On June 12, 2018 I had one of those dreams that haunt you because you instinctively know they're important and, because they are, they stay with you even after you wake up.

 In this dream, in an out of the way location, I came upon an ancient, abandoned and what I presumed to be an old Catholic Church. It was huge and also obvious that at one time it had been beautiful and magnificent.  But now it was grungy, rundown and absolutely filthy—in a state that could only come about by hundreds of years of abuse and neglect.

Naturally, I wanted it.

How it came about I don't know, but in that dream it became mine to restore, which I immediately set about doing by cleaning, scrubbing and polishing and, in so doing, discovered many, many nooks and crannies.  In the process I found four or five Celtic crosses that appeared to have had the wall carved out from behind them so they were actually a part of the wall—and they were about six inches thick.  They weren't hung there, but a part of the wall itself.

This church had obviously been a thriving place that was loved and cared for, but now it was run down and shoddy because of misuse by those who had used it for their own purpose and self-aggrandizement.

The more I worked, scrubbing, cleaning and sanding, the more rooms and alcoves I discovered. There was also an upstairs overhang, like an interior balcony overlooking those below.

As we all know, anything can happen in a dream. Still, we dream it for a reason.  Well, this was a dream where many unexplained things took place and where time was of no consequence, so I don't know how long it took to restore it, but one day I realized it had begun to shine and had taken on a whole new life.  And then one day it began filling with people who were coming from all different directions.  Inside some were talking to each other, one on one, while others had gathered in small groups, talking, while still others were sitting in the pews as though waiting.

That's when I realized that there was no pulpit or dais for a speaker to address the people. The nearest thing that might work was the upstairs balcony overlooking those below. But, for some reason, although it would have worked, it just didn't feel right.

Nobody seemed to be prepared to address the congregation, even though there were priests and pastors from all denominations scattered throughout the church, including one I understood to be a Moslem cleric. Interestingly, that made me feel a little uneasy.  Then I realized that all—including the Moslem cleric—had come to worship God.

On that day many people had gathered to become part of the New Beginning; a place where the Spirit of the Living God resided; a place where the Spirit of God was more important than any ism, cult or religion.  It was the dawning of a new age.

Well, that's my dream.  I know that it is prophetic and that the time is soon coming.  I also understand that that church was metaphorical in nature and symbolizes a huge gathering of people. That's why there was no pulpit and no one ready to lead the people—He hasn't arrived yet.

Sylvia & I