The Dream of the Dismantled Desk
I dreamed last night about working the early shift, a dismantled front desk and someone asking me about my childhood minister's legacy in town. Here's how AI helped bring my dream to life in two Maple Lane moments—first through Clara’s mysterious midnight vision, and second through Tori Rae’s gentle reflection in her journal.
🌙 Maple Lane Scene 1: Clara’s Dream of the Vanishing Desk
It was barely past 3 a.m. when Clara Wren sat up in bed, sweat cooling on her neck like dew on autumn grass. She reached instinctively for her journal and flashlight from the nightstand. The dream had been too vivid, too odd, to ignore.
In it, she had been standing in her police uniform—though oddly, she felt younger somehow, more like her cadet self—waiting for the morning shift to begin. She was at the precinct’s front desk, but something was… off.
The lobby was hazy, like morning fog rolling through the valley. Citizens gathered outside the frosted glass doors. Clara moved to open them when someone unfamiliar—dressed in a crisp suit—walked right in and began dismantling the main counter.
Piece by piece.
She watched in stunned silence as the front desk—the very symbol of her post, her authority, her place—was removed. The two side stations remained, but the central desk, her desk, vanished.
Then someone appeared from the shadows. A former colleague, fired months ago for cutting corners, sashayed in wearing a red blazer far too bold for a morning shift. She cozied up to a city official like it was a cocktail party, not a precinct.
Clara tried to speak up. But her voice came out like paper rustling in wind.
Then, just as quickly, the scene shifted. She was in the back room, and someone—maybe a reporter or councilman—asked, “Who was Rovenstein?”
The name chilled her. Rovenstein. That was her childhood pastor’s name.
Clara blinked. “Why do you want to know?”
But before he could answer, the dream faded.
Now, in the stillness of her bedroom, Clara wrote two words in her journal:
“Still standing.”
Even without the desk. Even with shifting faces and fading memories, she still stood.
She reached for her tea mug and whispered, “God, am I being replaced or repurposed?”
The moonlight didn’t answer. But her heartbeat did.
Steady. Strong. Still hers.
📖 Maple Lane Moment 2: Tori Rae’s Journal – “When the Desk Disappears”
Journal Entry – Thursday, 7:07 a.m.
Sticky notes: Rec desk shift, muffled dreams, and that lingering Desperate lyric still playing in my head… "Desperate. Desperate. Lord I need heaven, I need heaven tonight." Plus a lyric about counting my blessings, all that I've done in my life. And as I look at the details. All of the goodness I find.
You ever feel like you got hired for one role but handed another?
Or worse—your desk vanishes, and no one even thinks to tell you?
This morning I thought about Clara—she’s always been this grounded, capable, badge-on-the-heart kind of woman. But even she told me she dreamed her desk disappeared. I think we both know what that means.
It's not about furniture. It's about foundation.
Sometimes the job shifts.
The rules rewrite themselves.
The people change.
And what once felt like a calling feels more like a pit stop on a winding road you didn’t map.
But here's what I’m learning, deep in my marrow:
Just because the desk moves...
doesn’t mean you do.
Your worth isn’t built into a desk, or a uniform, or even the praises of those who think they know best.
Your place with God—your seat at His table—never gets remodeled.
And that dream, that drive, that gentle nudge that wakes you up at 3:33? That’s not coincidence. That’s a calling, reminding you that even in chaos, you still carry light.
So today, I’ll show up—late shift or no.
I’ll write one more line.
Sing one more lyric.
Smile even if it feels brittle.
Because I still matter.
Even if the desk is gone.
Love,
T.R.D.
Here's a powerful thought: “Maybe the dismantled desk is a blessing in disguise. A newfound sense of freedom from limitation.”
✨ The Message:
Sometimes, when the "desk" disappears—physically or symbolically—it isn't loss.
It’s release.
From systems that no longer serve.
From routines that shrink your joy.
From holding the weight of everyone else's expectations.
It’s God saying:
"I never put you in a box.
So why are you still sitting behind one?"
🪑 Maple Lane Devotional Reflection: When the Desk Disappears
Clara stood in the now oddly open space of her precinct lobby, staring at the bare spot where the front counter used to be. A newer officer joked that maybe they'd forgotten to pay the carpenter. She didn’t laugh.
Instead, she placed her coffee mug on the one remaining side desk, then took a breath.
“Was I hiding behind the desk all this time?”
The question settled into her chest like a pebble in still water.
Later that day, she’d find herself seated on the bench outside the Rec Center—Tori Rae beside her, muffin in hand.
“Maybe the desk was never meant to stay,” Clara mused aloud.
Tori looked up. “That sounds like something you'd write in your journal after a strange dream.”
“I did,” Clara admitted. “But it didn’t feel strange. It felt like… freedom.”
Tori smiled. “Maybe God’s not trying to demote you. Maybe He’s trying to move you. From the desk to the field. From guarding to growing.”
They sat in silence for a moment, letting the wind answer. And though there was no booming revelation or angelic voice from the sky, Clara felt it.
A clearing.
A shifting.
Not an ending.
But an opening.
Journal prompt to consider:
"Where in my life might God be removing the desk so I can walk in more freedom?"
Comments
Post a Comment