Contemplations and Theology

Dreams and Visions

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is a saying that in these times your young men will have dreams and your old men will have visions. What are these things really? Why do I remember some dreams vividly and others barely at all, or even if a dream came to mind upon yawning awakening? Some dreams we have never forgotten as well as some ‘visions’. First things. Looking up the definition between the two reveals this: Dreams actually occur 3 to 6 times a night and last from 5 to 20 minutes. Visions usually are contained within a dream and can be somewhat translated by ‘The Word’ Scripture, the Bible.

After all, there is a great mystery about these things and many highly educated people have completely declared great and lofty dissertations upon these things. Rem sleep (rapid eye movement) Psychological triggers for actions or action to be taken stuff. The experts will fill us in on something they have dabbled in and graphed oscilloscope tracks, written long and indecipherable dissertations read by other long winded professors that pontificate lengthily on their dreams and their contents. Education is often a great thing, no question there. Often the high brow attitude can be a trap for us when we are ‘rightly lauded’ for some theory that sounds good.

I have had visions and dreams as most of us have. I remember some of them still after decades of ruminating on his strange and yet, rewarding life. Thankfully, my dreams are made clearer when I write them down. Writing is a version of the two-edged sword. It gives others a story that they have not heard before and it gives the writer an outlet and sounding board for that writing. I welcome critique or praise of my writing. It means someone actually read what I wrote besides the editor and proof reader! It’s quite easily done, at the bottom of every column there is a choice to ‘like’ or comment. I assure you, every of these options, I see and reply to.

What makes a reader of books do so with alacrity? Re-reading old favorites is an indicator of a reader, even beloved children’s tales of Mr Toad and Badger. One of my dreams is my favorite: I was running towards a tall man with one eye. I had a stone in my hand and I was going to stone the man as he was ‘unclean’ Obviously a dream set a some time ago when that was popular behavior. (people still stone, but with letters to the editor and on Facebook with words.) Sticks and stones rhyme has a somewhat unpleasant origin per-Se.

So, I ran to the one eyed man that kept smiling at me and there was no fear on the man’s face. As I drew near the man said; “Look behind you” There were scores of men, running down a hill coming near, also with stones in their hands. When they were on the other side of a fence quite near, the one eyed man declared: “In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is King.” Astonished and deeply convicted, they, along with me, dropped our stones. End of dream. You can sort that one out, I have an interpretation. Dreams are more direct and can be within a dream or heard or seen while awake. I have had several of those kind as well. They have saved my life. They have led me to impossible, simple tasks that have affected strangers. One was punctual and healed a hip problem while I was sitting in a large room delightfully listening to a team of musicians and singers praying to the Risen Lord.

Jesus appeared as we were swimming (one of my favorite physical things of course) The Lord and I were both doing the side stroke facing each other and Jesus said “Do you want to go down? You can breathe down there!” I asked him, “how deep is it?” Jesus answered, ”How deep do you want to go?” The vision abruptly ended and I was healed. How deep do you want to go? I got out of my chair in that room and began to dance around. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe

I don’t have time for You

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It occurred to Norm one afternoon while he was cruising about in the family sedan. It’s the V6 model and when pressed, shifts down a few gears and moves along. Sometimes it is useful to accelerate strongly. Usually the time comes when a merge occurs, often during ‘stop and go hour’ on the freeway. Suddenly, a tractor trailer is coming down the ramp and there is no room for it in the slow lane (slow meaning under 75) and down it comes towards you and your road companions. Norm used to drive a Yellow cab and he knows what to do. Flash brakes and make a hole for the big rig. It makes it and often gives a little blink of the tail-lights to give a luminous thanks. Courtesy that costs nothing and is a flash of civilization that even surprises him. “Why would I do that?” It was inconvenient for me and it added at least a minute or more onto my ETA at the chiropractor!

Back to the Yellow cab: There seemed to be two types of people that Norm ferried about. People that cared about him and people that didn’t. Why would someone be interested in a 20 something cab driver? Why would the driver be interested in his fare? Maybe to generate camaraderie and get good scale? (cab lingo for tips). Perhaps a desire to get a new insight into life? Perhaps because Norm was sort of a ‘good person’ that liked to put people at ease? Who can tell, It’s known that it’s a bad thing to judge people and there are some we can tell that do that! (Putting aside that joke) there is awareness.

It is pretty easy for us to discern if someone, perhaps a very new someone is on board with us and they are easy to be with because they ask you questions and then listen to your answers. (Usually I can’t wait to talk about my favorite subject, me.) Sometimes though, there is a patience in another that is refreshing and calming to our jangled nerve endings. Too often our lives are filled with sparks of disconnect, as though we are on the subway platform seeing the power from the third rail come and go.

The endless chatter from the crowd, the drone of “how are you?’ “I’m good” It leaves Norm again famished for reality. How pleasant it is to even have someone say anything that shows the Light, a time of real interest. As though you both were sitting on Mars hill in Athens centuries ago, hungry for new ideas and connection with another persons life. The hunger for connections with another.

Calming our own chatter and constant glances in any mirror to see if our face showed the isolation and fear within. It takes a new heart, a resurrection of our internal gyroscope to stand steady and willing to look, see and listen to that fast moving thought train. People are crossing our path for a reason, always the unknown reason to be there and we can wait for it to go by or really look and listen. When we can see and be seen, that’s when things happen. The world stands still and two lives are then never the same. We can actually remember a name and a story. Brief and timeless as it was always meant to be. Always if we desire it.

Walking in the garden, taking in the beauty of the flowers nearby and hearing another book unfolding as the petals do in the dawn. Maybe even a field of sunflowers all facing you and drinking in what we all need. Light and warmth from outside of ourselves. The giver and the listener, dancing together with the incredible and irresistible but gentle power of the Son. A Monarch flits by and lands nearby,fluttering and flapping and dancing aboutl. Beauty given and when asked about it, He usually says: “I thought you would like it” It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

The Mask of Amontillado

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Before his time, Poe wrote a terrifying short story about a man (Fortune} who is doomed because he is forced to wear a mask for the rest of his miserable short life. Fortune is also forced into social distancing by the narrator of this story, Monty. Of course, Fortune has no idea what is to happen to him until he is forced to wear a fine mask that is supposed to protect him from disease. Keeping away from other people is the other technique that doubles down on the mask. Monty made the masks and forced most of the people around him to wear them. The social distancing enforced upon Fortune was the only way to get him to be ‘safe’

Monty had thought this out way ahead of time and really was anxious to get on with it. You know how it is with a really neat plan you have for a friend or spouse! It’s hard to wait. Gator gets it too. He has a hard time with traffic lights.

Monty was a clever old toad and he really wanted Fortune to feel the isolation and social distance that was deserved in Monty’s mind. Following the national trend in some of the states, it seemed the thing that was necessary to keep Fortune safe, only for Monty and his enjoyment of companionship of sorts.

Monty gave Fortune a mask, a fine mask made of the finest linen. Once again to ostensibly save Fortune from the black death killing a great number of people. As Monty helped Fortune put on the mask, he dribbled some ether upon it and Fortune was soon unconscious and easily moved to a socially distant safe room. There was no one around and Monty began to make the safe room absolutely safe and socially distant from everyone. He left some fine wine in a cask for Fortune to enjoy while he was in a sequestered situation.

Monty went a little over the top in securing Fortune’s safety in sequestered entirety. He bricked up the room, floor to ceiling. Nothing could get in and threaten Fortune and there was a social distance that fulfilled the Governor’s edict to the letter. Shouting through the wall, Monty told Fortune he could take off his fine mask.

All Fortune could say as his situation began to dawn upon him was: “For the love of God Monty!” Dizzy with the Covid19 fear, Monty could only think of himself and how safe he and Fortune were at last. A fine mask indeed. The Amontillado was very nice as comforter. ‘It’s pretty good’ he said.

Jack Gator

Featured

Falling in Love

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

This column appeared in the Paper around March of 2020. I snipped out the column and did not snip out the date. Often, I will look at a column with a fresh revelation about it’s subject and do a little bit of rewriting. Just a little. This one reflects a thought I had on December 7th as I was playing my viola with my family worship team in a city named after an Indian Chief, an hour south of the our ranch. Osceola. It seemed appropriate to share, after all the first motorcycle I owned was an Indian Chief. It’s pretty good.

FALLING IN LOVE Rewritten on December 8th, 2020, Edited on October 14th 2025

There is an emptiness in everyone that longs to be filled. That longing is in all of us, all. You can choose to ignore it at a fairly young age or put it aside for a season of decades. But, it’s still there and must be satisfied. It isn’t wishful thinking or a romance of sorts. It’s closest description is holding your breath for as long as you live. That emptiness is just as painful and destructive as not breathing. It’s akin to a hole inside of you that never is filled by you.

When in the womb, we have the answer for that longing. The connection with that emptiness is fulfilled by the presence of the lover surrounding you. That is, until you leave that warm swimming pool inside. An immediate cry comes forth. You cried, we all do as soon as we take that first breath. Disconnect, absence of the surrounding oneness, the lover of your soul and the supplier of all you need. Food, air and communication. It was offered with tenderness and awe of your life.

That longing now again needs to be filled. The food and comfort are given now in our vulnerable existence and that works. It’s not as intimate as it was, but now we can cry out if we are lonely or hungry or hurt. The child knows much more than we realize and there is one time in history that two unborn children knew they were near one another and moved as best they could in the womb towards each other. I’ll tell you in a bit if you don’t know who they were.

So a child grows into adulthood, and finds the world their mollusk that is never quite good enough to fill that eternal longing for that security and romance. The one we all long for. There is only one thing that can satisfy. Not money or power. Not sex or children. None of those things can. There is love from people or pets that seems to satisfy but they have an unpleasant habit at times of dying or betraying us. Realizing that the emptiness wasn’t really filled after all, the search begins anew. Spoiler alert: There is one thing that fills without a doubt and it lasts forever. It is the Lord Himself! Yes, I know. Another preacher. But this preacher knows the truth from experience.

We were created for this romance from the beginning of time. “In the beginning..” That’s when time started and throughout mankind’s existence the longing for the Lord has never ceased. When Mary and Elizabeth (her cousin) met in their pregnancy, Jesus in Mary and John in Elizabeth leaped for joy within the womb. John knew it was his Lord and Jesus knew it was His beloved.

As is our basic training for eternity here, we sort of know what love is and you don’t read a book about your future spouse to know them. You talk to them, look upon them and know them throughout the hunger for that longing. It’s almost enough but the real romance requires reading the love letters and talking a lot with the lover of your innermost being. We were created in His image. What does that mean? Making a decision to love someone is the image. We must choose to love anyone, and He chose to love us. We are identical in that way. We must choose. No one, not even God can make us love. He will not cross the threshold of our heart unless we ask Him. Ask Him about everything. He will fill that longing and love you as you decide to love Him. He always loves us, we must choose to love him. Let the romance begin. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson /aka Jack Gator

Leftovers From the Last Parliment of Power

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

An appropriate time of the month for leftovers from the Thanksgiving feast. Solidifying green bean casseroles, dry stuffing and aging pumpkin pies. The mashed potatoes are also dry and in desperate need of hydration. The mince pie ages on the counter quite well and is attended to by Gator in most gracious manner. It’s gone. The turkey was perfectly roasted, due to lasting oddness from the latest plague, is dry and tasteless. No sense of taste unless spicy, sugary or well salted. Very good for a dish that is sweet with hot peppers and inordinate amounts of salt. With powerful dill pickles and green olives. The pertinacious experts of these things say that the sense of smell and taste will reappear in a few weeks to never. Sort of like the weather on TV.

So, with the election of high offices, there are a few leftovers as well. New and in the usual fashion, clusters of officials that may wind up tasteless and unpleasant soon afterwards. Also useless and in plain site, left on the shelf or counter of the power of the new regime. Leftovers that were somewhat tasty at the outset. Fresh out of the oven of ascendancy, too soon reheated and unsatisfactory to the countries fickle pallets. It has always been so. To quote the biography of Queen Victoria’s court, The nasty old men, debauched and selfish, pigheaded and ridiculous, with their perpetual burden of debts, confusions and disreputable behaviors. ”1

There are, of course many of these ‘leftovers’ that are quite nice and have survived the transfer of powers and influence. Courtiers and advisors too of the utmost reliability and honesty. Appointed for that very reason. Governors that actually consider the people they are responsible to from the highest court to the very local satraps and heads of small townships. Effective or out of expiration dates in many instances. More leftovers to be closely examined and even tasted to ensure their continued good functionality. Some forgotten on shelves of uselessness until the decay and mold gives them away. Into the big trucks with flashing lights and interesting hydraulic gathering devices.

The curious thing about leftovers is the preservation and care given to them. The really good ones such as pecan pies and managers of sound fair behavior, are still good and usable. It matters not at all whether they have ‘connections’ such as lineage or the reputation of their kinfolk. Decay is usually easy to discern (except, of course by the bad deviled eggs all together) Throw them all out, the others will soon go bad as that is their obvious nature.

So the leftovers can be suitable for a long time, some even put back for continued use. (cranberry sauce and beneficent landlords) The true nature of them and the care and skill of the cook can ensure no waste and the satisfaction of a job well done. Both advisors and their companions.

Saltykoff’s story of the two generals illustrates things with great clarity: “The generals served all their lives in some registry office or other; they had been born there, reared there, had grown old there, and consquently they understoood nothing whatever” 2.

Our choice. Back in the larder for usefulness or out to the big green, plastic container of wheels for quick transport to the compost pile of decay out of sight and memory. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

1, Lytton Strachey 1880-1932 Queen Victoria’s Accession 2. Micháil Evgráfovitch Saltykóff (1826-1889)

Thanksgiving

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

A gift given to us, a surprise gift, is usually a surprise that awakens a feeling of thankfulness. We don’t call the store where it was bought to thank them for the gift, we thank the giver who thought enough of us to give.

A quote from a very well known evangelist is apropos as this time in this brief column. It is a quote from a well known evangelist from the 19th century. Her name was Hannah Smith.

Hannah Smith was known as the “angel of the churches” both for her eloquence and for her appearance in her evangelistic addresses to huge gatherings throughout Britain. In 1875 she published The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, a guide to sanctification and total surrender to divine will that was translated into several languages and sold some two million copies around the world.      

A quote from Hannah’s book:

“Thanksgiving or complaining – these words express two contrasting attitudes of the souls of God’s children about His dealings with them; and they are more powerful than we are inclined to believe in furthering or frustrating His purposes of comfort and peace toward us. The soul that gives thanks can find comfort in everything; the soul that complains can find comfort in nothing.”                 

  Gator certainly has been a whiner and complainer for a great amount of his life. His excuses were many, most of them based on his choices that he thought were someone else’s to blame. Then Gator wondered why he had so few friends and felt ‘off ‘ most of the time. The good things were just referred to as ‘good luck’. The coal in his stocking was someone’s mistake or merely ‘bad luck’ Gator was/is pretty dense and finally the repeated rescue of his life by the ‘good luck’ became clear there was someone looking out for him that was mysterious and unexplained. It took years for Gator to discover who that was. It was akin to finding he had suddenly died and the doctor that saved his life was standing at his bedside. Smiling and pleased the foolish Gator finally had opened up and realized what was reality.

Car accidents, angry people with guns and missiles, heroin addiction and many others. These are the ones Gator knows about. Thankfulness was bubbling up from a long forgotten and ignored artesian well within. The creator of everything that is and was and will be was that smiling doctor. The healer of Gator’s stone cold heart (which still continues as there is a vein of very hard rock deep down) The doctor, the first and last, Wellspring of our souls, Beautiful one. Many names is He known by and the names continue to be put forth in Gator’s speech and song. You know who it is.

There has never been a man more alive than Jesus and He deserves thanksgiving from us. It’s pretty good.

Jack Gator