I was sitting in a moderately crowded church and realized I could not easily open my eyes. I was finally able to slightly open one eye and looked around at the rest of the attendees. Everyone appeared to be sleeping, some with their heads rolled to the side or resting on the back of the pew. Suddenly everyone opened their eyes and sat up straight as the pastor walked up the aisle to the pulpit.
During the service I deduced what happened. Each Sunday the pastor wanted quiet in the church before ascending the pulpit. The only way he could accomplish that was to drug the congregation with a quick-acting quick-recovery sleep-inducing vapor. What the vapor was, how it was introduced to the congregation and if it were dangerous were the questions still on my mind when I confronted the pastor after the service.
“I refused to be drugged in a church,” I announced to the pastor.
“You are welcome to not be drugged in a church,” replied the pastor, “but not in my church.”
I knew I needed to let others know about this, but I didn’t know how do do so without causing a riot. The first thing I needed to find out was what the drug was and how it was introduced into the air. I also knew I needed an ally.
I assumed that since the pastor was a good man, he would not want to harm anyone, but perhaps he’d not thought about unborn children and the effects of the drug on them. I approached a woman I knew was pregnant and whispered to her what I knew. She became outraged and said she’d meet me in the fellowship hall after talking to the pastor.
I then noticed my son, who was responsible for ringing the tower bell before the service, and asked him what he knew about the vapor. He admitted that he was instructed to push a button just before the bell began to toll. He also told me the name of the drug that was released into the sanctuary when the button was pushed. I wrote it down, planning on Googling it later.
I then began talking to other people in the fellowship hall — many of whom were not in the sanctuary. It seemed many people knew about the drugging and opted, since the pastor was otherwise a good man, just to stay out of the sanctuary on Sunday mornings.
I still needed to know where the vapor entered the sanctuary, so went back into the sanctuary just before a second service was about to begin. That is when I noticed the brass decorations on either end of the pews — what I’d always thought to be speakers. I got close to one and heard a hissing sound. Holding my breath I ran up the aisle to escape being drugged for a second time that morning, of course I couldn’t run very fast and my lungs were bursting. I escaped just in time.
I never saw the pregnant woman again, but talked more to some of the women in the fellowship hall.
Then I woke up.
6 thoughts on “When I opened my eyes I couldn’t believe what I saw!”
This sounds a little like an episode of Sherlock I just watched!
I’ll have to watch that Sherlock episode!
I love those wise churchgoers who, knowing the pastor’s habits, simply opt to stay out of the sanctuary on Sundays.
Your dreams are way more entertaining than mine.
So, Dona, I’m really wondering if this is my church you’re talking about! Well, yes and no. The sermons can be pretty boring, and generally I don’t listen much anymore, but I appreciate the fellowship and the community. In dream-terms, though, I am wondering if the dream implies some fear of being ‘drugged’ by the experience, as in being made into someone unreasonable and unlike yourself, against your will. There may also be a bit of paranoia in there. That said, I hardly blame you! As you know, I was once a devout ‘believer’, and I often look back on that time and wonder what was going on in my head. And sometimes I worry that if some of my fellow congregants really knew what I think about all of this, they would be quite shocked and probably very offended, and not understand at all. But I suspect that a significant number would admit to feeling (and believing) as I do. Just a work in progress am I.
No, Catherine, it was not necessarily your church (it was a church I’d never been in). In fact the pastor was my favorite pastor in the entire world (my mom’s Pastor Keith). But since Dean’s church/your church is the church I am forced to attend for religious holidays when we are in town, it very well could be. Actually, I think it might have been based on some headline I read on someone’s Facebook status a while back about how different pastors deal with noisy children during services and remembered back to when we attended Dean’s church in Illinois with our kids and felt that the pastor was agitated by the noise of the (our?) kids during Christmas Eve service and even said that Jesus was a good baby or something that I took as my kids were not good. It also possibly had something to do with my belief that some people leave their brains at the door when they enter a church.