The Blasphemous "Mass"

27 September 2012, undefined point in the wee hours of the morning

The first scenes took place in an undefined location, possibly an outdoor venue used for the Mass. I saw my close friends -- especially the two Peters I regularly meet at student Masses. I heard the priest uttering things which were not part of the prayers of the Roman Missal: in fact, they were blasphemous in nature. I felt deeply hurt, and I called out to the first Peter, who was going up to read. I broke out of the crowd and yelled with all my might, that the people may stop this farce at once.

But the people present there only laughed at me. I looked around and I saw the second Peter looking away to speak to someone. I began to wonder what was going on in his head and in his heart.

The next few scenes took place in an actual church, something similar to Westminster Cathedral, although what I saw in my head was a contorted version of Westminster Cathedral (or a chapel within the area). I hid on the floor, behind rows upon rows of chairs, so as not to be spotted during a particularly farcical Mass. Later I was walking down the corridors, accompanied by friends -- I could not make out who they were in the midst of this confusion and turmoil -- I was passing by the corridors of the cathedral only to hear ramblings on the pulpit over political agendas which were contrary to God's law... It came to the point that I had enough.


Context

This was an actual dream I had; hours before I had it, I had watched Fr Robert Barron's commentary on blasphemy, in the usual stream from Word on Fire.




It was disturbing, to say the least. When people glorify other things in the world and decide to abuse and insult God... it makes me sick. The dream that I had was a reflexion of this.

I now am able to relate, on a much better level, to what the martyrs of England and Wales must have felt when their liturgy was stripped away piece by piece, when their churches were torn apart and the Iconoclasm lorded over the land. I suppose this is the case. But this morning, I just had to pray. The only thing I could garner from that dream was this: because I wanted to keep the faith so much, I was so hurt by that blasphemy, I wanted God's truth to be shown in full.

But surely there is more. Admittedly, this is not the first time I have ever had blasphemous thoughts pop into my dreams. This is not the first time I have had contorted Catholicism served to me on a platter without me asking. In truth, I wonder what all of this really means...