Dream in Jerusalem, 1988

The dream was in Jerusalem, but had a futuristic twist, invoked that it was “New Jerusalem”.

Our family arrives in a beautiful city steeped in history where we intended to reside. But there is a great evil in this city, which pervades throughout. You can almost breath it in the air. This presence is a live force, silently converting all comers to its seductive will. The religious souvenir shops in the city act as small powerful centers, where the conversion process is commenced. All are subjugated. In touring the city we inevitably go to a great structure in the city’s center, which was correspondingly the center of its belief and religious history. It was also the source of all evil, the center of the insidious will. The family, or I alone came several times to this towering building which was revered by all the converts. It had the appearance of a church, cut in gilded stone in the gothic style. At present it served two purposes, it was a massive dining hall in the day, and in the evenings it served its true purpose; it became the site of mass congregational services. (Woe to us if we had encountered one of those services, I feel it would have been very frightening, like being in the presence of the Devil and opening oneself to discovery. I had a vision of the ceremony.) However, we came on this day to eat, (and soon lost our appetite). I said the city was steeped in history, of one religion, one building. As I wandered inside the stone surfaces faded, revealing the inside wholly decorated with the bones of innocent martyrs. Thus it had appeared for many centuries. It was founded on the blood of martyrs. They had been covered to make the place palatable to the more “enlightened” modern practitioners. But the truth was evil. Feeling oppressed we went outside, and sat on the cement where we ate our own lunch. I was sitting alone, and sensed the sun shining behind me, over my left shoulder. In my mind I could see it (without turning). It was very close, not light years away. I felt someone kneel behind me and was immediately enveloped in the care, strength and security of “Daddy’s love”. So I turned, fully expecting to see my father, and was faced with a stranger. He looked like a Palestinian Arab, a slight clean-cut man in a navy jacket and tan slacks. His hair was black and he had a moustache. I was taken aback, and as I had turned on him in complete familiarity I said, “Excuse me, Sir, but I thought you were my father.” I turned back, and the realization dawned, my lips curved into a smile, and I thought back, In fact, I think you are my Father. It was Jesus. We sat together, and then he went and spoke to my parents about the work still to be done.