By Alyssa Bormes

Pink Beach by Amanda Downing via Flikr. CC BY-SA 2.0


You know that funny spot between sleeping and not sleeping—especially that spot in the morning before you wake up that feels like you are awake but you are not? Okay—now think of that dream/awake spot right there—the spot where it feels like a dream might be really happening—that’s the spot I was in.

To set the stage, my house has been in a constant state of flux for the 14 months I’ve lived here. Currently in my bedroom, there are the vanity that will go into the bathroom, a cupboard that will go to my sister’s garage (because I measured wrong, and a new one is coming), an assortment of boxes, and the arrival of two pinkish chairs from my mother’s estate. The chairs will eventually take the place of the vanity and cupboard, but for now, they remain right at the foot of my bed.

So in that lovely dream spot mentioned earlier, I had a nightmare. Sitting in one of the chairs was a man who was berating me. I knew him immediately, by sight and by the broken record of insults. In the haze of the dream, I closed my eyes but could still hear him. I looked at him again, and thought, “I refuse to believe you this time.”

In what seemed like a tremendous act of the will, I forced myself from the sleep-induced hallucination and awoke. The chair was now empty. What came next was a mix of a rebuke and a morning offering. I looked at where he sat, and stated, “Don’t come back to this house. Your scorn has nothing to do with me, and you may never again sit in my pink chairs.” And in the next breath, “Jesus, I will serve; what will you have me do for the day?”

About five minutes later, when water was running over me in the shower, I was amazed—not only that it had happened, but also that it was handled! What a cool victory!

In the past, visitors to the dream moment, or to real life, who berated me, were always given credence. My day, or week, or month was finished. I sank, and I wouldn’t reach for Christ. But now I have a trick—I reach for Jesus everyday. When someone tries interrupting my life, they have to deal with a habit. And—the habit is that I offer my day to Jesus, not to the destruction of my own soul, and not to listening to lies.

Jesus, I dig you! Thank you for allowing me to pray to you everyday!

And what I’m going to try to do is reserve that funny dreamy spot for the angels—or if You and Mary want to swing by, take a seat in the pink chairs, I’d love to have You visit!

About the Author:

Alyssa Bormes is an educator, author, speaker, and retreat leader. She currently teaches at the Chesterton Academy in Edina, Minnesota, writes for the Catholic Spirit, and the W.I.N.E blog, is the host of a weekly show “Christian Witnesses in the Church,” on Radio Maria US, and is the author of The Catechism of Hockey. You can find her at