Recently a friend's wife had a dream, which she passed on to me. It went something like this:
She saw me riding in a traveller's caravan, heading out into the desert, away from a large town. The message of the dream was:
'Turn back to the safety and security of the city.'
I was grateful for this dream and went on holiday! - to Port Isaac, a pretty, slumbering fishing village in North Cornwall, where every piece of land is used and the houses are shuffled together and tumble towards the sea. The scenery, of course, is wonderfully inspiring and ideal for coastal walks.
One bright morning we decided to walk to Pine Haven, a rock strewn inlet on the Cornish Coastal Path. At this place we decided to have some time with the Lord. Having finished our prayer time, I said the word 'Shalom'. At that moment, a great squadron of seagulls, some 100 birds, began gliding into the inlet. Silently and without effort, they rode on the wind and one by one landed in the sea forming, over a few minutes, a bobbing island of white. I then threw a large stone and a couple of seconds later I heard the dull plop above the sound of the waves. Looking down some minutes later, we saw that a cloud of foam had formed on the surface of the sea, riding the waves in a gentle rhythm. Suddenly, Jenny noticed what she thought was a person swimming near the foam. In turned out to be a seal who, having broken the surface, seemed to be clapping his flippers in joy.
In the afternoon we travelled to Tintagel, the fabled home of King Arthur. Regardless of whether it is true, it's certainly a good story! High on the cliffs, we looked down from the precarious wooden steps that cling to the side of the rock face. The mist thrown up by the waves refracted the bright sunlight. It was a glorious view; the hazy sun threw a great area of liquid gold onto the sea: A photographer's dream! The warm wind blew strongly in our faces as we made for the top of the promontory. It seemed such a wild place. Far, far below we could hear the waves echoing as they crashed against the unforgiving rocks. Now, here on the top, there were only the remains of a walled garden, a well and some foundations which made slight grey patterns amidst the grass. What a vantage point though! Out across the water the sea continued to reflect the racing clouds and the golden sunlight.
Then came the finale of what had been a wonderful day. Turning at a T-junction on to the Port Isaac road there, on the verge, was a traveller with his two horses. Parked behind them was a beautiful caravan, decorated with bright colours. I hadn't seen one in years and years. In that one moment the dream became reality!