Peinless Jayson

I dreamt last week of a man named Jesse Peine, a man, a spiritual leader, who you would never know or see unless you were seeking him out – or in a context where his gifts can be recognized.

It started by meeting a guy my age, 20s or early 30s, short beard, denim overalls, denim hat. My first impression – ‘typical hill guy, maybe a farm hand, probably uneducated.’

But when this man spoke, it didn’t matter what he was saying, my heart leaped in the recognition of soulful kinship. He apparently recognized me as well and we begain and unlikely fellowship – not a friendship based on likes or dislikes, not on outward personalities and ultimately not based on shared beliefs either.

The soul recognition was so deep that I didn’t even bother to ask my new simple friend his name and he didn’t offer neither.

I was invited to his house and followed – a simple white painted home in what looked like an average suburb. Before entering, in his driveway, I learned that he hadn’t had a meal in a week. “I take nothing for myself unless it is given to me by God,” he said.

Then he invited me in. This felt like an ultra-Christian religious environment, but I did my best to keep exploring because there was a twist here that I was determined to uncover. I was intrigued to know more.

Entering the domain of this house – we really just passed through the back garage door to the backyard. I was surprised to find a party going on. Lots of food, even alcohol, to my surprise. I knew I was here to find their leader, the man I was looking for, but he wasn’t at the party outdoors anyway.

Donald was at this party, wearing a framed cape with a huge Beaver-like stuffed animal skin stretched along it. The Beaver tail flowed and undulated as he walked. When I saw Donald I grabbed his shoulders and started jumping – just high enough for this Beaver cape to catch the wind & slow our fall. Then the realization of what we were doing set in and the fun really began. We jumped higher and higher and found things to jump off of too. We even did this running jump that floated us 10-20 feet at a time if the cape was at the right angle like the flight wing of a 747.

I thanked Donald, then my search for the spiritual teacher of this group really consumed me. He wasn’t at the party outside. Could I go in? I found I was invited in. I found Jesse, a young tall man in the same young age bracket, in a small alcove of the house, holding a bible-like leather bound book and his greeting to me was ‘in glory to Jesus.’ Pretty strong and forward, I thought, but I couldn’t resist this energy I was experiencing.
Jesse then handed me a small stack of CDs, music mixes that he had made, under the pseudonym of “Peineless Jason.” This was encsribed on the front of the Jewel case, with little golden orange butterflies around it.

I wondered about the meaning of this name, Peineless Jayson, and the image of a bluebird came to mind – a blue jay – singing with the energy of isolation, scripture & the glorification of Christ energy. But about the Peineless part?

Then the dream shifted:

I was in a large brick warehouse converted into a housing facility for the spiritual group. The layout was completely open, the furniture sparse and limited to a few couches, and some industrial equipment, a rusty crane-like object garnished the vaulted brick walls in a grandiose way.

The punchline to this place – was that is was on fire. I was suddenly shocked by the realization that flames were consuming everything and it seemed intelligent, almost as though their group was under some spiritual attack by an unknown demonic force. The group members were getting knocked around as fiery burning furniture was slide twisting across the floor. And I even saw one girl get clothes-lined by an unseen hand, falling backward in a blow to the floor that seemed to take my own wind out.

“Is this some kind of Satanic attack?” I wondered.

A response came from a corner of the besieged room.

“Everyone must face their inner adversary in the fire.”

Sure enough, in a burning closet-like alcove of this crazy place, lay Jesse Peine, casually reclined on one elbow and surrounded by fire. His clothes were even lit in flames that reminded me of the wavy glow of a fireplace. Then I was shocked to see him pucker his lips and inhale, sucking into his body the layer of fire that was on his shirt. He was amused, like a child, looking down at his shirt in a spirit of innocence, curiosity and experimentation. He was completely at ease, and yet showed no desire to “rescue” his disciples from their own struggles.

Suddenly, “Peineless” seemed to fit this remarkable man.

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