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Greetings my brothers and sisters. May you all have peace this day as our Lord gives it.
On the morning of June 15, 2014, a Sunday morning, before I awoke, I had a dream. It concerned someone with whom I have worked with for a number of years.
In this dream, I dreamed that on the preceding Saturday afternoon before this dream, she got sick and quickly died that very afternoon. (As a result, in this dream I was disturbed by it, and afterward too.) The dream continued and shifted to a dark room with just a little bit of light. In this room was a rectangular table. I was sitting on one long end, two others on the left end, two others on the right end, and two others directly across from me. A little light was present so as to see the table and those seated at the table.
(There was no lamp or overhead light, yet just a little light was present. Now as I describe the scene it reminds me of a low-light situation like at an evening’s poker game in a darkened back room somewhere. No poker was involved. I’m just trying to describe it as best I can what I saw, but with no light source.) Anyway. . . .
I did not know who they were nor could I make out who they were. As I gazed around the table at them, I saw each of them clearly from their necks down. I saw their torsos and their clothing. But as for their faces, while I could see their heads, their faces were blurred out so that I could not identify who they were.
As I looked up at the two people directly in front of me I saw behind them a darkness, a complete blackness behind them—a pitch blackness behind them. However, in “looking” into that blackness behind them I saw, no, I “felt” behind them a kitchenette—I did not “see” it—I “felt” the presence of a kitchenette. A very small kitchenette—on the left side, a little stove, to its right directly behind the two in front of me a little sink, and to the right a small refrigerator.
While looking into the black void of that kitchenette—suddenly—appeared the woman with whom I have worked, the one who became sick and died the previous Saturday afternoon. For about a second and a half, certainly no more than two seconds at most, she appeared to me out of the darkness, in radiant bright light coming down from above. She herself was radiant, glowing within herself, and yet at the same time reflecting the light coming from above. It was a wonder to behold. (It was like the Bible writers describing the appearance of an angel.) She was looking up above where the light from above was coming from. In that moment, I knew exactly who she was/what she was.
I knew then that in that moment she was “right” with God. The vision in the dream ended and she disappeared from my sight. There the dream ended.
After I awoke that Sunday morning, I told my wife of this dream, as this dream bothered me. My wife said that perhaps the Master is trying to tell us that she is one of us. Well, okay.
However, the first part of the dream (where she got sick and died) really bothered me. All day Sunday whenever it was that I thought of this dream I was anxiety-ridden. I thought, “Have I just been told that she died yesterday?” Come Monday morning when I got to work and I saw her finally come in to work and walk down the hall, I was so extremely relieved that she was living. (Talk about me wiping the sweat from my brow.)
For days now I have been pondering, “What do I do with this dream? Do I have to do anything with it at all? If so, what?” My wife said, “Maybe you need to tell her of it.” Well, I’ve pondered that. AND, in the meantime, I’ve asked the Master if I need to do anything with it. Sure enough, I was instructed to tell her. Now you can only imagine what mental and heart gymnastics I’ve been going through with the thought of telling her this dream—especially the part about her dying in it.
So now, for the last 12 days I’ve conversed with my Lord about this (and yet trying to do a Jonah and get out of telling it to her—I admit it—mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa). The conversation I’ve had with my Lord and that I’ve had with myself are tiring, believe you me. All the reasons to tell her, all the reasons not to tell her, all the reasons to obey the Voice, all the reasons to disobey the Voice—I’m only human—and sinful at best.
Well, MORE THAN ANYTHING, I want to be obedient to my Lord. So I girded up my loins, real tight, and walked up to her at the photocopying machine this morning and asked her if she had a moment so that I could talk to her about something that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with work. She said, “Sure! Come on into my office.” We did so.
To make a not-so-long story shorter, I learned that she was a “lapsed Catholic,” definitely believes in Christ and God, believes that they communicate with us, believes that dreams do at times reveal messages from the spirit realm, etc. She listened attentively to me relating the dream to her. She got a little bit frightened about her getting sick and dying part and loved the glory part. She thanked me profusely for the courage to tell her this dream and was very grateful and pleased that I did. (I was relieved that she took it so well.) There were even a few moments in my telling her the dream that she did indeed tear up and almost began to cry. She certainly was feeling deep emotion in hearing this.
As for the getting sick and dying part of the dream, I told her what I “heard” repeatedly in the last few days was that it was not about her literal death but rather about her dying to something (I didn’t know what) and I told her what the Voice told me that she would know what it meant or that she would soon deduce what it meant and/or soon learn what that part meant. She was relieved and most grateful to hear about the glory part.
As I left her office she was thanking me over and over again for telling her this dream.
And that’s what happened this morning.
--Armand
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