A Dreamer's Season: Part Four

PART IV
This is it, this is the end. I now stand before the Judge and I know this is real, where I go in my sleep is real. He has read off my list of sins and many great misdeeds and I am now being condemned to death. The court room is silent as the last words of the Judge echo’s, he says to me, in load booming voice, “Zoey Barishtakov, how do you plead?” we have come full circle and I have changed, I have realized I am responsible for my actions and I have to answer for them, I cannot balm anyone else now.
Suddenly the full force of what is happening hits me. If I answer ‘guilty’ I will be condemned to death and if I answer ‘innocent’ I would be laying and add yet another sin to my every growing list. I weight the concrescence and I feel very sick to my stomach, I immediately do not want to die, I want to live. I want to be free; I wish it was like I had never done any of it. I feel the sorrow deep inside as it wells-up inside me. Then I hear screaming, ear-shattering screaming, that came for the very depths of one’s soul. I realized it was me! I was chocking on my tears, painting and gasping for air, the screams kept coming but by now they were soundless and I was pouring myself forth. There was no way out; no way to forget and go on. This was the end.
I continue to scream and I feel the bile rise at the back of my throat; I vomited on the ground and continued wailing in a pool of my tears and vomit. There is no hope.
The voice came again, “Zoey? How do you plead?”
“GUILTY!!” I yelled, “Guilty, guilty,” I cry out.
“We the court, and the law of God, have laid these charges before you, we the court, find the defendant guilty as charged. We, sentence the defendant to eternal damnation in Hell; before the defendant in taken to Hell, does anyone chose to stand in her stead?” the only noise in the court room was my whimpering; my whole body aches from crying.
“Since no one has chosen to stand in your stead, You, Zoey Barishtakov, are sentence to Hell forever,” He lifted up his heavy golden gravel and was about to bang it down, when the doors at the back of the room opened.
In walks a short man with brown clothes, he is stumped over. The man has messy brown hair and there was nothing attractive about him, with dull brown eyes and unkempt bread. But the thing I noticed about him most is his unusually small, callused, yet strong, hands. I am mesmerized by those hands. I watch as they unlatch the small door in between the audience and the fount of the court room. I watch those hands as they reached up to the Judge and as two scrolls are placed in them. I watch as the hands tightened their grip and the man turns and begins walking out of the room. Unlikely before as he passed me, this time he looks in the eye.
I cannot begin to tell what I saw in those eyes, such love, love that you could see; the depths of the ocean, the heights of the mountains in those eyes. Such love, such devotion, I had never seen. I saw eternity in those eyes, the mysteries of the universe in those eyes. But just a glimpse as he turns and is gone; had I ever looked in those eyes before? I know from this moment on I will never be the same even though I am going Hell. I least I got to see those eyes before I die. I shall remember them always. I stand up from my filth with renewed courage and I say to the Judge.
“I am ready now, you can take me.” The Judge stops gathering papers and looks down at me a bit confused.
“Whatever do you mean?” he asks me.
“Please, just lets be done with it, I am ready.” The Judge looks bewildered and then I see as amusement played across his face.
“If you mean your judgment, it is no more.”
“What are you talking about?” I nearly yell.
“Do you not know? That man just took your punishment.” he says, “You’re free to go. The law is satisfied; you no longer have a punishment.”
“What? What?” I cry out, “But, no, no, no! Stop him don’t let him do it! It’s my punishment not his! Just give it to me instead!” I yell as I run up to the Judge’s box.
“No, he took it, your name is clear.” He shows be a big, massive book. I see my name: ‘Zoey Barishtakov: FORGIVEN.’
“No,” I cannot stop the tears, “It can’t be! No!” the Judge closes the book, and says
“The court will now see Case Number 532218, the crown against Marcus Lewd, in...” his voice fades as I am lead away and I wake up.
I cannot believe it! I simply cannot believe it; I really cannot! I look for the guilt and it’s gone, it all gone. I feel clean for the first time in my life. I stumble out of bed and begin weeping on the floor I just cannot believe that man took that for me. And I am not in Hell where I should be! I scream!
“No!” that was the only good and perfect man I had ever seen and now he was dead for me. But why? I had never seen him before! Why did do that for me?
Calvin comes to my side and holds me, sweet man, but I will not comforted when someone is in Hell right now because of me. I work myself into a hysteria for the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital; with a very worried Calvin at the side.

They pocked and prated me for two days. And I had not slept, I sat mostly in a fixated state, Calvin said it scared him and I try to stop but all I saw was Hell and eternal damnation and how that man was there instead of me. Doctors came and went and asked question and wanted to know what was going on, and when I tried to tell them they cut me off, or would not listen. So I stop trying. I just sat and saw Hell, the place I should be.
On the third day I was sitting in my bed stating at the wall, seeing the flames of Hell, when a short man in a brown overcoat walked in. I thought he was another doctor and thought nothing of it when he sat down and looked at my charts.
“How are you feeling Zoey?” his voice was so soft I was startled and I turned and looked at him. No one had asked that question, even once. I was a bit shocked. I studied the doctor, he had brown hair, dull brown eyes, an unkempt bread (looking back I realise I have never meet a doctor with an unkempt bread), and very small hands. He seemed so gentile, I felt safe with him.
“Well, to be honest, I don’t really feel well at all.” I said looking down.
“How come?” he asks me softly.
“It's these dreams I have been having...” I answered hesitantly, I felt so alone, no one understands.
“What are they?” the man asks quietly. I open my heart and tell him every dream and everything I have done and well I exposed everything he did not judge, nor did he seem shocked and surprised when I told him all the wrong I had done; he was genital and he passed me tissues when I cried and held my hand when I needed strength to go on. And I felt like the first time in my life that I had a friend, who cared, who understood.
When I was done he wrote something down and put the clipboard back and looked up at me and what I saw there nearly stopped my heart. Such raw, over-whelming love, I was taken back, it was so pure, and it was the essence of love, such I had never encountered until that day.
He walked to the end of my bed and puts his hand on my foot and says, “I hope that you feel better real soon,” and he really meant it, “Have a good day Zoey,” then he turned and walked out.
And I did feel better, telling him everything, I felt a lot better. And I soon slept.

I knelt in the dirt and I heard the heavens overhead thunder and I saw flashed of lightening. I felt the earth beneath me shake. I looked around at the chaos, men and horses running, trying to get away, women screaming and I hear crying somewhere else. I look around to see what has cause the disturbance. Then I see it, the remains of a man, hanging on a cross, blood is everywhere, I say ‘remains’ because there could not possible be a person alive in there. The body was so torn. Flash dangling, organ exposed, and the blood everywhere. The ‘remains’ didn’t even look all it could have once been a person. I felt sick to me stomach just look at ‘it’.
Then I see a hung white being standing beside the cross. He, what looks like a ‘he’ must be a least 20 feet tall and he looks sternly at me as he holds a big book. His load voice booms and it is so load I am afraid I will go deft. He says to me, “LOOK UPON THE ONE YOU HAVE PIERCED!” I scream as I understand this is the man I have beaten, whipped, hammered the nail through his hands, mocked and I was the one who rail and demeaned him death, NO! I take it back! But I as I look at the blood around me see that I cannot.
“LOOK UPON THE ONE YOU HAVE PIERCED!” His voice reaching into the innermost part of me.
“No, I can’t.” I yell, guilty, I did this! I cannot look at what I have done! I did this!
“LOOK UPON THE ONE YOU HAVE PIERCED!” the voice is even louder than before, I feel my heart breaking inside me, but I must look. I look up upon his face and the small beady eyes look back at me. But hated I do not find; and at first it takes me a moment to place what the look means. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, love, just love, unfathomable love. But how? How could after all that I did to him? How? Love stares me in the eye, and I watch as he takes his last breath. As I look down torn body and at the bottom I see two scrolls. Intrigued I go over to them I open the first one.
I am surprised as I find my name on the top, and under it is every sin that I have ever done. I scream this was the same man who took my punishment from me and then to find I was the one who punished him! I could not stand! How could I have done this? I scream and cry, I DID THIS! I should be the one up there; I should be the one who is died and on the cross. Why did he do this for me?
Then I watch as miracle happens, a drop of blood hits the parchment and my big ugly list of my sin begin to disappear as the blood washes it away. Then at the bottom I see the big black angry letters ‘MURDER’ and his blood even covers that. The scroll is empty, there is nothing left. At top it has my name and beside it says ‘FOREVEN’. I cry out again.
With shaking hands I open the other scroll and I see my punishment written out. “Zoey Barishtakov is hereby sentence by, the Royal order and Law of God, to eternal damnation in Hell, FOREVER!” and I watch as second miracle happens a drop of blood lands on the paper and the words are washed away. As if I had never done anything. I wept and lament, but how? Why did he do that that? Why? I look up at the one who is died on the cross and I am filled with mixed emotions of pain and confusion, and gratitude unexplainable gratitude! I scream again as I watch the men pierce his body and blood and water come out, he was innocent all along and I did this to him, but why?
I wake up screaming and coughing, choking on my tears. The nurse and doctor surround me, I am flailing and screaming. After some time of fighting they heavily sedate me. I dream nothing but blackness.

It has been a few day since then and they have slowly decreased the dosage as I have calm down. But I will never forget, or be the same.
I sit, alone and try to reason why he did that for me. I have not stopped crying from that moment on. My life will never be the same. I am so humbled by what he did for me. How could I even go on? When someone died for me...and I killed him. And even to the end he loved me. I am so humbled and I do not even have the words to describe how I feel inside. Sometimes I am so happy I do not have to die and sometimes I feel so guilty and the weight of it threatens to drown me in sorrow.
Calvin does know what to do with me and my tears but he stays close to me. And the nurses are kind and I am very grateful for them. The doctors came and check up on me once in a while but there is nothing to be done. It was several days letter and I muse about that nice doctor that came that one day so I asked a nurse about him.
“I don’t know who you talking about.” She says, “I know all the doctors and I have never heard of one dressed in brown.” She checks my temperature, writes down that I am crazy and then leaves. Of course I do not know what she really wrote but I’m sure it was along those lines by the looks she gave me. But I do not care anymore.
I wonder about that doctor and if I will ever see him again. That night when it was very late and I hear Calvin sleeping, a man walks into my room. He sits on the other side of the bed and has on a dark red shirt and black pants; he has brown hair and a nicely kept beard.
“Hello Zoey, how are you feeling?” he asks gently and I recognize that voice but I cannot place him.
“I don’t know anymore.” I answer softly, “I just, it’s just that...well everything...”
“Go on,” he gently persists.
“It’s different.” I cry. “And I don’t know up from down or well anything.”
“What happened to you, to make you feel this way?” he softly asks
“I had a dream, no, it wasn’t a dream. But I really there and everyone tells me it a dream. I just know I was there, and it was real.” I sob, “I did awful things and, and this man, he, he died for me! And I don’t understand why. I just can’t believe someone would do that for me!” the man look at me and smiles.
“I know why.” He say, “It because he love you” and those words hit me so hard, it takes my breath away.
“But why? I am horrible person and I put him on the cross. Why would he do that?” I nearly yell.
“Zoey do you not see,” and then I do see, it is him, the one who did this for me, sitting before me. “I love you Zoey. I died for you Zoey. But because of you, death could not hold me down. Nothing could stop from loving you. I died for you because I love you. I was rejected,” and I remember the dream where I was yelling ‘crucify him’. “So that you Zoey could be accepted. My strips,” and I remember beating him with the whip, “where for your healing, Zoey. I did all of that so that you see how much I love you. How much I want you to be free! The day you dad left you and the abandonment you felt, was my abandonment. Your pain is my pain. Your joy is my joy, Zoey you were the joy set before me to endure the cross. And this” he holds out his hand,
“These holes,” he holds his hands out to me and I see the holes in them. Holes that I put there, “are for you wholeness,” I cry and he holds me. I will never understand this love so whole, pure and undefiled. He pulls me away and. He kisses my forehead and looks me in the eye and say “Zoey, for you I would do it again!” I cry and shack and as my vision is blurred by tears when I blink them away. He is gone. But his presence remains. And from that day I was never the same I will never forget his love. After that time in my life, I never dreamt again. It was a dreamer’s season.
And miracles of miracles the doctors soon let me leave the hospital, Calvin gave me a job at his cafe and he lives with his brother until our wedding in June. And as for the mysterious man? Well that's another story!

















~Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.~ Hebrews 12:2





Picture can be found at:
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