Prayer

Is there a proper way to pray? Who do you pray to?


There is this girl, who I admittedly dislike a great amount, who practically sneered when discussing the topic of praying. She said that Catholics don't know how to pray correctly - they're too repetitive, saints don't exist, Mary shouldn't be worshiped (since when has that happened?), you shouldn't pray to dead people, etc etc. In fact, she didn't like anything about Catholics, from how they don't site passage or verse numbers to animosity towards the Pope, but that's an entirely different discussion.


I, for one, did not know there was a wrong way to pray, but this girl was adamant in her beliefs and would not let me say otherwise. (For future reference, I walked away from this discussion before things got out of hand - we are not know to get along. At all. Ever.)

My first foray into praying led me to disturbing dreams - about baking apple pie of all things. Good thing I wrote it down when I woke up!

It was an extremely creepy dream. I'm not a baker by any means, a fact which was carried over into my dream. I was in an old Victorian house, very beautiful, with a fireplace in every room like I've always wanted. It was in the middle of a cornfield (odd), and there was a giant tree in the yard with a tire swing. It was very sunny outside, no clouds out. I was wearing an apron that had cherries on it (the devil is in the details, isn't it), standing in the kitchen looking outside. I remember hearing birds chirping.

I went back to my work, making apple pies. The pies themselves were premade, I just had to put the crust on the top and put it in the oven, which I was doing dutifully well. When I took the pie out of the oven, however, things got creepy. I had on oven mitts and was setting the pie on the stove when the sky suddenly became dark. The clouds rolled in quickly, like they normally do with thunderstorms, and the wind kicked up. Howling wind. The screen door to the porch flung open, papers went flying around the room. What I remember most, though, is the feeling. I was scared, it felt like someone, something, was coming to get me because it was mad. This, this was just a warning.

I've always been a believer in "dreams relate to real life". What an ominous dream. Hopefully it's not something trying to tell me I'm a terrible cook or that I am destined to live in the middle of nowhere, or that I am wasting my time trying to attain a dual degree in Mathematics and Physics because I'm going to end up being a housewife.

It initially put me off of praying again, as I'd assumed I'd obviously upset some angel or something by praying wrong. But then I realized, it was thunder storming when I went to bed that night, and I'd been rather stressed - it wasn't necessarily the result of prayer. Still, ominous and creepy and probably not a coincidence.

Anyway, long story short. I've never really prayed before, and I wonder if there is a "right" or "wrong" way, or if - like most other things - it does not matter.