(Endless nameless?)
Divine experiences, being internalized, hold greater sway than mundane experiences, especially those stimulated externally.
I had a dream once in which I talked to Jesus Christ in the tabernacle of St. Aloysius chapel at my high school. I also had a dream in which Satan, standing amid the ruins of the public high school in my hometown, promised me the world.
Neither knew what the fight was about. Jesus wanted it done and Satan wanted to win.
Do I believe these visions? To a certain degree. But I also hold that religion and faith are internalized processes, and that God is a creation of human beings. Thus, I would be foolish to ignore what my mind is trying present merely because the style was religious and reflective of my general daily surroundings.
In the end, the dream were very affecting, and contributed greatly to my choice to transcend the classic "Christian" debate (e.g. running to Satanism is not a breaking away, but a mere change in alignment within the same paradigm). Without those dreams I probably would not have entered my "atheist phase" when I did, and thus altered the period which came after--a period in which my education in the history and philosophy of religion has flourished. That process is why, even though I often sound rather quite atheistic, I maintain a baseline theism in acknowledgment to the necessity of communicating with the vast majority of humanity.
In the end, the dreams do have a specific, seemingly anti-Christian application: Are they real visions of divinity or mere creations of the mind? Either case, however, speaks poorly for the traditional Christian cause--either millions of Christians are paying inordinate attention to "the Devil", or all religious visions are an internal product. The latter option can be disarmed, but only by rendering the entire question moot through proof of the existence of God according to a very specific and counterintuitive--at least--theology.
I can tell you, though, that these are among the most affecting dreams/visions I've ever had. The full measure of their character is beyond calculation, but they got me (largely) off the back of Christ himself, which allowed a perspective that has since prevented me from rejoining the caravans wandering aimlessly amid the shadows of the Valley of Death.
The meanings of such intense experiences are often hard to relate, and often slow in developing.
Rather than "rejecting the irrational," it may be of some value to embrace it, and seek its rational core. In doing so, we might be able to help our friends and neighbors understand such elements of conscience and psyche instead of depending inappropriately on them.
Credibility rests entirely in the nature of the claim made, the impact it has on the actions of the claimant, and the transition from belief to action.
Comparative examples:
• Once upon a time, a televangelist interviewed a fellow preacher. The guest described his born-again conversion, that after sin had stolen his son away from him, he was riding the bus downtown, and when he got off the bus, he encountered the spirit of his son on the streetcorner; the son was happy and in the bosom of God, and so the anguish-ridden man became a preacher of the miracle of his own heart. The general purpose of this story seemed to win converts and invite financial contributions.
• A scoundrel sustained a severe leg wound and awoke in the care of nuns. Left in a room with only a crucifix, a religious testimony (variously the Bible or a hagiographic testimony), and a festering leg wound, the scoundrel in his fever had visions of God, and thereafter devoted his life to the Gospels, eventually being canonized as a Saint.
I've been visited by dead friends and dead cats. I've been visited by Jesus and Satan. I've had my pocket picked by a goddamn ghost amid a frantic ghostly siege that left reality bent and wrecked for hours.
Or ....
I've had dreams in which my mind has signaled the terms of reconciliation to certain facts of reality--the deaths of friends, the loss of a particularly-beloved cat, &c. I've had dreams in which my psychological resolutions were phrased in the terms of my environment (religious visions while attending a Jesuit high school). I forgot to button closed the pocket on my denim jacket before scaring the hell out of myself in the middle of a field and dropping my keys as my friends and I bolted. (Really, the look on J's face when I came up blank for the keys would have been priceless had I not been wondering both to myself and everyone within shouting range how the hell the moon changed its position in the sky so dramatically. Of course, I would imagine the look on my own face could have provided a few laughs.)
Point being--there's nothing about any one of those stories that doesn't originate internally. What they actually mean is no more definitive at any given time than what you think love is when getting laid for the first time. As time passes, the superficial will wear away, and there will either be something substantial within--a hidden treasure, generally--or nothing at all.
Openly challenging another's belief in such a case often has a counterproductive effect. Attacking the credibility of the experience encourages by proxy the abandonment of the treasure hunt in favor of defending the integrity of the experience's asserted reality.
Prescribed remedy: Shift focus to the meaning of the issue and be patient. Ten years down the line, one might come to regard the meaning of their divine experiences differently. And that later product might prove to be the more useful, accessible, applicable, and therefore valuable result.
