Dreams of Reality:
Will this happen in the final days?
A few years ago, I had another vision, this time in a dream. This dream came to me twice a few months apart. The first was more terrible than the last. It was like no other dream. So I knew that it didn’t come from me. Was it prophecy or perhaps it was a reflection of today’s reality.
A tall man with red deceitful eyes came up to a group of my friends. He talked with us for a while and said, make this one little thing for me and I’ll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. At the mention of money, their eyes popped out and they asked, “where do we sign, where do we sign?” He turned to me with greedy eyes and I said, “No thanks,” trembling in fear I backed away running.
An old friend came up to me in town. He was richly dressed in silver and gold. He talked about a new get rich quick scheme. “Make this gadget and you can become like me! It won’t hurt you,” he said, “it’s for a good cause.”
He united the world under one economy without the firing of a single shot; the people rejoiced and praised him in their newfound peace and prosperity. They built him a great, great palace upon a mountain top with a glorious palace up above the clouds. His palace had a bridge descending through the sky to the city below. He sat in his throne watching, searching for the gentiles, the lost, and outsiders; he was greedy to bring in more soul into this newly established dominion.
Everywhere I went it was the same. People were slaving away for him. I was always in a state of terror. I felt watched distrusted, because I wasn’t partaking in the busyness consuming all the people. His eye was watching, always watching.
At first people were happy, especially the poor, with their newfound wealth, but after they were holed, their lives were drained away.
I was restless; the pressure to conform was crushing. I hung onto my life in desperation. The light that guided me was getting dimmer by the day. I was on the run, moving from place to place. I found others like me —outsiders, gentiles, nonpartakers— we gathered together in mountain cave, highway culverts, and in sewers seeking to find comfort in this dead, dying world.
“Where was the Un-Named One,” I cried on my knees gnashing my teeth and rending my clothes. The Un-Named One was dead. Pushed out of people’s hearts by the intrigue of the evil one.
The whole world was shrouded in a strange darkness. The sun hung low on the horizon. It was dark red in color and no longer provided any warmth for our weary hearts and minds. Hope was a feeling of the past, I asked the Un-Named One to end our sufferings and take our lives away, but no one was home; the telephone line sizzled into static.
Out of desperation we journeyed to the throne city thinking he needs to be destroyed. I was beyond fear. I no longer cared if I lived or if I was crushed by this mighty engine of despair.
We walked through a maze of city streets stepping in and around puddles and rivers of blood that flowed down from the palace above. We could hear cries of pain echoing in all directions from people working his machines. The people were no longer people, but undead creatures walking around in emptiness of materialism crushed by the weight of consumption and gold.
His priest were everywhere in robes of red. Their eyes shown with alien hues like red lizard eyes. They spotted us. We ran and ran, through many streets and hid behind an old building. When I looked around I saw a horror. Countless bodies piled up in a garbage heap. Twisted and broken in various stages of agony. Each face, arm, and leg told a story of how they had served him.
This was the terrible fate of the faithful.
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