Jacob’s Dream, 4c

 Jacob, at the front of the store, experienced the world in reality, the supernatural breaking into material world time and space. Such is the nature of reality, though, many times, we fail to see it. I would say that Jacob did not completely understand the supernatural aspect of his life in many profoundly functional ways, at least not in the fullness of such reality being realized in his consciousness. Though, he suspected, the dream had such a function, or indicated such things, and he believed, firmly, in the supernatural nature of material living. However, life often seemed to him (as to us) to be comprised of a single, discernible layer – stuff and things, tangible and visible. Yet this one day, in Jacob’s world, pointed in a single direction, to a profound intertwining of material and spiritual. Yes, such always existed, but Jacob felt it, unchangeably, after this day. It was a small thing, relatively, but it had a heaven-opening type of effect and Jacob felt like the entire veneer of materialistic reality had been laid bare and shown to be what it actually was.

            Of course, I haven’t yet told you what this thing was, and I have (not) done so purposefully. Because you might not see the import of it. You might think, after I describe the scene, that I have exaggerated my case, and that the entirety of such reality exists within the closed system of atoms bouncing erratically. I am trying, however, unashamedly, to convince you of another world. I want you to see that Jacob’s world, which is a portrait of our own, is a realm where atoms do bounce and wind blows, but none without a divine directive.

            So, I hesitate to tell the scene.

            But here it goes.

            After Scott had asked him semi-frantically to come out, Jacob walked out from the stock room, seeing a crowd gathered in a forming circle, outside of the plate glass window at the store’s front. The store’s door was being held open by some the employees, Scott included, who had moved through it toward the scene outside. Jacob pushed through the crowd and saw the scene:

            A worn-in Japanese import sedan rolled up over the curb at an awkward angle, scattered junk everywhere, a grocery cart, and—yes—Jimmy, knocked over unconscious (or maybe dead) on the sidewalk.

            A youngish, nerdy looking guy with glasses and a very pathetic beard, was standing over Jimmy’s body, along with the growing crowd. “I don’t know what happened,” he kept saying.

            The scene apparently had paralyzed everyone in the crowd, because all simply were standing over Jimmy’s body, none with any perceptible movement of helping him.

Jacob moved quickly toward Jimmy, kneeling down over him, trying to ascertain any signs of life or movement. He pushed his index and middle fingers into Jimmy’s neck, feeling nothing in any way of a pulse.

            “Has anyone called 911?” he called out, looking up from Jimmy and around at the gawkers. A few affirmative responses came from the mass.

            “Jimmy!” Jacob said, loudly into the immobile man’s life-drained face. “Jimmy!”

            Jacob swore, under his breath, feeling a deep loss there, knelt over the body of a man who had probably died after threatening Jacob only minutes before. He knew he probably should not move the body, or anything, for fear of further injury (if Jimmy was, in fact, alive), assuming, also, that none of the onlookers were trained in any sort of medical response.

            In the haze of the moments, the paramedics and policemen arrived, attending to Jimmy. Policemen questioned the witnesses and the driver, who (obviously) had lost control of his car and careened onto the sidewalk, hitting Jimmy and his cart.

            “Did anyone see the victim before the incident – what he was doing, where he was?” one of the two officers asked into the crowd.

            One teenage girl, shaking and crying, said she had been a little way behind Jimmy, and saw the entire event.

            “He seemed really mad about something,” she said, having somewhat composed herself. “He was cussing and kept saying something about someone getting his or something. I was kind of creeped out, and then the car was…and—” the girl broke down crying again.

            Of course, Jacob knew why Jimmy had seemed mad, and it charged into his nerves with chilling certainty.

            “Officer,” one of the paramedics subtly called out to the other policeman, “Could you please come over here.”

            The urgency in his voice caught Jacob’s ear, though most everyone else seemed to miss it, being more caught up in the rest of the scene. He watched, the officer walking over and the paramedic pointing toward Jimmy’s beltline, under his oversized and grungy shirt.

            Jimmy, now, could clearly see the object of the paramedic’s alarm: because protruding from the waistline of Jimmy’s pants was, clearly and obviously, the handle of a gun. 

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About Danny Slavich

I am a Christian husband, father, pastor, and poet. I lead Pembroke Road Baptist Church a multi-cultural, multi-generational church in urban South Florida.
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