The Night The House Shook: And How it Affects My Writing
Dreams, deadlines, and shifting foundations.
Have you ever had a dream that keeps you thinking long after you wake up?
I had one the other night. It left me pondering for days.
In the dream, I had just gotten “home”1 and saw that the foundation perimeter in the garage had shifted to one side by over a foot. Rebar jutted up from the floor, crumbled concrete still clinging to it. Dust and debris littered the ground.
I ran inside to warn anyone still there that the house was unstable. I found my father, and being an engineer, he immediately saw the problem when the walls began leaning several degrees off plumb. Soon things were tilting like a funhouse. Fortunately, nobody else was inside.
But in my dream mind, I thought, “We’re going to be in put out for a long time. I should grab a few of the important things, since I’m already here.” What were these important things? I’m not certain. They ranked high enough that I kept searching for them as the house began swaying back and forth with my movement like some decayed balancing trap from National Treasure.
When the creaking and cracking of the wobbly walls reached a peak, I decided I was out of time. I escaped through a second-floor window and dropped from the roof.
Friends and neighbors gathered on the street, watching the house in its death dance. Apparently, many of them were arriving for one of our common get-togethers. So now, in dream-brain, I had invited a bunch of people to watch my house fall.
How’s all that for clear subconscious symbolism?
It’s obvious that life has been a little more chaotic and stressful of late and it’s seeping into my dreams. I already had two major work projects with looming deadlines: delivering my first children’s book after a Kickstarter, and a big restructuring in my day job. A third giant entered the arena with my role as a part-time youth minister: leading a summer mission trip. From that variety, I hope it’s easy to imagine why the house was swaying in my dream. My days are often spent moving back and forth between projects. And there’s never enough time to get done what I think needs doing.
Hanging over all this has been a high level of job uncertainty. Depending on how things shook out, we’ve had to talk about whether our family might need to move, and whether I might be looking for completely different work soon to make ends meet.
Consequences? That might mean having to leave my ministry position, making the kid’s book harder to finish, leaving my current boss with an unfinished project, and removing the flexibility I’ve enjoyed that lets me write fiction and articles here on Substack.
Realistically I know it’s unlikely that all those things would happen. But any of those changes is still an upending and a personal loss.
We’ve prayed frequently about the situation, but obviously, my subconscious is still wrestling with it.
At the same time, our personal situation mirrors a broader uncertainty that many people feel. I have friends throughout the political spectrum, and their reactions to the shifts we’re living through range from fear or anger to relief and anticipation. What nobody seems to have is certainty.
Throw the wild market swings in there, too. My business work deals in that world, so I hear the concerns especially loud in the economic sphere.
Uncertainty is everywhere, and to many folks the foundations look broken. Where do we find hope in these times? How do we ride out the wobbles? Or should we look to escape out the window?
I’m reminded of a certain teacher’s story about a house built on sand.
My dream didn’t end with all my friends on the street watching the coming collapse. It didn’t end with crashing timber and shattering glass. Something completely unexpected happened next.
As we watched, certain the house would tilt too far at any moment, the ground shook and a rumbling filled the air.
Normally an earthquake topples a weak building, but not this time. All at once, the house sank down like a fighter dropping his center of gravity for better balance. It thudded into the ground a couple feet. All the swaying and shaking stopped. The structure instantly went rigid again with that drop.
We ended up having our get-together inside after all. Everyone marveled a bit at how secure the house felt after what we’d seen. The dream ended there with a magical feeling, almost like those late-night celebrations you have around momentous events in your life: graduations, weddings, retirements.
There was a new foundation under the house, stronger than the concrete. It now rested on pure stone. And that left an air of hope and wonder as I woke.
I’m not the type who’s eager to chalk up a dream as a message from God. If it happens to be, I think I’d only recognize it in hindsight. But this dream felt significant, even if only tapping into my own deep thoughts and feelings about the state of the world and my family situation.
Things feel shaky, at home, nationally, and abroad. And I could share my thoughts on the broader state of things. But I’m going to share what it means for me and let that suffice. It won’t be hard to draw conclusions about my opinion on the broader issues.
In my family’s personal uncertainty, we’re rooting deeper into the community and location where we believe God has us. Moving is off the table. We trust Him for whatever that means on the work front. That confidence and trust are likely what’s represented at the end of my dream. We’re planted and resting on that solid rock.
Christ has brought us through uncertain times before, so perhaps the whole dream is a way of reminding myself that the rattling is temporary. There’s hope for what’s next.
Short-term, though, that means a season of shaking. Even if my work situation stays the same, those big projects have changed my days. More meetings, more phone calls, more deadlines, more days away from home.
Unfortunately, writing here on Substack is the thing that must yield. And I think you might be the crowd I invited just in time to watch my house fall—writing being the most public façade of my work efforts. My time and creative energies are focused on those big projects, at least through the summer. And, as you can probably guess, I still want to prioritize family time.
For me, writing is a bit like breathing through a straw. It’s constricted in both directions. I need time for input and thinking—inhaling—before I can slowly exhale onto the page. There’s already a backlog, but rushing won’t lead to more production; it’ll just turn my face red as I try to force air through that straw. That’s a way to make the façade crumble.
I’m not going completely dark. I have several articles in the early stages, and I’m still finishing the story of the time-traveling Ms. Germaine. It just won’t come as quickly.
Expect fewer articles from me as I finish these projects and find the new normal in all the shaking. Most likely, I will be posting about twice per month for now.
I’d appreciate prayer on any of what I’ve shared, but mostly for my team trip to help with the ongoing relief efforts after Hurricane Helene.
Thank you for reading this deep dive in my mind. I pray you are blessed with a solid foundation in this season.
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In addition to Imago Dad, Brandon Wilborn writes speculative fiction with spiritual themes. Find his previously released books at BrandonWilborn.com
Not my actual home, but you know how dreams work.
I’ll be praying for you. Lots of stuff going on but it sounds like a lot of meaningful things. God Speed, you got this.