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—absolutely filthy and in a rundown state that only comes about by hundreds of years of abuse, neglect and misuse.

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 that stuck out about six inches.  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  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 that overlooked the congregation below.

As we all know that, without any rhyme or reason, 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 glow and take 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 for a speaker to address the people. The nearest thing that might work was the upstairs balcony that overlooked 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, which made me feel a little uneasy.  All 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.

Well, that's my dream.  I know that it is a prophetic one and that the time is coming—and I suspect much sooner than we think.  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 congregation—He hasn't arrived yet.

Sylvia & I