The Sword and the Shield

 

The Sword and the Shield.

February 2, 2011 – An Allegory

II Samuel 22:31: “As for God, His way is perfect; The word of the LORD is proven; He is a shield to all who trust in Him.”

 

Luke 2: 34-36: “Then Simeon blessed them, and said to Mary His mother, “Behold, this Child is destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign which will be spoken against ³⁵ (yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

This is a dream that I had back when I was 15 years old.  It was in the late spring of 1980 and I hadn't yet turned 16.  It was posted on the "Michaelsguardian" blogspot blog on February 2, 2011.  Google took down that blog and 12 years of work in December of 2021, so I am reposting the dreams I had here.

A Message for Grandpop 

 

She rests on her bed, face to the wall but she cannot sleep.  No thoughts in particular fill her head.  It’s just a restless night.  She wonders if she should have taken the weekend at home instead of staying at the boarding school.

 

Curious shadows draw her attention to the wall in front of her eyes.  There are two distinct shapes on the wall, long and rather sharp.  They don’t move but seem to become sharper in focus.  Her brows drew together in confusion.  This shouldn’t be.

 

She sat up and turned toward the closed dorm room door.  There was light from the hallway coming from under the door, but nothing she could see between that source of light that would form these shadows.  She turned back toward the wall.

 

The Shadows were now distinct, with sharp lines between the shadow and the light on the wall.  She moves her hand around in the air in circles, but no shadow of her arm appears on the wall.  It is then she discovers that the source of light throwing the shadow is coming from beyond the wall.  She pulls her arm down sharply.

 

The shadows were not ON the wall, they were IN FRONT of the wall. The light was coming from WITHIN the wall.

 

She sat strait up in bed, eyes wide.  The shadows were now solid forms, becoming three dimensional.   Oddly she was more in wonder of the phenomenon then she was afraid.

 

She reached out to touch the taller, thinner shadow in front of her, but the shadows again began to change. The light beyond the wall became more intense, illuminating what the shadows actually were.

 

As the images began to take on features and contours, She recognized the objects that used to be shadows.  One shadow became a very large sword, shiny, standing forward to the object to her left and back slightly. That second object was a heavy, incredibly beautiful, heavy shield.

 

With her mouth and eyes wide open, she marveled at the beautiful objects.  She this time reached out to touch the shield and the objects again began to change, slowly forming into two suits of armor.  The one that used to be the shield was slightly taller than the other.

 

When their form was complete, the girl stood from a sitting position, feeling the bed against the back of her knees.  The man in armor who used to be the shield lifted his face piece and began speaking to her.  She could see dark hair curl from under the helmet and heavy brows framing dark eyes.  The light growing bolder beyond the wall made turning on a light unnecessary.  The “shield” man began speaking to her, but it was in a language she did not recognize.  She shook her had no politely to try and tell him she did not understand.

 

The one who was the “sword” put his hand up to silence the “shield”.  She watched all this in wonder, slowly recognizing just who it was who came to see her.  She didn’t see him, because when the “sword” lifted his face piece to talk to her, he was still concealed from her.  But she knew who he was.

 

He asked her, “Do you know why I come?”

 

She shook her head no.  He then asked her, “Why do you cry?”  But she knew that he knew.

 

She bowed her head, barely able to speak through the emotion.  She didn’t know until then that she HAD been crying.  She finally spoke, “How do I know?”

 

She couldn’t see him smile but she felt it.  He asked her, “Why do you doubt?”

 

She replied, “I was young when I asked you to save me.  I wasn’t sure I even knew what that meant.”

 

He answered, “You came to me as a child.  You trusted as a child.” 

 

She looked up and asked, “but how do I know for sure?  How do I know my name is in the Book of Life?”

 

She felt him smile again.  He replied, “Because it is written.  You look in that book every day.  If you see it and believe it what more assurance do you need?”  His tone of voice was one of amusement – as one who would entertain the numerous “why’s” from a five year old, with incredible kindness.

 

Jesus placed a card in her hand.  It was on material she had never felt before.  It was gold and glittery, padded and pliable but firm.  Her name was embossed on the card.  She looked up at him and smiled through her tears.

 

“Do you know why I come?”  He asked.

 

“Because I doubt?”  She asked.

 

He replied, “I need you to do something for me.”

 

Her heart grew three sizes.  Jesus was giving her a task.  A warm contentment flooded and overwhelmed her to the point that tears again fell over her cheeks.

 

“I want you to tell your grandfather that you saw me.”

 

Her face slowly fell.  Thoughts swirled . . . Why?  Was her grandfather going to die?  Did he not believe in God?  Her grandfather was the one staple of stability in her life.  Surely he believed in God!

 

“But, he won’t believe me.” she replied back to Christ.

 

“You must tell your grandfather that you saw me . . .” and Jesus and his “shield” partner began to slowly fade to the point they were see through, then disappeared.

 

She awoke the next morning, which was a Saturday.  Even though she had not signed to go home that weekend, she called her stepfather on the payphone to tell him she was coming.  “Do you want me to pick you up?”  “No”, she said, “I will walk”.

 

Outside the building she hesitated.  She could either take the shortcut across the field to her left, or follow the long, narrow path through the woods that ran along the embankment of the highway.  She just had to tell her grandfather, so she opted for the short cut.

 

She broke the border trees lining the property of the school and into the field.  She walked on until she crested a little knoll and saw the abandoned barn in the distance.  She groaned.  She hated that barn.  She always heard noises in there.  Whenever she walked past and had a bad feeling about it.

 

As she approached the barn,  she slowed, then stopped.  She heard noises.  This time it was noises of kids.

 

She dropped her bookbag to the ground and entered the barn.  The barn was empty, dusty, and the chaff and dust were highlighted by streams of sunlight coming in through the cracks between the boards of the barn walls.  She climbed the ladder.  The sound must have been coming from the loft.

 

As her eyes crested the edge of the loft floor, she could hear the panicked wings of a morning dove flying off to safety.  There was nothing else up there.  The floor was strewn with old straw, dust and a few bales of hay here and there, but nothing else.  She climbed up onto the loft floor.

 

She looked around and up at the pitch of the roof.  She then noticed five or six bales of hay in a semi-circle near the front window of the loft, as if people had gathered for campfire stories.  But as she approached, what she saw made her want to leave.

 

In the center of the semi-circle of hay bales was a pile of opened and scattered girlie magazines and a couple of empty liquor bottles.  She let out a sigh and one word escaped her lips –

 

“Boys…”

 

She heard a noise outside that startled her.  It sounded slightly familiar. She ran to the loft window but stayed back in the shadows.  Then she heard the beeping horn.  With a wash of relief she saw her step-father’s Ford Pinto pulled up just outside the barn.

 

She hurried down the ladder, scooped up her book bag and hopped into the car.  “How did you know I was here?” 

 

He replied, “I came to pick you up anyway.  I know sometimes you come this way and I saw your book bag.”

 

She was thankful.  She did not tell her stepfather what she saw in the barn.

 

Her grandfather came to visit them and She did what she was told to do.  She looked her grandfather square in the eye and told him, “Jesus told me to tell you I saw him.”

 

He looked at her blankly for a minute, then kind of chuckled.  “What do you mean?”

 

She became less sure, “I saw Jesus in school and he told me to tell you I saw him.”

 

With a look of amusement on his face, he asked her, “Were you sleeping?”

 

With a steady voice she replied “No. I was awake.”  Her grandfather countered, “Were you in bed?”

 

She answered, slightly irritated, “Yes, but I was awake.”  And as sure as she told Jesus the night before, her grandfather dressed her down about  the difference between dreams and reality.  Sulking, she walked away.

Back at school that week, she had one surge of panic when she began looking for the golden card that Jesus had given her.  She ripped the covers off her bed, the sheets, pulled out all the drawers in her dresser and night table and could not find it.  She sat on the floor and cried.  Maybe it was a dream.

 

That Friday, she signed out to go home.  She wanted to walk it.  This time, she took that straight and narrow path through the woods, up on the ridge along the highway.  It took longer to get home, but at least she didn’t have to pass that horrible barn.

 

She realized as she took the path a ways, that leaving after classes on Friday left her at a disadvantage.  It still got dark early and if she had waited until Saturday, she could have left early.  She stopped and looked toward highway down on her right.  Then to her left.  If she cut through the woods to that field, instead of going all the way back, she could still get home before sun down.

 

After a second’s hesitation, she left the path and veered left into the woods.  She ran to try to save some time. 

As she ran the underbrush seemed to be getting thicker.  That wasn’t making any sense!  She was heading back toward the school property which bordered that field.  The woods should be getting thinner, not thicker!

 

  She looked at where the sun was in the sky, toward the west, and she ran toward it.  The sun was getting low.  She stopped again.  She looked and couldn’t even see a clearing. 

 

She could feel panic building up.  The sun was getting even lower and she was now lost in the woods.  She had a horrible week at school, her grandfather didn’t listen to her and of all sins, she lost that beautiful card that Jesus had given her, causing her to doubt all of it was even real.

 

Frustrated, she began to cry.  As she began to pray, suddenly a distortion of the trees in front of her occurred.  At first she thought it was just her tears, so she rubbed her eyes.  It was almost as if there was a mirage forming in front of her giving the outlines of the tree trunks an almost liquid look.

 

The distortion took on a pearly-grey look, then solidified and two distinct but familiar shapes began to form, deepen then solidify.

 

The quickly changed from their symbols of the sword and shield to their armor personas.  This time the “shield” was quiet, but took off his helmet.  Jesus only lifted the face piece to speak.

 

“Why are you crying?”  (same as before).

 

She cried, “I’m lost.  I left the path to find the short cut so I could get home before dark and now I can’t even get back to the path.”

 

Jesus said, “listen”

 

She did.  Very faintly, she heard the sounds of the highway.  She looked toward the sound, knowing the path was within eye sight of the highway.  She turned back to Jesus who told her, “Stay on the straight and narrow path. Leaving the path for short cuts will only serve to divert you from your destiny.”

 

She remembered the verse Matthew 7:13: ¹³ “Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.”

 

Jesus asked her, “did you tell your grandfather that you saw me?”  She bowed her head and answered, “yes.  He did not believe me.  And I could not find the golden card you gave me.  The one proving I was in the Book of Life…”

 

Jesus replied, “It is in your Bible.  It has always been in your Bible.  You must tell him you saw me.  Tell him with faith.”  And he slowly faded away.  She found her feet back on the path she lost and she followed it home.

 

Back at school the following week, she was against disheartened.  For the second time, her grandfather did not believe her.  However, when she got back to school on Monday, she checked her Bible and sure enough, there was the golden card sticking out of it.  She excitedly opened up her Bible to touch it and as she opened it up, the card disintegrated into golden dust and dissolved in front of her eyes.

 

The last line of “gold dust” that faded was lined up under the verse of John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”

 

The Book of Life that God gave us was the Bible, she thought to herself.  Our proof, and our assurance is in there.

 

At the end of the school year, she was helping the librarian pack up books to make room for the new ones coming in for the fall semester.  She did this as she waited for her family to pick her and her belongings up.  One of the secretaries came up to tell her they were waiting in the lobby.

 

As she took her last small box of books up to the storage, a familiar silhouette formed in front of her on the stairs.  No one else was around.

 

This time he was in a white robe, no armor.  He had the eyes that drew your soul to him.  He asked her, “Did you tell your grandfather that you saw me?”

 

“I did.  He still did not believe me.”  She said solemnly.

 

As Christ faded, she felt a hand on her shoulder.  She turned and walked down the steps to the second floor hallway, then from there to the main stair case and down into the lobby.

 

She could still feel the hand on her shoulder.  She spied her family sitting on the lobby sofas, with their backs to her, facing the main reception counter.  She walked around and stood facing them, right in front of her grandfather.

 

Her mother, step-father, brother and grandparents were there, her sister was not.

 

“Grandpop”, she said looking him directly in the eye, feeling peaceful.

 

He looked up without answering. She said to him, “Jesus told me to tell you that I saw him.”

 

His face began to crumble in contest and agitation.  She felt the comforting hand leave her shoulder, but she envisioned Jesus walking over to her grandfather and placing his had on her grandfather’s shoulder.

 

Suddenly, her grandfather sat upright.  A parade of expressions crossed his face; shock, bewilderment, confusion, acceptance, recognition, then peace.  A slight smile softened his face,

 

“Bonnie, I believe you . . .”

 

This is a dream I had when I was fifteen years old.  My grandfather, true to this dream never believed me the numerous times that I told him about the dream.  It was a little over this time last year that I told him for the last time, Jesus told me to tell him that I saw him. 

 

He was in a hospital bed and could not speak.  We were in such bad shape financially I could not even afford to go down and see him but somehow, someone in our church found out and the deacons came up with the money to get me down there one last time.

 

That was the same weekend that my husband’s mom gave me the “Man in the Mirror” picture book of Michael when I stopped in to visit on my trip down.

 

That’s the same weekend that he watched me from the front seat of my car on an eleven hour trip.  And the same weekend that on the way back home that Sunday, after pulling out of the rest stop in Mount. Jackson, Virginia, with “Man in the Mirror” playing on the radio, that my grandfather passed away.  I found out when I got home what time he had passed and I had checked the time on the clock because it was at that time when I called my husband to let him know how far I was from home.

 

Before I left him that Saturday, I had waiting for mom to leave the room to talk to the nurse.   Leaned over to my grandfather, who had really been my father most of my life.  I leaned to his ear and whispered, “Grandpop, I know I told you this many times before throughout my life and you always gave me a hard time.  Jesus told me to tell you I saw him  . . . This time when he puts his hand on your shoulder, just say yes . . .” 

Revelation 17:8
The beast that you saw was, and is not, and will ascend out of the bottomless pit and go to perdition. And those who dwell on the earth will marvel, whose names are not written in the Book of Life from the foundation of the world, when they see the beast that was, and is not, and yet is.

 

 

 

 

http://michaelsguardian.blogspot.com/2011/02/allegory-sword-and-shield.html

An Overview of Signs

 

An Overview of Signs 2009 to Present

January 3, 2011 –

 

 

 

 

Daniel 12:1 – “At that time Michael shall stand up,
      The great prince who stands watch over the sons of your people;
      And there shall be a time of trouble, Such as never was since there was a nation, Even to that time.   And at that time your people shall be delivered, Every one who is found written in the book.”

 

 

 

I have been delayed in getting the blog finished for tonight so I will have to substitute something else that I had prepared and maybe this was one of those Divine occurrences which was meant to happen for a reason.

 

SandyK, one of the people who have commented frequently on this blog, once asked me to post my dream about Jesus.  The problem is I have had more than one.  I think now would be a good time to get into some of these dreams.

 

I have a whole file of dreams I have had written down since I was in the single digits in age.  Quite a few of them made no sense until now.  I’m almost afraid to post them (Michael said in a dream to me . . . “What are you afraid of?”)

 

I want to post these tonight. These are the dreams I had between January 2009 and today, that I wrote down.  Some I did not know what they meant.  I wanted to work backward from present day.  I will post the dreams with Christ in them tomorrow, but they will be in parts.  The reason is because they were so full of detail and symbolism I don’t want to leave anything out or shorten it.  I will have to devote entire blog entries to them.

 

Most of the dreams I have had since childhood, were about battles between good and evil.  I started writing down the ones I remembered when I was in my early teens. Those dreams have migrated from spiral notebooks to typewritten pages, to computers and from hard drive to hard drive.

 

There is still much to cover on Michael and the vultures around him, but I am learning that the dreams were also layers of something that I was to pay attention to.  Some of them seemed to make no sense at all, until just this past year as things unfolded.  Funny what becomes important that previously seemed insignificant.

 

Working from present day back, these are the dreams that have had obvious connections or hooks to what was to come.

 

 

Dream on May 4, 2010 - What are you Afraid of?

 

I was sitting on a rock, up on the top of a hill with sparse vegetation.  It reminded me of the type of terrain in the foothills of southern California, with rather sandy dirt, scrub oak, desert type grasses and a tree here and there.  It was early morning, judging by the low angle of the orange sun against the horizon, and the damp coolness in the air from still falling dew. 

 

I sat with knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them and my head down.  I hear someone walking toward me with a sound that reminded me of the sound of walking on gravel.  The feet stop in front of me with a granular sounding shuffle.  I look up and it's Michael. 

 

I couldn't see his face because of the glare of the sun, but his hand motioned to me, like he wanted me to stand and come to him.  I stood up and just looked at him.  He looked healthy, like he did in 2002 - 2003, but his face, eyes and lips looked more recent, more aged, like his 52 years, but not as thin as in TII.  He walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulders and we began walking.

 

We walked together a couple of minutes silently.  My stomach was in knots and I couldn't talk to him.  Finally he squeezed me closer to him as we were walking.  He said to me, "What are you afraid of?" 

 

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at him with my jaw open.  His arm was still around me and he was close and I could feel the warmth on the back of my shoulders.  Up close his eyes looked lighter and wider.  I could see his pores and the scars on the sides of his nostrils and I could see a dark patch of skin just under his nose and on part of the side of one nostril.   I was surprised that he knew what it was that held me back.

 

He said to me again, "What are you afraid of?”  When I didn’t answer right away, he then asked, “What are you waiting for?"  I looked down and when I looked back up, he was gone. 

 

I woke up and could still feel his arm there or the pressure from it. 

 

(This dream I have covered in a previous blog, where I believe what I was afraid of was the sharing of my gifts from back since I was a child.  It wasn’t that I was afraid of singing or drawing or writing for people.  I was afraid of sharing my heart and who I was.  I grew up with many fears as a child and had closed myself off at a young age and I believe this is what that dream was about.  I believe Michael was in the dream because he reconnected me to who it was God made me, and why it was he created me.  Those gifts I believed were my shelter when I was a child were not meant to be forgotten once I “grew up.”)

 

 

March 15, 2010 - Deer Departed

I was in my basement office. Something prompts me to leave my computer to go upstairs. I walk to the stairs and there is this completely torn apart deer on the steps. It was a young deer. There was a leg here, a tail there, part of a hip on another step and even a face of a deer, like a mask with eye holes, but it was the face of a deer. I stared at this massacred deer, wondering what happened and how it got there.

Horrified, I climb the steps over this torn apart deer. I'm suddenly uncomfortable staying in the basement. I step over each part and grimace. The face of the deer, like a discarded mask with the eye holes made me hesitate before I continued.

I open the door to the first floor and enter the dining/living area. There waiting for me are two adult deer, one male, one female . . . and eight younger deer. They are all looking at me and they are all gathering around me. I could see fear and anger in their eyes. The tension in the air was electric.

I back against the wall. They look angry, but not at me. Something tore apart the one on the steps but they know it wasn't me. I can feel their urgency.

I slide along the wall toward the front door. I don't know what they want from me. They are looking at me, snorting at me, trying to talk to me. Their little lips are moving as if trying to say something, but they know I can’t understand them.

I get to the front door and they are moving in on me. I'm thinking they want to escape so I open the front door and hold it open for them, staying against the wall.

They don't move. They just look at me. The father moves toward me and keeps ducking his head, moving his lips as if trying to speak.

Finally, I go out the front door, hoping to draw them outside. They follow. But they don't leave. They are looking at me, their lips curling as if they are trying to tell me something.

I look at them, helpless. Now I'm afraid. The father comes toward me with his head bowed, and pushes his antler into my hip, trying to push me away from the door. He wants me to go somewhere.

Afraid of what he wants me to do, I finally slip back toward the front door, run inside real quick and shut the door.

I wake up.

 

(This dream I have also covered before in previous blog update)  This dream is not too hard to interpret.  Michael is torn apart by the press, media and those that wanted to destroy him and his message.  His family wants help from the fans, from someone.  Again, my fear of the unknown prompts me to run inside the door and close it on them.  It is horrifying to me that I would ever do any such thing and I am still trying to determine what exactly it is I am afraid of that would keep me from helping Michael.)

 

December 7^th, 2009 – I’m Still Alive

I have never posted this dream for obvious reasons.  It was upsetting and I was in hysterics when I woke up from it.  There was no storyline in the dream, only a vision.

 

I was laying on a bed with very little clothing on.  I could move nothing except my eyes to look around.  I could not move my head, my arms or legs, my mouth to speak . . . nothing except my eyes.

 

I was ice cold.  I wanted to be warm but I was so cold  that I was beyond shivering.  I could move my eyes downward and see my feet. They were whiter than white. The toenails looked almost blue.  My legs were bare up to about mid-thigh where a small gown was on me.  I could look to the left side of me and see a tall, silver pole with tubing coming down from it, but I could not see where the tubing led.  It was out of my range of vision.  I looked to my right and saw the rest of the bed, a nightstand with a lamp on it and across the room, window.  Beyond the foot of the bed, I could see a dresser with a mirror that was center right of the bed.  I could sense that the door to the room was somewhere to my left but the corner of a wall was blocking the vision of that part of the bedroom.

 

I wanted to call out to tell them I was alive, but I couldn’t make a sound.  I couldn’t move my mouth.  I was very, very cold. The bed was cold. There was nothing on the bed but a sheet covering the mattress on which I lay, but not covers on me.

 

I wanted to tell someone I was alive, but no one was in the room.  All I could remember when I woke up was how cold I was.

 

(This dream upset me because all I could think about was Michael laying on a bed in a room somewhere, wanting to tell people he was still alive but unable to move.  I never remember feeling so cold in my life.)

 

Jewish Counselors – 9-30-2009

I was talking to two Jewish gentlemen about the state of affairs in the U.S. with the imploding economy, joblessness and what looks like our current government’s willingness to turn toward socialism to try to head off another depression.

One of them replied, “I don’t think it’s going to get much worse before it gets better.  Christ’s coming is close, but you will see a period of renewed prosperity before he returns.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.  “The housing market is dead, my husband lost his job so we’re resolved to just start a business.  I want to go into real estate, but . . . should I?  I mean, “  The other Jewish guy cut me off .

The one with the longer hair replied, “The U.S. is getting bad and the economy seems without hope, but things will turn around. The U.S. will not be destroyed before his coming.  There won’t be time for the U.S. to become a socialist government.”

“Don’t stop doing what you are doing, because that is what you are supposed to do.  You keep doing what you are doing.  Know and keep your eyes open for what is coming, but don’t lose heart just because of the symptoms.  The symptoms are actually helping fight the disease.  There is still work he has for you to do.  You will be right where God wants you to be when he returns.”

The other Jewish guy added, “There are a lot of things going on in Israel right now that bear watching.  Things that the rest of the world isn’t paying attention to and may be insignificant to them.  Little by little, there are Jewish people that are coming around to know Him.  Our numbers are almost complete.  The temple still has to be rebuilt, the neighbor from the north who now tolerates us will become hostile and band with our enemies.  These things are taking shape but haven’t happened yet.  So you still have time.”

I said to him, “People of your faith seem to be so much more on top of the prophesies, even though your book is the old testament.  I don’t know why we don’t pay more attention to each other.  It seems like the only thing we disagree on is that the Jewish don’t believe that Jesus is the son of God.”

They both smiled at me, and the one with the shorter hair replied, “But many of us do . . .”

That’s when I woke up.

(This dream gave me goose bumps that still make an appearance whenever I revisit this dream.  My husband and I were supposed to go to Israel on a missions trip with our church, but we were bumped at the last minute because of our relocation south.   It was the trip of a lifetime and we will never have another opportunity to walk where Jesus walked, but this dream is significant in telling me how close we are and how important it is for people to pay attention to what is going on in the world.)

 

 

The Gifts -  9/28/2009

I was in a lady’s house.  A lady from church.  My sister and my brother were also in there but we were children, not the ages we are now.  It was Christmas time and the house was beautiful. The Christmas tree was beautiful and big.  It was next to a large window dressed with lace and some gauzy material.  We were all taking pictures of each other and this lady gave my sister and brother a present.  Both were some type of mechanical animal that did things.  One was a cat that arches it’s back and meowed on a platform.  The other gift was a dog that flipped and did tricks and barked.

Then the lady pointed to a present and looked at me.  I shook my head no, with a smile on my face, because I didn’t think I deserved a present.  I wasn’t expecting one and I didn’t want her to THINK I was expecting one.   She took one out of this clear, see-through plastic bag and handed it to me.

The present was a round box much like one of those old fashioned hat boxes . . . only smaller and deeper.  It was wrapped with a beautiful red silky material with gold and silver, glittery piping on it.  A ribbon joined the stripes at the top of the same color.  The lid of the box came off easily and I reached in.  I pulled out a small, stuffed dog with a red collar and a gold chain that was attached to something else in the box.  I pulled out a slightly larger dog, this one a different color, with a silver collar and gold chain attached to yet a third, larger dog still.  He was a black and silver German Sheppard with his tongue hanging out, almost smiling.

I held the dogs up stretched out on their chains, so they were all level, and I inspected them.  They were beautiful.  Three dogs, for the Son, Father and Holy Spirit.  I hugged them tightly to me. 

Then I heard a voice tell me “Now that your gifts are out of the box, you need to take the chains off of them so I can put them to work.

(I know what this dream was about and it ties in with Michael asking me what I was afraid of.   God had given me these gifts, I had them chained up from the time I was a child (kept them close to me, not shared them) and then put them away as I grew up, forgetting about them.)

 

My First Dream of Michael - August 16^th, 2009

First part:  Michael and I are sitting on a sofa in someone’s huge living room.  He is talking to someone on a sofa across the room so he is turned away from me.  I am looking at the back of his head.  Our shoulders and hips are touching.  He’s wearing a white shirt with long leaves and black pants.  I’m listening to him talk about some song he heard another artist do, but I’m not really listening.  I’m looking at the huge dining room beyond the other sofa, but I feel the warmth of his shoulder through his shirt.

I take notice of the living room, the windows, the two steps up into the dining room (it is a sunken living room) and the large window at the far end of the dining room.  Michael is paying no attention to me.  He is animated but speaking softly to the other person.  The sofa we sit on only has two cushions and I am aware of how soft the cushions are and the fact that there is no place for me to go to give Michael some room, so I get bumped occasionally by an elbow or the top of his arm.

The dream switches to a wrestling match.  I am hovering above a wrestling match filming on one of those mechanical camera rigs.  (I have never done this in my life).  In the wrestling ring is this kid, dressed like Michael in the red Thriller outfit.  He is singing, “Got to be Startin Something” but he’s replacing the words with “You know you got to be wrestling, you know you want to be wrestling.”  The kid is good and sounds like Michael, but doesn’t move like Michael. 

 

Michael is OUTSIDE the ring, but I can only see him if I look through the viewer on the camera.  No one else can see or hear him.  When I pull my face away from the camera, I cannot see or hear him.  I can only view and hear him when looking through the viewer on the camera.  Michael is calling to the kid, coaching him, but he’s invisible.  No one knows he’s there but me, who is filming this whole thing.  Michael is yelling to the kid, “Dance!  Move!  Do SOMETHING!”  And he’s pacing back and forth outside the ring trying to get this kid to move.  I woke up laughing.

(I gave up.  I have NO IDEA what this means other than Michael was alive and few people knew it.  The scene on the couch? Again, no clue other than maybe it was God’s way of telling me not to sit near Michael when he is talking about music because he will forget about you being there and will bruise you if you are too close while he is gesturing.)

 

Dying Chesapeake - 8/20/2009

I am downstairs in a two story house.  I am aware that there has been a pervasive smell over the last couple of days, but no one knows what it is.  It’s not coming from in the house.  You can smell it outside and everywhere you go.  It seems to be getting worse.

Richard calls me from upstairs.  He’s been sick.  For some reason he is back to being between 12 and 14 years old.  I go upstairs and his room is cold.  He has only a sheet on him, so I get blankets and bundle him up.

As I do so, he points at the television, which is the only light in his dark room.  He says, “The Chesapeake is filled with dead fish.”

I look over toward the T.V. screen.  An aerial shot of the Chesapeake bay from the news helicopter is showing.  They are panning up and down near the coast.  From the shoreline, out to about a quarter mile, you could see nothing but floating, dead fish as far up and down the coast as the camera could pan.  I watched with my mouth hung open. That is where the smell was coming from!

“That’s 40 miles of dead meat!” Rich said in disbelief.

“That’s 40 miles of dead fish.” I said, half in shock.  The fish were washing in from the ocean.  That’s when I woke up.

(Oddly enough, my son Rich was a child in this dream, even though he was days away from his 23^rd birthday when I had this dream.  I guess I will always see him as a child because of his Aspergers, and he will always have that element of innocence about him because of that, but I also noticed that this was before the BP oil rig explosion in the gulf and even though we didn’t have the dying fish in the Chesapeake because of that, the scenes from biblical prophecy did not escape me).

Guardian Dog -  July 20^th, 2009

Watching from a second story window, my neighbor’s big dog gets loose and goes after a smaller, white dog, which looks like a shepherd.  But a grey sable shepherd comes running out of nowhere and rams into the chest of the bigger dog, as if protecting the white dog.

The bigger dog is knocked backward and shakes his head, as if he doesn’t know what hit him.  He again makes after the white dog and the grey shepherd again rams into the bigger dog’s chest, knocking him backward.  The bigger dog gets frustrated, but never attacks the shepherd.  This goes on several more times until the bigger dog gives up and turns to trot home.

Cut to a frozen pond or lake with about a three foot broken hole in the ice.  Right below the surface, you can see a little girls face and hair.  Her eyes are open and you can hear her singing as she sinks below the surface. 

I wake up.

(The first part of this dream could be anyone, but considering what was going on at the time, I picture the big, attacking dog as Sony, the smaller, white dog as Michael and the larger, sable dog as the entity that is protecting him.  The attacking dog knows it cannot handle the big guardian dog, but continues to try different angles to get at the white dog {Michael}.  The little girl sinking below the surface of a frozen pond I have no clue.  It was kind of stuck at the end of this dream and Included it because I had it for a reason I have yet to determine. Could this have been metaphorically about Michael?  I had this dream before June of 2009)

 

Drowning Woman  -  Feb. 19^th 2009

I am standing on a boat with two other people.  One man and one woman.  Then there was me, but no one else saw me or knew I was there.  I was just the spectator.  The witness for lack of a better word.

The man was middle aged and balding, with salt and pepper hair, what was left of it.  He had a trim beard and mustache of the same mix of salt and pepper.  He was stocky.  A typical middle-aged-Italian build.  She was probably in her late thirties to early forties.  It was harder to tell her age because she wasn’t showing her age yet.  She was a bit trimmer than he, with short, curly brown hair, dark eyes with heavy lashes and brows.  She was wearing no makeup.  She stood maybe five-foot  six or seven.   She had a sallow but clear complexion.  It was cold.  Not your typical boating weather.  Both the man and woman were wearing down vests over flannel long sleeve shirts.  She was in all blue.  He was in a black vest with a brown shirt.  Both of them wore jeans and sneakers.

As I was watching them, he had both arms around her upper body, pinning her arms to her.  I noticed that she was swaying on her feet.  She had a wound on her forehead, but didn’t see where or how she got it.  It was bleeding and it looked pretty serious.  She began swaying toward the water and he was trying to keep her from going over.

“It’s getting dark, it’s getting dark”, the woman was saying, looking around like she couldn’t see that well.  He was almost squeezing her, telling her to hold on.  His face held fear in it

“It’s getting dark . . . .”  she said looking into space.  “I can’t see anything . . .” One arm escaped the man’s embrace as she brought it to her wounded head.   She hesitated a little looking around, her eyes getting droopy, then she said, “It’s awful dry up top . . . . .” then her eyelids dropped and she leaned toward the edge of the boat.  The man desperately fought to keep her from going over, but they both went over.

Suddenly I was the one under her sinking body in the water.  I couldn’t get her off of me!  I couldn’t breathe and I was going down with her.  I realized I was not going to save her like this.  As I sank with her, I knew she was going to survive, but I had to get out of the water.  I felt like telling the man, “get up, get up!  She’s going to be rescued!  She will be pronounced dead, and they will bring her back to life, but you have to get up now!”  But I was him.  I’m the one that had to get up.  I could see the stories in the paper.  It was winter, the water was cold.  She would be dead for 1 hour.  She would be resuscitated and it would be all over the papers that she came back to life.  Trust him!

Finally I thrust her off of me and kicked away from her body.  The cold water was soaking my clothes and making it hard for my muscles to move, but I did.  My head finally broke the surface just as I thought I would pass out from lack of oxygen.  I took the biggest inhale of my life . . . and that’s what woke me from this dream.

(This was a rather spooky dream. Does anyone know if a story in the press anywhere after that date above?  This also metaphorically could have been about Michael and the coming back to life aspect of it.  I had this dream before Michael even made the 02 press announcement just a couple of weeks later.  Another familiar element is the cold and the feeling of being cold.)

 

January 19^th, 2009 – Golden Nuggets -  The setting is sort of a medieval battle ground type setting . . . almost like live figures in a WarHammer  game.  We are searching through our gear for currency that we know we will need to buy more supplies.  I kneel to pray for help in this battle and on my way down to my knees I brush these yellow nuggets out of my way.  They keep spilling out of my saddle pack and out of my pockets.  I don’t know why we keep lugging them around.  Maybe because they are pretty, but I keep thinking that they are weighing us down.

Finally, I sit down on the ground.  These nuggets are all over the place.  I sit on the ground and they are under me.  They are digging into my buttocks.  I lean one way to brush them out from under me, then lean the other way to do the same.  I pick them up and scrutinize them.  I ask myself if they are worth all the trouble.

Then a voice comes to me from out of Heaven and answers the prayer.  The voice tells me, “You are sitting on gold and don’t even know it.”

I wake up . . . I write this down for obvious reasons

(I loved this dream.  Many people are “sitting on gold” and don’t even know it.  It may not be literal wealth or money, but a goldmine buried within your gifts or talents that God gave you. When you are doing what God put you here to do, he will provide.  No, I do not have any gold nuggets, neither here nor when I lived in Maryland OMG!!!!  Forget it!  I can’t tell you what I just thought about!  LOL!!!!  Oh man!! Spotlight, you HAVE  TO CALL ME!!!  Sorry everyone!  I will tell you later! ROFLMBO”)

January 13, 2009 – Cougars and Chickens

It was a cold, moonlit night with a good blanket of snow on the ground.  This was the kind of night that allowed you to see into the deep of the woods without the benefit of daylight.

We were driving along a pine needle covered road with nothing but woods around us.  The headlights were off.  We didn’t need them.  We were driving slowly because we were looking for something.  Whatever it was we were looking for, we didn’t want to alert them with headlights.

The animals had been acting weird but we didn’t know why.  I was sitting on the passenger side of the open cab vehicle.  My husband was driving.  Someone whom I couldn’t identify was sitting between us.

We could see shadows moving on the ground in front of the vehicle but I couldn’t make out immediately what they were.  It was surreal.  We were driving, we were quiet and we were looking for something in the woods on a moonlit, snow illuminated night.  Why?

I could see some of these shadows leaving the ground ahead of us, but they didn’t get far.  They would rise maybe four to five feet then come back down again.  There were soft sounds in the woods.  Some of the shadows were pretty close to the vehicle when they left the ground.  One was pretty close to my head and I got nervous.  After the second time, I thought whatever this was definitely wanted us out of there.

I said aloud, “Stop the truck.  Stop.  Something is coming at my head.”  So Ed stopped the truck.  I looked down and this black and white spotted rooster stood at the front passenger side wheel.  I could hear him cooing.  It almost sounded like a whine.  He flew up again and this time his wings brushed my hair.  Ed said, “It’s the chickens.  What are they doing out here?”

I said to Ed, “I don’t know but this one is getting awful aggressive.  You’re going to have to move this truck.”

Ed pulled forward a bit but the rooster flew up again, this time with more urgency.

“Turn on the headlights, Ed.”  He did.

Chickens crowded the road.  Some of them were smashed.  Another vehicle had been through here. 

We all got out of the truck.  I didn’t really want to.  Not with all those chicken bodies in the roadway.  The ones that were alive seemed to be walking around aimlessly.  The rooster that was flying up to attack us seemed to calm down a bit, but he was still cooing.  Now it sounded more like a tortured sigh.  As we walked over the smashed bodies . . . some of them with distinct tread marks on them, we wondered who had been back here.  Who did this?  And how did the chickens get out here in the first place?  The rooster seemed to be escorting us, showing us the damage.

As we walked, I thought of the desolate nature of this road.  It was a road that bordered the property and ran alongside the reservoir.   There were very tall, mature pines all through here.  No one came through here with vehicles, it was a nature trail.  Whoever came back here with a car or truck seemed to know the chickens were back here.  You could see the tire marks where they deliberately went off the road to do damage to the highest population of the chickens.

Ed bent over and said, “Look at this.  The feed is out there.  This is how they got the chickens out here.” 

I looked over at the still unidentified person.  I could almost see the eyes.  I could feel that they knew, or at least heavily suspected who was behind this.

I began walking away from them.  Standing amidst smashed chicken bodies in the middle of the night with white snow accentuating the carnage was just not making me feel cozy.  I moved to the peripheral and began looking around.  Ed and the yet identified person (who at this point I assumed was Lynne) began moving the feed out of the road.

Something large made a rustling sound just beyond the tree line.  I could see the hint of a shadow flitting between trees.  It was coming at me, but darted away again when I looked.

“There’s something big out here . . . we gotta go.” I said steadily and evenly.  They were still moving the feed.  It was obvious we weren’t going to get these chickens back before daylight.  Ed was moving the feed into the tree line so that whoever did this couldn’t come back and do more damage.

“Ed.” I shouted again.  “There is something big out here.  We have to go.  I’m not kidding.”

They both looked at me but kept moving the feed over.  The thing in the trees rushed me again.  Now I could see that it was a big dog or cat.  I yelled, “Hey!” and it darted back into the trees again.  When it did this some of the light from the truck caught it and I saw what it was.  It was a cougar.  This was not good.

“It’s a cat!”  I Yelled back, “A big one.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the two scrambling toward the truck, but I couldn’t take my eyes off this thing now.  It was too close.  I didn’t want to give it any advantage.  It would charge me, then dart back into the trees, at one time growling at me.   After about three or four times of this, It got too close for comfort and I got angry.  I wanted to get back to the truck and this thing was demanding all my attention.

This time it charged me from the side.  I spun around and lunged toward it, putting both arms up as if to pounce on it myself.  I let out a big roar and it made an immediate evasive move and darted back into trees.

At this point, Ed came running toward me.  He was carrying two rifles.  He handed one to me then went back toward the truck.  I guess he figured he could hit it from there if it decided to out flank me.  Good.  Two rifles were better than one.  That’s all we need.  Something else threatening these chickens.

The cougar came at me again, this time launching at me from a distance.  Not enough time for me to get the rifle up, but a shot rang out from Ed’s direction.  This caused the cougar to twist in mid air away from me and land, but it landed on one of the piles of debris from fallen trees.  Its leg got caught in the twisted twigs and branches and I ran up on it.

The cat twisted around looking at me, growling.  I pointed the rifle at it and shoved the barrel within four inches of its muzzle.

“Go ahead bitch . . . just give me a reason . . .” I said.

(I am SORRY for cursing but in this dream, I did curse).  I don’t know what the cougar represents but it is intent on attacking me and not the other two people in my dream.  The “friend” in this dream is actually someone that stole money from us so I changed her name in the dream.  She owned the chickens and we were trying to help her.  We at one time had our minister come out to talk to her but the rest is rather personal and involved her son, so I cannot mention it here.  I do not think this particular dream was connected to Michael in any way, but it did speak of the evil that surrounded this person we were trying to help.  Her child is one of the ones that remind me of Arvizos and Chandler . . . manipulated by adults and unfortunately, lost.)

 

That is the end of my dreams for this blog update.  This should drum up some interesting discussion.  I will post one of the ones about Christ tomorrow, and because of the urgency of the “other” post, there will probably be two updates tomorrow.

 

God love you and bless you