Asking Jesus What He Wrote

Lucid Dream of September 7, 2017

Mami and I are in a theater watching an old movie that stops suddenly, and after a few moments, the people up in the camera box announce that the remastered version can no longer be played, but we have the option to see the original version in another theater nearby. So Mami and I get up. I’m holding several Kindles and a notepad, and concentrating on them, so that Mami bumps against me, and says she knows what I’m up to now when I get like way with history. We reach steps I recognize lead down to the theater we want. Hurrying down them, I call up to Mami, urging her to hurry, because the movie is about to start. I remember the title of the old historical drama related to Christianity in some way begins with a “B”.

I’m moving really fast down a shadowy street, passing a dark city park on my right. I know danger possibly lurks there amidst the trees, so I veer to the left and travel even more swiftly along a sidewalk lined with shops, my progress unimpeded by a family sleeping on the sidewalk covered by blue and red blankets. I recognize now the dark cobbles of a street in downtown Boston I’m very familiar with both from waking life and dreams. I’m moving so fast, I stretch my arms out and begin flying. Oh yeah, this is a dream!

It’s daylight now, and as I fly down the street, it immediately occurs to me that my intent is to see what Jesus was writing in the dust (NLV Translation or “on the ground” according to other translations) as John observed and recorded in a passage of his Gospel (John 8: 1-12)

The idea to do this in a lucid dream came to me through my character Mary Fallon as she was talking to Steve in my new novel The Spirit of Imhotep  – Lucid Dreams & Spiritual Warfare Book 1. 

I know I’m flying in the direction of the ocean, a perfect place, so I pick up speed simply by willing it. I’m flying swift and sharp and sleek as the figurehead of a ship streaking through the blue air so around me all is a white surf-like blur.

I slow down as I near a boardwalk of sorts, and perceive steps leading down to it. I can’t seem to go any faster, but it’s fast enough. I land at the bottom of the steps, but now I realize that what looked liked sand is actually stone. I immediately inform the dream that I need sand (what I feel Jesus wrote on vs. dust) and close my eyes.

When I open my eyes again, the dark speckling of the stone has transformed into little shadows on sand. There is even a shallow but distinct oval indentation in the sand the shape and size of a large fish. Perfect! As I kneel beside it, I say, “Lord, please let me see what you were writing in the sand… in English, so that I can understand it.” I close my eyes.

When I open my eyes again, I see large carved or embossed letters with flowing lines, very fancy, lovely, obviously not a modern way of writing, but the letters themselves are recognizable as the English alphabet. Yet I wonder if they’re some form of ancient Greek as I seem to distinguish, from left to right, the letters C, X, Q or R. At first I think Jesus was writing what he was going to give us—eternal life and salvation through his birth as I imagine the letters might spell CHRISTMAS.

My vision moves along the row of letters, clearly distinguishing each one. I try to memorize them, but there are too many, and they don’t seem to form a word I can read or recognize. Bending even closer to them, I take one in my hands, because they have all stopped being merely letters. Swords, which are not quite as long or broad as my arm—they are more like huge letter openers—are topped by figures. I see a dragon’s head, a knight’s helmeted head, and then, on two smaller ones, the white head of a horse in profile, its mane flowing into the hilt. There are many of them, many more than the row of letters I originally saw. I handle quite a few of them, intrigued, because they are fascinating, yet I don’t see how Jesus could have been writing with them. I try to recognize the different figures, but I only remember a handful.

Dream Notes:

I am very much like the woman in the scriptural passage. I stood before Christ guilty of all sorts of sins, many of them sexual, but He did not condemn me, He forgave me, and now I sin no more.

I think perhaps the letters appearing in Old English is the Lord’s way of teasing me, of reminding me that a positive sense of humor is His gift, like everything else. The dream space can definitely tease us, play with us, have fun with us, and we have fun with it, precisely because it is NOT an IT.

I Googled “ancient Greek letters alphabet” then “ancient Hebrew letters” and it was obvious neither one was what I saw. So—since I had asked to be shown what Jesus wrote in English—I looked up Old English letters, and there it was, the script from my dream, which seemed to change from letters to images of dragons and knights and horses, but were still also the letters of an alphabet. When I looked up “Old English Christian manuscripts” many illustrations pulled up and reinforced my feeling this was definitely the language I saw in my dream. Many images were from Beowulf, which reminded me of the historical film Mami and I had been watching the remastered version of in my earlier dream, but we had to switch to the old original version, which made me think of modern English vs. Old English. I should have been even more specific and asked to see what Jesus wrote in modern English!

I’m sure my request was understood perfectly. Old English may technically have come up because it literally came first, was closest to Christ’s time, and because it was used to illustrate Christian manuscripts, etc. But I still feel it was the Lord playing with me in the most wonderful way, like a Father both indulging and teasing His child.

I emailed this dream to friends and family, and discovered another fascinating dimension to the experience when V., also a Christian, dreamer, wrote me back:

That is so amazing! This is my dream from that night:

I am somewhere… I write… it is fading now, but I am with a lot of people. There is one guy who is there dressed in white. I am watching him, and I tell my husband, “Look at this guy, he just jumped right in to help everyone.” I keep watching him and commenting on how great he is. My husband gets annoyed with the praise I’m heaping on this man. As I watch him, he is pouring white sand, or is it blessed salt? It is also sparkly, and he is picking up this sparkly sand/salt and pouring it into everyone’s hands as they come up to receive it. I say to my husband, “You usually can’t see goodness, but this man has manifested it and is giving goodness to everyone who comes up to see him.” I think as I watch him – Is this Jesus? I wake.

I thought it interesting, Maria, how we both saw sand, and Jesus was there giving words or goodness to us on the same night!!

That day we had gone to a Vermont cheese place my husband likes, and next door to it was a new Scottish store. We went in to look around, and there were what I thought were letter openers, one with a sword, one with a dragon, another a horseman. The lady told me that they were not letter openers but large pins for kilts! So I had to tell you that!

My mother, Juana Rosa Pita, also commented on my dream:

Perhaps what Jesus wrote cannot be grasped by our limited minds, and is a secret that we can share precisely only in this way, thus partaking in His Being.

I think He distributed salt in V’s dream since we are all supposed to be the salt of the earth.

I am inclined to agree with my mother, that I may not be meant to see what our Lord wrote that day on the ground, but in the spirit of  “Ask and you shall receive” I think I will try one more time. 

Between Sleeping and Waking

Woke up after 4:00 in the morning, and stayed awake, lying in bed, eyes closed. When I caught my mind wandering like a dog to the same old “subject-smells” I yanked it back into focus. No, I thought, I am not lying alone in this bed. Christ is within me, lying on this bed with me, literally. At once, I felt a warmth, peace and comfort which is the soul’s equivalent of a lover spooning me from behind, but so much deeper and infinitely better.

For several weeks, I had been trying to come up with an intent I could really be excited about when I became lucid in a dream. I kept juggling the same ideas over and over, but none of them truly excited me. But it came to me then—was given to me by the Spirit—the request I will make the next time I become lucid in a dream:

“Lord, may I please have a glimpse of Your dream of me?”

Still trying to fall asleep consciously, and thinking about how such a lucid dream would be perceived should I be blessed with it, I asked:

“Lord, how can I best respond to people who think that everything that happens to them in a dream comes from their subconscious?”

And I received the reply:

When you open your eyes in the dark, can you make yourself see?

“No, Lord.”

Your soul was made for the Living Light.”

And like a pupil, the smaller I become in my own eyes, I thought, the more clearly I can see.

At Christ’s Crucifixion

Dream of January 22, 2017

I find myself semi-lucid in a moderately spacious room filled with chairs in which people are sitting. The chairs are in pairs, and I am to the right of Mami, near the front row. I try to hush Mami when she protests loudly about something. She doesn’t seem to believe me, or understand, what I told her—that we are actually witnessing a part of Christ’s crucifixion. It’s like a dream, but it isn’t, and it’s not a scene from a movie re-playing in 3-D either, because we are actually there, seeing and experiencing it as it happened and is happening, as if we are viewing it through a portal in time.

As I explain this to Mami again quickly, she settles down even as I realize I don’t care what anyone thinks about Mami and I talking openly and passionately, instead of timidly blending in; it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, the only important, and amazing, thing is what is happening, and that we have been brought to this uniquely special experience…

I see Jesus, a young, dark-haired man whose cleanly handsome and utterly kind, patient face is imprinted on my memory even though I only glimpse him for a few seconds. He is busy helping the slaves who have been employed to help the soldiers crucify him. The slaves are moving toward the audience, and the front rows, where they rummage through a series of glimmering gold, green and red boxes like oversized square Christmas ornaments. These boxes, I see clearly from my position, contain black nails of varying sizes, and other metal objects needed for the gruesome task at hand. Jesus is actually helping them procure the right nails.

I watch the scene, dismayed, and marveling at the same time. It hits me how long this process is taking as I experience, firsthand, the unwavering strength and fortitude Jesus displayed—is displaying—throughout the entire ordeal, which is taking much longer than I realized it had. I’m astonished with what equanimity he can endure having so much time to despair and to dread. Instead, He is helping those who are helping to crucify him! And I can sense the slaves are also beginning to feel a bit guilty about this, beginning to question why they are helping to kill this man. But they have no choice; they are only slaves.

I remember seeing Christ for just a few seconds, yet I am aware of His presence the entire time, and His face is imprinted on my heart—so sweet, so loving, so patient, his expression coolly reserved but at the same time also infinitely warm. I can’t understand why special nails are required, and can hardly believe how many different kinds of nails—along with a few special bolts and screws—are contained in these paradoxically lovely Christmas-present-type boxes, which are not merely in front of the audience, but mixed in with the front rows of spectators.

Dream Notes:

Regarding the Christmas ornament like boxes filled with black nails scattered among the feet of the audience – Each one of us crucifies Christ inside us in different ways. We each contribute nails to His crucifixion—our own particular weaknesses which prevent Him from fully resurrecting and living in our souls. And His patience with us is endless, unwavering, as he helps us pinpoint which nails are the ones we need to find in the gift of our salvation and bring to Him, so we can end the painful process of dying to our sinful, and helplessly weak nature, so He might rise and live forever inside us. It is really the death of our own self we prolong as Christ gently helps us discover what causes us the most pain, what weaknesses penetrate our being like nails, as He helps us pinpoint them, confront them, suffer them consciously, and be reborn.

Comforting Christ

Lucid Dream of July 8, 2015

I enter a small unfurnished room in a great Mansion. I can’t remember now everything I had been doing out in the city, and in other rooms within the building, but at once, I feel everything was leading me here. A young man, wrapped in a white sheet, is lying on his back on some kind of a slab not much wider than his body. I cannot recall whether or not his lips are actually moving, but I clearly hear the words he is saying over and over again, “I did this. I did this. I did this…” Even though His expression only hints at the fact, I know He is in great pain, that He is suffering unimaginable anguish. I sit down beside him, also aware that his words are not filled with self recrimination or despair, on the contrary—He chose to endure this suffering, and even now He is Master of the agony. He is not waiting or longing for death, He has instead, by permitting Himself to be crucified, defeated death for all of us, for I have known, almost from the moment I entered the room, who He is.

Mere seconds have passed from my opening the door, to my coming to sit beside him, and now I gently turn His face toward me slightly as, bending over him, I gently kiss His right cheek once, and then again. I know this is all I can do to comfort Him, and that somehow it is enough, at least for now, even though I wish, with all my heart and soul, that I had the power to ease His torment. His skin is smooth, pale yet gently flushed, like an early morning sky just before the sun rises. His hair is straight where it frames His face, and seems long, for its smooth dark length, brightened by a reddish gold, disappears into the white sheet wrapped around his body. I am looking down at Jesus Christ, whose face is that of a handsome man. And yet subtly, but intensely, His face is more beautiful than any mortal man’s could ever be. He in no way resembles any of the actors I have seen portray Him in films or television. Gazing at Him, I think about how I could never have imagined His face, remembering how I scarcely dared to even hope I might see Him one night in a dream. And yet here I am, tenderly kissing the cheek of a man just like any other man, and yet unlike any other man in His “luminous” perfection, which cannot be measured feature by feature by the eyes of my dreaming soul, only felt and experienced.

I am both amazed, and not at all surprised, that I am looking upon the face of Christ.  His cheek felt smooth and tender as a child’s against my lips, and yet His face is that of a man in the prime of life, what a man can look like. I understand that “part” of Him is still crucified, is still suffering, and will continue to do so until His redemption of humanity is complete. I know He has already risen,  conquered all pain and death itself, but that in my soul—as in every God fearing and loving soul that has not yet reached perfection—He is still lying as if in a tomb, fresh from the agony of the cross, not yet ascended to the Father. Comforting Him now in my dream, being with Him, accompanying Him in his pain, I know it is my own soul, which lives forever in Him, I am at last rescuing and taking responsibility for. Never again will I leave the side of my Lord, I will stay with Him, and lovingly, comfortingly kiss His cheek, until all His suffering on my account has ended, is finally finished.

Preliminary Dream Notes:

I heard Him repeating the words, “I did this” and in the dream I understood what he was saying to mean: “Nothing was done to Me that God did not will.”

The few times I dared imagine seeing Christ in a lucid dream, He always appeared standing before me, arms slightly outstretched, his robed figure an outline of bright colors in an even brighter light, so that His face would scarcely be visible as a blinding joy emanating from my own longing, and filled in by traditional images of our Lord.

This dream has helped me understand that in loving Jesus Christ more and more every day—in striving to obey Him, to walk with Him in all my thoughts, feelings and actions, in seeking His comfort and strength when I feel weak and afraid—I am also comforting Him. The fact that all I could do in my dream was keep Him company, conscious of how willingly He suffered and still suffers for my sins, gently kissing His cheek, tells me my soul has a long way to go, a fact which in no way diminishes how blessed I feel to have seen my Lord’s face, and to have kissed Him in a lucid dream, for until last night, only He had kissed me in a dream.

I could never have imagined His face as I perceived it. I feel that for every soul His face is equally beautiful in its own unique way, for Christ is the very Spirit of mankind as God created us. And yet Jesus also was, and forever remains, Himself, a man unlike no other for He is God, who took flesh, and lived and walked among us to lead our souls safely Home.

Approximately seven years ago, I had the dream of the man lying in a tomb wrapped in a white shroud, the first dream in “my” book. His eyes were open, but He did not speak. I feel, I hope, this dream begins another seven year period in my spiritual growth.

“I Dared to Call Him Father”

Publisher’s Summary

How do I give myself to God completely? What happens when I do? This is a book for everyone who has ever asked these questions.

I Dared to Call Him Father is the fascinating true story of Bilquis Sheikh, a prominent Muslim woman in Pakistan who faced these questions at the crossroads of her life and found the astonishing answers. Her unusual journey to a personal relationship with God turned her world upside down – and put her life in danger – as a series of strange dreams launched her on a quest that would forever consume her heart, mind, and soul.

©1978, 2003 Bilquis Sheikh (P)2012 Blackstone Audio, Inc.

I began listening to this Audio Book three days ago, and it is completely blowing my mind and scouring my soul. The Lord put it before me now, because I wouldn’t have been ready to listen to it before my own similar experiences of meeting Him in dreams. Through this wonderful woman, God is showing me where I am still weak in my faith, and what I need do about it. Yesterday, after listening to a few chapters, I got up and went through my home office like a human tornado. I couldn’t believe the strength that filled my 54 year old body to move and lift, and do everything I did in just a couple of hours! It was a symbolic act of what I am striving to do with my thought and emotional processes. Yesterday, I cleared away many old habitual ways of thinking and feeling that were tripping me up in my desire to walk closer to God day by day, depending only on the stimulating peace and promise of His Presence.

When would I learn that I cannot worry and trust God at the same time?”

A very salient point for me, because for the past few weeks, I have been obsessively worrying about how “my” book will be received, when it will get its first review, how many copies it will sell, etc. etc. In truth, His Presence is all that really matters. What happened to Bilquis happens to me: whenever I find myself thinking in certain ways, resisting doing something I wouldn’t normally do, I  lose the glorious sense of His Presence – a spiritual “sensation” akin to standing in warm sunshine on a cold day when the sun is suddenly obscured by a cloud. When I prayerfully strive to untangle decades of ingrained thought and emotional processes, obediently listening to what the Lord is telling me (sometimes through opening the New Testament at random) and I realize there is something God either wants me to do, or wants me to stop doing, the deep, steady, quiet joy of His Presence blessedly returns.

I highly highly recommend this Audio book! It is a joy to listen to.