The Dream That Shook Me: Grief, Covenant, Trauma, and Spiritual Discernment

"See, I am making all things new." Revelation 21:5 This dream was not a prophecy of doom. It was the cry of a heart learning to trust God again with covenant, family, and the future.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Christian retreat called the Walk to Emmaus. During the second night there, I had one of the most vivid and disturbing dreams of my life.

I was standing inside what felt like my daughter’s home. But inside the home was this massive zoo-like enclosure/cage filled with animals. In the middle of it was a beautiful pregnant tiger. Nearby stood an enormous lion.

Suddenly, the lion turned on the tiger.

He attacked her pregnant belly viciously. The scene became horrific and graphic as the tiger was ripped apart and the unborn baby was devoured. Then all the other animals in the enclosure began consuming what remained. Blood and internal organs covered the ground. I stood there witnessing it all, completely disturbed and helpless.

When I woke up, I couldn’t shake the dream. I was left shaken, nauseous even but strangely, I did not feel fear.

But I didn’t feel like the dream was evil or demonic. I felt like it meant something deeper.  I know that God can use dreams to speak to us, to give us a glimpse of something. And I have had dreams before that I know were from Him shortly after my loss of Brett. Dreams from God are not of fear, uncertainty or evil. This dream left me feeling as though God was speaking to me about something in my life, but I was not sure exactly what the message was yet.  

A few weeks have passed by and I have had some time to reflect on it.  I believe it was God revealing the emotional and spiritual weight I carry after surviving devastating loss.

To understand why this dream affected me so deeply, you need to understand part of my story…

In 2021, I lost my husband of 21 years to suicide. I was the one who found him. The trauma of that moment never fully leaves you. The blood, the shock, the helplessness. Those images become part of your nervous system and part of your grief, something that never goes away. There are wounds grief leaves behind that only God fully sees.

Recently, I remarried. My current husband was not a strong man of God in his past but He has truly been transformed by the Lord. The beginning our relationship did not come without complications, questions, hurt or doubt. Even now, I sometimes wrestle with guilt, uncertainty, and tension from various sources and what I feel is a spiritual warfare that tries to continue to intervene with God's goodness.

At the same time, my daughter’s are growing up, starting lives of their own; working towards building families and careers, their own goals and their own walk with Christ.  They are in the early stages of their faith and spiritual journey’s.  As a mother who has lived through the destruction that can happen when God is not truly centered in a marriage, I carry deep concern and discernment about the importance of spiritual alignment in covenant.

After reflecting on the dream, I wanted to take a deeper dive into the details of this dream.

Here is what I believe God was trying to convey to me:

Pregnancy in dreams often symbolizes: future generations, covenant, hope, something being formed, or life that has not yet fully arrived. The womb represents life, future, and legacy.

The tiger represented something beautiful, vulnerable and full of future potential. It symbolized: my daughters, their future marriages, future generations, or even my own heart trying to rebuild after grief.

The lion did not feel like Satan or evil in a direct sense. Instead, it felt symbolic of destructive forces: brokenness, spiritual imbalance, emotional wounds, unchecked pain, generational trauma, or the fear of history repeating itself.

The lion attacking the womb felt especially significant. It represented the fear of what can happen when covenant and family are not spiritually protected or spiritually aligned. 1 Peter 5:8 says: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”

Not every struggle is demonic, but Scripture is clear that spiritual vigilance matters. Marriages, families, and future generations all require spiritual covering, prayer, and surrender to God.

The zoo like enclosure itself symbolized a place where dangerous things coexist together. It reflected the reality that life contains both beauty and brokenness at the same time. We often try to keep chaos contained, but sometimes pain, trauma, fear, and vulnerability exist side by side beneath the surface. Jesus Himself said in John 16:33: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

The graphic violence of the dream makes more sense to me now through the lens of my trauma. When you have witnessed devastating loss firsthand, your mind often processes fear and grief through vivid imagery. The devouring represented what trauma feels like emotionally: consuming, overwhelming, helpless, and impossible to stop.

Grief has a way of making you feel as though everything beautiful could suddenly be swallowed whole. But Scripture reminds us that pain does not have the final word. (Romans 8:28 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.")

One thing that stood out to me more than anything else was that in the dream, I was not participating. I was witnessing. Standing there helpless like I could do nothing.

That mirrors one of the hardest truths I’ve had to learn after loss.

I cannot control the choices, futures, or outcomes of the people I love.

I could not save my first husband from his pain.

I cannot fully protect my daughters from heartbreak.

I cannot guarantee that anyone’s marriage will survive suffering.

That helplessness has become part of my grief story.

But I do believe God was showing me some important messages and I do not believe this dream was condemnation, but one of discernment born through grief. A soul that has witnessed covenant loss now longs to protect what is still being formed. The lion was not merely destruction, it was the fear of watching pain repeat itself.

After surviving profound loss, I now understand how fragile marriages and families can become when emotional wounds go untreated and God is not kept at the center. The wounded tiger carried the weight of motherhood, vulnerability, future generations, and love that feels fragile after trauma.

The dream was not saying:

“Your daughter’s futures are doomed.”

It was expressing something much deeper:

“You understand now how sacred and vulnerable covenant truly is.”

One of the hardest things for many Christians to accept is that God often works through imperfect stories. And when you feel the resentment, blame and tensions forming on the inside and then from others; it can really make you doubt, feel unworthy, guilty and broken, but God uses all of that to bring us to Him. 

Not because brokenness is good.

Not because every choice was right.

But because redemption is real.

My own life is evidence of that tension.

I have known devastating loss.

I have wrestled with guilt and uncertainty.

I have questioned how certain relationships formed.

And yet I have also witnessed God bring healing, restoration, and spiritual growth out of ashes.

That does not erase the pain.

But it does remind me that God still writes redemption into broken places.

I’m am still learning that discernment and fear can sometimes feel very similar. 

As a mother and widow, I now see risks I never noticed before. I understand the importance of spiritual unity in marriage in a way I never fully understood during my first marriage.

But I’m also learning that I cannot live trying to prevent every possible future wound.

I can pray.

I can encourage.

I can love.

I can speak truth gently.

And ultimately, I can surrender the people I love back into God’s hands.

At its core, I believe the dream was not about destruction.

It was about love. The deep love of someone who has suffered, survived, learned hard lessons, and desperately wants a different legacy for the next generation.

And maybe that’s what grief eventually becomes: not fear of loss, but wisdom born from surviving it.

Even in the darkness, Christ stands at the edge of the path. What was broken is not beyond redemption. What was wounded can still heal. What began in grief can still end in grace.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Psalm 147:3