Dreams and Visions

I have been preaching about prophets for two weeks in a row, and this morning I woke up after a particularly vivid dream.  The notable thing about this is that I remember it vividly, and I have a sense of what it means, despite there being some definitely dreamlike features.  I don't really remember my dreams very often, so this seems to me to be worth sharing.
I was at church, it was a Tuesday morning, a fact I knew because of the cast of known people who were present. Our church has a Tuesday morning women's bible study and their husbands and other retired men are often here doing fix-it-up stuff.  So Tuesday morning can be one of those times when I get wrapped up in various projects and conversations.  Indeed I actually plan for that.  I had just had a semi-counseling type conversation with one couple from my congregation and I walked across the hall from my office into the choir room.  Immediately I was confronted by a red-headed man, who I do not actually know in real life. He was dressed in an expensive suit and he was a close talker, meaning he insisted on standing really close to me when he spoke, despite my efforts to back up.  I noticed that he had two other men with him and that they were holding bibles and some sort of pamphlet.  I couldn't quite concentrate on what he was saying because I felt very uncomfortable with his insistence on violating my personal space.  After several attempts to simply back away from him and having him simply step closer, I actually pushed him back and said, "I'm going to need you to give me a little space." To which he got this unusual smirk on his face but kept a more comfortable distance.
Once I started listening to what he was saying, my level of anger and discomfort began to rise again.  This is another strange thing about this particular dream: I was acutely aware of my own emotional responses to the events, and my reactions, including the push off were not simply reactions, they were intentional.  This man was clearly giving me a speech and offering me one of the pamphlets.  I do not remember the exact content of the speech but the gist of it was that Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity were really trying to save the Christian faith from a bunch of godless liberals, and the tract he was giving me was a documentation of all the ways that conservative culture warriors were our last best hope to be the chosen people of God once again.  His argument was a over-simplified version of a somewhat more nuanced reality that we know all too well in America in the 21st century.
"What do you think about Rush Limbaugh?" The man asked me.
"I think he's a piece of..." and I paused, realizing that I was in church and that congregation members were present. "Crap," I said, "He's a bloated sac of crap."  All in all not the most beatific statement I could have made, but honest, because after all, my subconscious was running the show.
The three men became confrontational then, quoting "scripture" at me, but the thing is I knew that none of the "verses" they were actually using were actually in the Bible.  Now, I don't have the Bible memorized or anything, but what they were reading out of their books was literally the opposite of what is actually in the Bible, they were about the glorification of the strong, and the subjugation of the weak.  They were verses that challenged followers of Jesus to be aggressive, power-wielding culture warriors.
That's when I got really outwardly angry in the dream.  I started with Matthew 7: 21, "not everyone who says to me 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in Heaven." Then jumped to a series of invective statements by Jesus from Matthew 23, in rapid succession, and as I did the three well dressed men retreated down the hallway and of our office wing and out into the narthex. As we went it was like the words of Jesus were a scourge to them. As we got to the door of the church, I got to what I believe may be the root of my prophetic subconscious angst, Exodus 23: 9, "You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt."
They were silent but they still didn't want to leave, and so I simply started shouting, "Repent!" But it wasn't just shouting repent, it was singing/yelling, "Repent!" It wasn't my voice, it was Frank Black, from The Pixies song Caribou:

So take that for what it's worth, maybe it's a message from God, maybe it's indigestion, but I'm sort of leaning towards the former, because like I said, I don't really remember my dreams very often.