The Theatre, The Purple Steps, and The Girl Who Was Lost
That alone reminds me that these dreams are not something I can simply schedule. They come when they come. They are not something I control.
And when they do come, they can be odd.
Vivid.
Sometimes confusing.
But I've learned not to dismiss them simply because they don't make sense to me immediately.
I would rather look at them symbolically and bring what I see before Yah, allowing Scripture to help me discern what may be being revealed.
This latest dream was definitely one of those dreams.
The Dream
I found myself inside a huge theatre.
It felt like I had come to watch a stage play, and there were lots of people everywhere.
I was there with what I understood in the dream to be my "family."
The strange thing was that I didn't actually know these people in real life.
Yet in the dream, they felt like family.
There was one particular family member—a woman who was beautiful.
This is where the dream became extremely awkward.
She was secretly touching my breast.
I remember an older family member, who felt like her mother, becoming aware of what she was doing. Instead of directing her anger toward the woman, however, she became upset with me.
I want to make something very clear:
I would never allow that to happen in real life.
This was something that happened within the dream, and I did not consent to it.
Then the dream shifted my attention.
At this point, my back was facing the stage.
And that's when I saw them, to my left.
The steepest purple steps I had ever seen, and I was at the bottom of them.
They were incredibly steep.
So steep that I was afraid to climb them.
I remember thinking:
"This cannot be the only way out."
I kept wondering where these stairs had even come from.
I had been sitting at the top looking at the stage, then my back being turned towards the stage because of what was happening to me by this family member then, somehow I found myself at the bottom of these stairs, apparently needing to climb them to leave.
I didn't see another way out.
So I made a decision.
If those stairs were the only way out, then I would have to climb them—even if I had to crawl.
I began climbing.
I remember looking back a few times and seeing just how steep they were.
The sight of them made me afraid.
So I quickly turned my head forward and continued climbing.
Step by step.
Eventually, I reached the top.
And then I looked to my right.
There was another way.
A way that would have been faster.
Less frightening.
Much easier.
And I remember realizing that the terrifying purple staircase wasn't the only way I could have gone.
I was confused.
Where had that other path been before?
And where was the "family" I had been with in the beginning?
They were nowhere to be found.
Then the scene changed.
I was outside.
I was walking with a young girl who looked lost and afraid.
I remember helping her cross the street with me.
She was crying.
I moved her hair away from her face so I could look at her.
Then I wiped her tears.
I remember the tenderness of that moment.
Then suddenly, a truck covered in lace pulled up beside us.
A woman was driving.
The truck was filled with women.
The woman driving looked at me—or perhaps she looked at both of us.
She didn't say anything.
And then I woke up.
Looking at the Dream Through a Spiritual Lens
When I woke up, there were several things that stayed with me.
The theatre.
The strange family.
The inappropriate touching and misplaced blame.
The purple staircase.
The realization that there had been another way.
The disappearance of the family.
The lost girl.
And finally, the woman driving the lace-covered truck filled with women.
I don't believe every detail of a dream should automatically be assigned a meaning.
But I also don't want to dismiss something simply because it is strange.
So I began asking the Most High:
What are You showing me?
And as I reflected, one thing became increasingly clear.
The dream seemed to move me from being surrounded by people to being alone on a difficult path, and then ultimately to helping someone else who was lost.
That progression stood out.
The Theatre
A theatre is a place where something is being presented.
There is a stage.
There is an audience.
People sit and watch something unfold.
But in my dream, my back was facing the stage.
I was physically in a place where something was happening, but I wasn't looking at it.
My attention was occupied by the people around me.
And these people felt like family, even though they were strangers to me in real life.
That made me think about familiarity.
Sometimes something can feel familiar without actually being known.
Sometimes people can feel like family without truly being assigned to walk with us.
And sometimes we can become so focused on what is happening around us that we aren't looking toward the direction we are supposed to be facing.
The dream didn't leave me there, though.
Something caused me to turn.
And when I turned, I saw the way out.
The Purple Steps
The staircase immediately caught my attention.
They were steep.
Extremely steep.
And they were purple.
I don't want to pretend that I know with absolute certainty why they were purple.
But purple is a color Scripture repeatedly associates with royalty, priesthood, and things connected with honor and significance.
That made me pause.
Because what appeared frightening to me was also marked by a color that can carry spiritual significance.
Perhaps the difficulty of the path does not automatically mean the path is wrong.
Sometimes something can look intimidating and still be part of a process the Most High is using to bring us somewhere.
But there was another part that stood out even more:
I didn't want to climb them.
I was afraid.
Yet I climbed anyway.
That reminded me of:
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."
— Proverbs 3:5–6
I didn't understand those stairs.
I questioned them.
I didn't think they could possibly be the only way.
But I kept moving.
Maybe faith isn't always feeling confident about the path.
Maybe sometimes faith is simply taking the next step when you don't understand where the path is leading.
I Thought It Was the Only Way
This may be one of the most important parts of the dream.
I thought the staircase was my only way out.
I was preparing myself to crawl up something that terrified me because I couldn't see another option.
But when I finally reached the top, I discovered another path.
And it was easier.
Faster.
Less frightening.
That realization stayed with me.
I thought I had no choice.
But I did.
I simply couldn't see the alternative from where I was standing.
That brought another Scripture to mind:
"For we walk by faith, not by sight."
— 2 Corinthians 5:7
How many times in life do we make decisions based on what we can currently see?
We see one door.
One option.
One path.
And because we cannot see anything else, we assume that must be the way.
But the Most High sees what I cannot see.
He sees the path beyond my current position.
He sees what is around the corner.
He sees the exit I haven't discovered yet.
That doesn't necessarily mean every difficult path is something I was never supposed to take.
I still made it to the top.
I still learned something through the climb.
But perhaps the dream is reminding me not to assume that difficulty automatically means necessity.
Where Did the Family Go?
This question bothered me.
Where were they?
The people who had been with me in the theatre were suddenly gone.
I had climbed those stairs alone.
And when I reached the other side, they weren't waiting for me.
That made me think about seasons.
Not everyone who begins a journey with us is necessarily meant to finish it with us.
Some people may belong to a particular chapter.
Some relationships may feel familiar.
Some connections may even feel like family.
But familiarity doesn't always equal assignment.
And sometimes the Most High allows us to move forward without the people we thought would be there.
That doesn't always mean they were evil.
It may simply mean they weren't meant to go where we were going.
The Girl Who Was Lost
Then something beautiful happened.
I was outside.
I was no longer trapped inside the theatre.
I was no longer standing at the bottom of the staircase.
I was walking.
And I encountered a girl who was lost and afraid.
But this time, I wasn't the one who was lost.
I was helping her.
I helped her cross the street.
I moved her hair away from her face.
I looked into her eyes.
I wiped her tears.
There was tenderness in the moment.
And that felt significant.
Because perhaps the journey wasn't only about getting me out.
Perhaps what the Most High brings us through can eventually position us to help someone else.
Scripture says:
"Blessed be Elohim, even the Father of our Master Yahusha the Messiah, the Father of mercies, and the Elohim of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble..."
— 2 Corinthians 1:3–4
I don't know who the girl represented.
Maybe she represents another person.
Maybe she represents a younger version of myself.
Maybe she represents someone I will encounter.
Or perhaps she represents something within me that still needs compassion.
I don't want to force the interpretation.
But I do know what I was doing.
I was helping someone who was afraid.
And that is different from where the dream began.
The Woman in the Lace-Covered Truck
And then came the strangest image of them all.
A truck covered in lace.
A woman was driving.
The truck was full of women.
And she looked at me.
Or perhaps she looked at both of us.
She never spoke.
She simply looked.
Then I woke up.
I find this part particularly interesting because the dream ended with a woman watching.
Earlier, I was in a theatre watching.
Now, at the end, someone was watching me.
But there was a difference.
At the beginning, I was surrounded by unfamiliar people and something uncomfortable was happening.
At the end, I was outside, helping someone who was vulnerable.
And someone saw it.
The truck itself was strong and functional, something capable of carrying weight.
Yet it was covered in lace—something delicate, intricate, and associated with covering.
Strength and delicacy.
Movement and covering.
A vehicle full of women.
A woman driving.
And a silent look.
I don't know exactly what this means.
And I'm okay with that.
Some things in a dream may not be revealed immediately.
I can write what I saw without pretending I know everything the Most High is saying through it.
What I Believe the Dream May Be Revealing
When I put the entire dream together, I see a progression:
The theatre:
I was surrounded by unfamiliar familiarity.
The uncomfortable encounter:
Something happened that I did not choose, and blame was misplaced.
The staircase:
I recognized that I needed to leave, but the way out looked frightening.
The climb:
I moved forward even though I was afraid.
The alternate path:
I discovered that what I thought was my only option wasn't actually my only option.
The missing family:
The people who surrounded me at the beginning were no longer there.
The girl:
I found myself outside, walking beside someone who was lost and afraid.
The truck:
Someone saw me helping her.
And perhaps the greatest revelation is this:
I made it out.
I didn't stay in the theatre.
I didn't stay at the bottom of the stairs.
I didn't let fear stop me.
I climbed.
I reached the top.
And on the other side, I was in a position to help someone else.
A Final Reflection
Maybe the dream isn't telling me that every difficult path is ordained.
Maybe it's teaching me not to confuse what I can see with all that exists.
Maybe it's reminding me that I can be afraid and still move.
Maybe it's showing me that some people will only accompany me for part of the journey.
Maybe it's revealing that there are people who will need the compassion I've gained through my own experiences.
Or maybe there is even more that the Most High will reveal later.
For now, this is what I am holding onto:
I don't have to understand every step to take the next one.
I don't have to know why the staircase appeared.
I don't have to know why I couldn't see the easier path.
I don't have to know why the family disappeared.
And I don't have to know who the girl was.
I can simply ask the Most High to give me understanding in His time.
Because Scripture says:
"If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of Elohim, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."
— James 1:5
So I will keep asking.
I will keep watching.
I will keep writing.
And I will keep bringing my dreams back to Scripture.
Because perhaps the point isn't always knowing exactly what the dream means the moment I wake up.
Perhaps sometimes the revelation comes through the journey of seeking.
And maybe that's what this dream was showing me all along:
The path may frighten me.
The way may confuse me.
I may not see the whole picture.
But Yah sees what I cannot see.
And if He leads me to the other side...
Maybe I'll discover that I wasn't only being brought out for myself.
Maybe I was being positioned to help someone else find their way, too.
-ToniRay
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