
Last night I had a dream that felt so vivid, it’s still lingering this morning. In the dream, I starting out at a gas station. It was a normal day, putting gas in my car during the day and it felt completely normal. I had a clear plan for how to get home. I wasn’t worried about getting lost, getting hurt, or losing my way. Everything felt organized and secure.
But suddenly, I “woke up” — not in my bed, but in the middle of a strange town I’d never seen before. Somehow, I had ended up at a remote state park in the pitch dark, miles from anything familiar, and I had no idea how I got there. I woke up in my car, but found myself riding a bike to get to the nearest gas station. When I asked the attendant where I was, they gave me the name of the town — a name that seemed almost impossible to pronounce or remember. The directions were confusing. Trying to tell my family where and how to get to me felt impossible.
From there, I had to wait at a little house with a random but kind husband and wife until my family could come and get me. This podunk town in the middle of nowhere felt both surreal and unsettling.
As I woke up, the symbolism hit me like a wave:
This dream is what living with a concussion feels like.
You begin with things you know for certain — your routines, your independence, your plans — but suddenly nothing makes sense. Your brain is foggy. Your world feels dizzy and disorienting. The simplest tasks take extra energy and time. Everything seems unfamiliar, even when you’ve done it a hundred times before. And you’re forced to lean on others more than you’d like, waiting and relying on them to help you navigate what used to feel simple.
It’s frustrating. It’s humbling. It’s exhausting.
But even in that strange, hard place — like the couple’s house in my dream — or the dark state park in the middle of nowhere—there can also be moments of kindness and care. People who meet you where you are, help you find your bearings, and wait with you until you’re safe again.
For anyone else who’s navigating an “unknown experience or trial” or illness, injury, or disorientation: you’re not alone. The journey might be foggy now, but clarity will come. This is what I tell myself, when it feels overwhelming and frustrating.
- When life feels unfamiliar and confusing.
“For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.”
— 1 Corinthians 14:33
Even when our minds feel foggy and unclear, we can trust that God Himself is steady and constant.
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- When you feel weak and dependent on others.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9
In the dream about waiting and relying on others reflects the truth that in our weakness, God’s strength shines through.
- When the path feels lost or unfamiliar.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6
Even in the “Podunk towns” of life where nothing feels familiar, He promises direction.
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- When everything requires more energy, patience, aand endurance.
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
— Isaiah 40:31
This verse speaks directly to the exhaustion and slow pace of healing — reminding us that renewal is coming.
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- When you feel disoriented but want to hold on to hope.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”
— Psalm 23:1–3
Even when nothing makes sense, God’s guidance and restoration are steady and certain.
Blessings, Crystal
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