I had a dream not long ago that left my spirit trembling, not with fear, but with awe. It was one of those rare moments when you wake up knowing that Heaven just spoke—directly, clearly, and with purpose. It was not the kind of dream you quickly forget. It had weight. It lingered like incense after prayer.
In this dream, I found myself walking along the shores of a vast, endless ocean. The waters shimmered with light, and yet, there was a sacred silence in the air, as though the heavens were watching. Without hesitation, I walked into the waters. It was not a swim. No. I was drawn in. Compelled. As though the Spirit of the Lord had summoned me for something deeper than I had known before.
The moment I entered the ocean, I began to bathe. It was not like the bathing of the flesh we do at home. It was as if every drop of water knew where to go—my spirit, my soul, my past. It felt like the water itself was washing me inside-out, not just removing dirt, but unburdening me of weights I didn’t even know I was carrying. There was no soap, no scrubbing, just waves of God’s presence lapping over me. I felt undone, like Isaiah in the temple when he saw the Lord and cried, “Woe is me, for I am undone!” (Isaiah 6:5, NKJV).
As I bathed, I looked back to the shore. To my surprise, the tide had swept away my clothes. They were gone. Disappeared. I was naked in the ocean. Not ashamed. Not exposed. But bare before the presence of the Lord. I knew in that moment that this dream was not about water. It was about surrender. It was about purification. It was about the call to lay everything down—even the garments that defined my yesterday.
The tide had not stolen my clothes. The tide had taken them as an offering. God was doing something prophetic.
When I came out of the water, I found the clothes again—drenched, wrinkled, and salt-soaked—but I did not put them back on. I hung them up to dry, not because I would wear them again, but because they were a testimony. A symbol of what I had come out of. A reminder that even the old, though washed, was not to be worn again.
As I sat with this dream in prayer, the Lord began to speak to me through Scripture and His Spirit. This was not a random series of symbols. It was a call to deeper sanctification.
The ocean in the dream is not just water. It is the Spirit of God in His vastness—His uncontrollable, untamable, sovereign nature. Remember what the Bible says in Habakkuk 2:14: “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.” The waters of God cover everything. They touch everything. They hide nothing. And when God invites you into His waters, He is inviting you into an encounter where you are no longer the same.
I was bathing in God. Cleansing not with human hands but through divine intention. The dream reminded me of Titus 3:5, “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit.” That’s what was happening. The ocean was not a place. It was a Person—the Holy Spirit Himself, washing, regenerating, renewing.
Now, let’s talk about the clothes. In dreams, clothing often represents identity, covering, reputation, righteousness—or lack thereof. The fact that my clothes were swept away by the tide spoke volumes. It meant that God was removing the garments of yesterday. The self-made, the stained, the familiar. He was saying, “Let Me clothe you anew.”
Isaiah 61:10 came to mind: “He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness.” But before He clothes you, He must undress you. He must strip away your dependency on your title, your history, your appearance, your ministry accomplishments, even your pain and shame. God will not pour new wine into old wineskins (Mark 2:22). Nor will He place robes of righteousness over soiled garments.
I realize now that I had been holding onto some garments that were no longer mine. Garments of old assignments. Garments of past battles. Even garments of pain that had become familiar. But God was saying, “Let the tide take them.” I could not move into the next chapter dressed like the last. I had to stand naked in the presence of God, vulnerable, surrendered, and ready for divine re-clothing.
Then there’s the part of the dream where I hang the clothes to dry. That detail struck me. Why not just walk away from them completely? Because some things are not to be worn again—but they are to be remembered. There is a difference. God told the Israelites to remember their deliverance from Egypt—not to return there, but to recall what He had brought them out of. Hanging those clothes was my way of saying, “I have been there, but I am not that anymore.”
God doesn’t want you to forget your testimony. He wants you to frame it. Dry it. Display it as proof of His mercy. But never put it back on. Never wear what grace has removed.
This dream is not just for me. I believe it is a prophetic picture for many in the Body of Christ right now. There is a wave coming. A tide of renewal. And God is calling His people to the waters. Not shallow waters, but the deep. Deep cries out to deep (Psalm 42:7). And those who answer the call must be willing to lose what the tide takes. You cannot swim with God while clinging to your garments.
I feel the Lord saying: “I am calling My church to the waters of My Spirit. I am calling My ministers to be stripped of performance and pretension. I am calling My sons and daughters to bathe again—not in tradition, not in religion, but in My presence. And when I take your garments, do not mourn. Rejoice. For I am preparing new robes for a new era.”
I woke up from that dream with tears. Holy tears. Cleansing tears. It was as though even my sleep had been an altar. I don’t know what clothes you’ve been clinging to—whether it’s shame, pride, fear, titles, or past wounds. But I urge you, let the tide of God’s Spirit carry them away.
Don’t resist the bath. Don’t hide from the ocean. Walk in. Let Him undo you. Let Him wash you. Let Him redress you.
I believe this dream was a clarion call to all who want to move in power, purity, and prophetic clarity. Before the mantle, there must be a washing. Before the anointing, there must be a cleansing. Before the robe, there must be surrender.
The tide is coming.
Let it take what it must.
And when you walk out of that water, don’t run back to what you once wore.
Hang it up.
Let it dry.
Let it testify.
And walk on—in glory.
