Preaching dream

Maybe it's the pain meds, but my dreams the past two nights have been wild. The preaching one was fun, and included one of my faithful readers.

The setting is a blend of two churches which don't in any way look alike, and the preacher is to speak from the baptismal font-turned-lectern in the rear of the church.

As preacher, I stood at the font and began my sermon. When I paused for a breath, a founding member arose and, as she always did in real life, started talking excitedly about the early history of the parish, bumping me out of the "pulpit." I said, "You'll have to sit down. I'm preaching," but she told me, "I was in this church years ago and I know things no one else is here to recount." So she wouldn't sit.

Another woman came to speak up, with her own account of things historically true, and the two of them were giving off sparks of animosity towards one another for stealing the limelight. I stepped into the middle of them, and said, "Both of you -- that's it. I'm speaking." But they didn't care.

Then, wearing a fire rescue suit and hard hat, Laurel appeared with two long water hoses, and blasted both women with the hoses. They went away. But I don't remember if I ever finished my sermon. I think we all were quite wet.