1 Corinthians 3:12-15

"But if people build on that foundation, using gold, silver, jewels, wood, grass, or straw, their work will be clearly seen, because the Day of Judgment will make it visible. That Day will appear with fire, and the fire will test everyone's work to show what sort of work it was. If the building that has been put on the foundation still stands, the builder will get a reward. But if the building is burned up, the builder will suffer loss. The builder will be saved, but it will be as one who escaped from a fire."

Proverbs 3:31

"Don't be jealous of those who use violence, and don't choose to be like them."

Luke 16:13

"No servant can serve two masters. The servant will hate one master and love the other or will follow one master and will refuse to follow the other. You cannot serve both God and worldly riches."

Genesis 40:8

"...God is the only One who can explain the meaning of dreams..."

Travis Galager stirred in his sleep, vaguely aware of the shafts of light that were peeking through the blinds that shielded his window. His lips were parted slightly, mouthing the words of the unfinished prayer from last night when he had crawled into bed around two in the morning. His eyes flitted against the sheet he had drawn up over his head, and it stuck to his face like a wet towel, gathering its moisture from the beads of sweat that had gathered on his face over the hours of enduring nightmares. His breathing came in short gasps beneath the sheet and to any onlooker one might suspect the poor man to be suffocating. But Travis wasn't gasping for air because of the cloth placed over his head, but rather the thoughts that had been engraved into his mind. The same thoughts and nightmares that revisited him at least once a week, in its repeating fashion.

It always started with a light. A blazing light that filled his mind and left him disoriented and in a state of complete helplessness. He would close his eyes shut--as tight as he could--but to no avail. The light was still shining so bright he felt he would go blind at any given moment.

And then he did.

Everything got pitch-black. Blacker than pitch-black. And out of the darkness rose two glaring eyes, deep dark eyes that seemed to glow by the kindling passion and hate and desire that Travis recognized burning in them. The eyes belonged to no body. They just floated in the darkness, tearing at Travis' heart and soul. His mind begged him to look away, but he just couldn't wrench his stare from the eyes' iron grip. "Travisss..."

A voice like a snake's filled his mind, whispering quietly, whispering quickly as if with a sense of urgency. What was happening? The eyes were speaking? No. It was then that Travis realized that there must be a body connected to those heart-stopping eyes. This was an actual person, whispering his name, trying to draw him in like a fish from the sea. "Travis..."

Travis started, heart pounding in his chest so hard that it threatened to break through his rib cage. His ears buzzed with anticipation of the fear that that clawed at the surface of his mind, daring to break loose and cause pandemonium upon all common sense and knowledge.

Click! Travis caught his breath. He was almost certain his heart had stopped or had at least punctured a rib. All was silent as he stared ahead at those monstrous eyes, still glaring at him from nearly ten feet away. Click!

Travis tried to move his right arm, but couldn't. He was numb--frozen with a fear that gripped him so tight it crushed all bodily functions. His body was a as stiff as a board, resigned to staying this way for as long as time allowed.

He stared straight ahead, unblinking--for his mind could not even control that--and searched the monster's eyes before him for any hope, any mercy that could possibly have surfaced. There was none.

Without warning a thunderous boom! echoed about him, reverberating in his ears, making his heart crash against his chest yet again. He inhaled deeply only to find that his air was gone--it had been vacuumed out of the room, now filled with only empty space.

Travis blinked. Opened his eyes. White filled his vision. Not again! He opened his mouth and sucked in at the air, only to find that no oxygen was filling his lungs. Instead something rough and bitter-tasting crowded his mouth. He flailed his arms to find that his body was not longer incapable of doing so, and screamed against this pressure in his chest. He pulled his right arm in front of his face and lifted it up as if he were swimming. A piece of cloth came away with his hand, spilling from his mouth as he pulled. He coughed and sputtered, trying to regain composure as he sat up and looked around him, half expecting to meet the dark eyes he had just seen not thirty seconds ago. Instead light flooded into the comfort of his apartment room, illuminating all the aspects of the place he called home.

Travis sighed and shook his head, taking deliberate breaths as he tried to get his heart-rate back to normal speed. This was the way he awoke at least once a week. What had he done to contribute to this madness? He had considered seeing a psychiatrist nearly a month ago--the first time he had woken like this--but then it stopped for five days. When the dream recurred that following week, he had called Dr. Brent Jacobs, who insisted these dreams were just a figment born from stress--Travis just needed to relax and let God run his life instead of trying to take matters into his own hands.

Travis had smirked at this suggestion. This was one of the main reasons he had chosen Dr. Jacobs to call. The man was one of the richest psychiatrists in the nation and was very strong in his Christian beliefs. Not so unlike Travis.

Travis swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet felt like lead and he wouldn't be one bit surprised to find that they had swollen twice their size beneath his white socks. He glanced down and was momentarily relieved when he noticed they looked normal--no sign of swelling.

He jerked his eyes across his room to the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand by his bed. 8:04. He sighed and got to his feet, making his way toward the bathroom. It never failed--no matter how tired he was, no matter how late he stayed up--his body never allowed him to sleep beyond eight-thirty. It was as if he were a human alarm clock, destined to tick away the time for all of eternity.

Travis rounded the doorpost of his bathroom and squinted at his reflection against the mirror. Dark blue eyes gazed back at him, slightly covered by the brown hair that had been swept to one side during his battle with his dreams. His white T-shirt clung to him, outlining the form of his muscles. His usually clean-shaven face was dark and haggard looking from neglect of a razor, and dark circles had begun to form beneath his eyes.

Travis groaned and turned on the faucet, dipping his hands beneath the water and bringing it up to his face. This was not the way a twenty-six year old man should look. If anything, he looked several years beyond his age. Dr. Jacobs blamed it on the stress in Travis' life. But there was no stress--what was so stressful about being a well-known architect and a best-selling author? Other than the occasional book-signing of the #1 Bestseller Day of Flight, and this new deadline issued by his publishers for a sequel, he was stress-free! His job as an architect had momentarily been put on hold for the time being. He had taken this entire week off to dedicate to getting a head-start on his new book.

Travis flinched as he threw the cool water onto his face. Day of Flight... He still had trouble believing it himself. To think--he was an author! And a best-selling author at that! Amazing how a story of one pilot's death and a family's secret could capture the attention of millions around the globe.

He still remembered the very first day he had seen his novel sitting on bookshelves and the joy it brought to his heart to watch people pass by, picking it up to read the back. He never would have dreamt that one day it would have brought him here--working out of one of New York's finest apartment complexes and writing a sequel to one of the world's most beloved Christian novels. Stressful indeed!

Travis turned the knob on the faucet. No sooner had he done so, and a shrill ring came from the hallway that led to the kitchen. What now? Sometimes he wished he wasn't such a well-known man--then perhaps he would have a moment's privacy.

He grabbed a towel from the right-hand drawer under the sink and dabbed at his face with it. The phone rang again.

"I'm coming!" he yelled, then realized the foolishness of it. This was a just reminder that his over-worked imagination needed a rest.

He more stumbled than walked down the hallway, making sure the blinds to the windows were drawn. No need to show all of New York America's hottest Christian novelist's plaid boxer-shorts. He smiled slightly as he pulled up next to the small table which the phone rested on. He glanced at the Caller ID. C PRESTON. He snatched the phone from its cradle right as it began its third ring.

"Hello?" His voice gurgled as if he were speaking under water. Great.

There was a pause and then a female voice. "Travis?" Crystal.

Travis cleared his throat and tried again. "Sorry, I just woke up," he explained. He could almost hear her nodding at the other end of the phone.

Crystal Preston was one of the most understanding, most caring people he had ever met. Her strong faith and commitment were two factors that Travis never doubted in their relationship.

"Late night last night?" she asked, with a slight tease in her voice.

Travis walked through the doorway to his kitchen. "Yes, a very late night. I met with my editor from RNStein Publishing yesterday." He reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of Sprite, ignoring the small squeal that had escaped from Crystal’s mouth. "They're pulling for a sequel to Day of Flight. Jared Crenshaw wants a copy of the book sitting on his desk by Christmas Eve." He popped the lid of the can and sat on one of the bar stools surrounding the counter. "That gives me exactly nine months to pull something together. I've taken this entire week off to begin gathering ideas and start writing." Yeah, as if it's actually going to help. Face it, Travis, you're fresh out of ideas! He stared at the counter, letting it all sink in.

"What's it going to be about?" Crystal asked, and for a moment Travis imagined her bright green eyes blinking in wonder at him.

He stopped, brought the can to his lips and drank. That's a good question, Travis. What's your new book about? You know, the sequel to Day of Flight "Well...I'm not exactly sure." He shook his head, slightly ashamed. "I'm working on it."

"I received a call from Diane this morning," she said, making a point to change the subject. "She said she noticed your light didn't turn off until nearly two in the morning. I thought your appointment with Mr. Crenshaw was supposed to be over at 10." She paused, waiting to see if he would add input. He stayed silent. "She's worried about you--we all are."

Travis creased his eyebrows. Worried? Worried about what? What did it matter that he had stayed up writing the remainder of the time he had left when he arrived home? He was an author wasn't he? It angered him that he felt he had no private life. He definitely hadn't expected all the attention he had received from Day of Flight, but he'd assumed it would die down by now. But here he was, three and a half years later, caught up in the same chaos of fame. His architectural business had grown greatly since the novel's release also. Requests to design buildings worth billions of dollars became routine within the first eight months on the job. Yes, he was clawing his way up in the social status. Slowly but surely.

"Travis?"

Travis blinked. "Sorry..." What was wrong with him? Maybe there was something to worry about.

"I received a call from Diane this morning," she repeated, as if he hadn't heard her the first time.

"Yes, I know." Crystal's aunt lived in the apartment directly across the street. It was actually through Diane that the two had met. He still remembered that day in the park when he had run into Diane, accidentally spilling her coffee down the front of her pink blouse and apologizing numerous times for his carelessness. She'd insisted it was fine and had set the packages in her hand on the pavement as she dabbed at her shirt with a handkerchief. It was then that he'd looked down at what she'd been carrying to see the blue face of his book staring back at him.

Everything began then. Two weeks later he met Diane's niece, Crystal, and he knew the moment he had lain eyes on her that they were perfectly compatible. Perhaps even destined to be together.

And this proved to be true. Now, nearly three years later, they were still together, and very soon Travis planned to make their relationship last a lifetime.

Travis took a breath and exhaled, twisting the tab on the can back and forth. Where to start, where to start? Talking over the phone was definitely one of his weak points. He didn't have a great concentration.

"I had the dream again," he finally said.

Now it was Crystal’s turn to be silent. What could possibly be running through her mind, he didn't know. She's probably thinking you're crazy right about now, he thought. A low hum passed between them, making Travis feel even more uncomfortable.

"So..." He tapped his right foot nervously. Was she even listening? He paused. "Hello?"

Crystal coughed into the receiver. "Maybe you should see Dr. Jacobs again. You know...just until these dreams subside."

"Yeah.." He sounded dazed. Confused. Still reeling from the re-occurring nightmare.

They were both silent for a moment. Dear God, help me! No wonder she thinks I'm crazy! This just didn't sit right with him. Dr. Jacobs was a good man and all, but... Another visit to the shrink? This may very well be proof that he wasn't as sane as he thought.

"Crystal..." he blurted without thinking, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

No, not before, Travis, but now she does.

She giggled and, surprisingly, he didn't regret the question. Something about her laugh...and her smile brought glee to replace the fear that had been haunting him for the past ten minutes. "Of course not!" she exclaimed and he felt the corners of his lips rise. No wonder he loved this woman. Her laughter slowly subsided, but he could still detect the hint of a smile in her voice. "Listen, Travis, you're just going through a difficult time," she said matter-of-factly, as if having the same dream revisit him every week was a normal thing everyone went through. "You just have a lot on your plate right now. It'll get better." She paused. "How about this... After you have your counseling session with Dr. Jacobs--assuming you actually go--come and meet me for dinner. My house. Five o'clock. Sound good?"

Travis smiled. This was the woman he loved. The woman he wished to spend every waking moment with. The woman he would hold in his arms forever--even in eternity. "Sounds good."