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.

“He and I”

I believe this is a fine example of how it can sometimes take years for the spiritual meaning and significance of a lucid dream to reveal itself.

Recently, I came across a book entitled He and I  by Gabrielle Bossis. I had never heard of this book or the author.

Or so I thought. Then I began reading, and how Jesus spoke to Gabrielle felt so familiar to my soul – in the sense of absolutely right and true – I was compelled to find out more about the woman who had written down the Lord’s intimate communications with her. Her name rang a bell inside me, and I suddenly remembered a lucid dream I had had, years ago, the significance of which remained a mystery. I had entitled that dream Gabrielle 1873:

Excerpt from my Lucid Dream of March 8, 2013:

Almost on the ground now, I resign myself to finding a door to use the key on hoping it will lead directly to the beach, where my lucid dreaming friend James and I are trying to meet. But I’m not happy with that. I do the usual thing of trying to find a way through the buildings by climbing through a window, and looking for an exit in the direction I want to go, but I have no patience for this anymore. Exasperated, I head back outside, sensing that gravity has become more realistic and that just flying away isn’t really an option for some reason. I perch on the thick, braided dark-green “rope” of a traffic signal and walk across it like a tightrope holding on to James’ key, which transforms, shedding two smaller keys and becoming the correct shape and color but easily three times bigger than the actual waking reality key. This seems odd but somehow promising.

The traffic signal “tightrope” leads me into the thick white branches of a tree. The city feels different around me, more quaint and residential. The tree is a barrier to my desire to move on to my destination, yet its intricate, and complexly curving ascending limbs, provide an irresistible obstacle coarse. I make my way up it, and am intrigued when I perceive a white door looming just above me to the right. The door is partially covered by the roots of a tree so vast, they are all I can see of it. The roots have grown around this door, clutching it rather like a cut gem is held in a ring’s setting. It looks as if I won’t be able to open this door even if I can manage to unlock it, but I’m compelled to investigate. The keyhole is much too small for James’ large key, so I simply produce a golden key chain, from which hang a small variety of keys. I study the assortment, honing in on a slender golden key with a delicate smooth round head. I slip-thrust it into the lock, working it in, and turn it to the right. So gratifying when I feel the movement and hear the deep “click” that means I’ve succeeded.

I push open the door and look inside. Below me, as though I’m viewing it from an open upstairs foyer, I two see small gas lamps, delicate antiques, their glass tops gently beveled and a soft white, very distinct. They are part of a similarly elegant but subdued decor, clearly a woman’s house or apartment. The modest living area opens onto a kitchen, in which I can just make out a woman’s figure to the far left apparently working over the stove. As she turns and walks into the living area, she says, “Come in, dear.”

She is an older woman with white hair, a little stout, wearing a long white dress simply cut, and she is really there, not a vague Dream Figure. She feels very nice and welcoming, and I distinctly sense something important is going on here. Seriously intrigued, I ask, “Who are you?” and she replies, “Gabrielle, 1873.” 

I become aware of another woman in the room – who is also dressed entirely in white – when she comes to stand beside the older woman close to a black fireplace mantle, and they both smile up at me. I ask, “And who are you?” She doesn’t respond, so I address the white-haired woman again, “You did say 1873?” She confirms that she did while gently turning in her hands a rectangular object that appears to be part of an antique clock. Looking at the younger woman again, I say, “And I assume you are also Gabrielle?” She simply smiles up at me again without replying, and I slowly wake up.

I used a golden key to open the white door into Gabrielle’s apartment, located in a massive white tree that seemed to join heaven and earth – the Tree of Life, the Living Vine to which Jesus compared himself. I did not know it at the time, but lucid dreaming was leading me on a path in keeping with Christian mystical tradition, so that I ended up re-embracing the Catholic faith I was born to.

After I re-read my dream, I went online to learn more about Gabrielle Bossis. I came across a few forums where other Christians were asking about her and her book, wondering if her personal revelations had been approved by the Church, and if it was “safe” to read He and I. I learned the Imprimatur for her book was given by his Excellency Jean-Marie Fortier, Archbishop, Sherbrooke, Quebec. From Wikipedia: “An imprimatur (from Latin, “let it be printed”) is an official declaration from the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church that a literary or similar work is free from error in matters of Roman Catholic doctrine, and hence acceptable reading for faithful Roman Catholics.”  I was glad to hear it, but not surprised.

At first, nothing I read about Gabrielle seemed to relate to my dream except her name, until I found out she had been born in 1874, which means she was likely conceived in 1873.** This provided another tenuous link to my dream. But it was not until I saw a picture of the inside of her home, and a photo of her as a very young woman, that I began to think my dream had, indeed, foretold my discovery of He and I, and how deeply it would resonate with me.

In a photograph of her home, I saw sitting on a table, a clock nearly identical to the clock I had seen the Gabrielle of my dream holding in her hands where she stood beside a black fireplace mantle which was also in the photo. The feel, style and decoration of her home matched the one from my dream. And another photo – of Gabrielle as a very young woman dressed entirely in white – also seems to have been glimpsed beforehand by my dreaming soul.

On very rare occasions in her early life, Gabrielle had been surprised by a Mysterious Voice, which she heard and felt with awe, and sometimes anxious questionings, which she perceived to be the Voice of Christ. It was only at the age of 62, however, that this touching dialogue with the “Inner Voice” began in earnest, continuing (at least in her notes) until two weeks before her death on June 9, 1950.” From Mystics of the Catholic Church

This seemed to explain why I had seen an old woman and a very young woman standing side-by-side in my dream, and yet mysteriously known they were the same person.

I cannot, and have no desire, to prove Gabrielle Bossis truly was the Gabrielle from my lucid dream. But having learned that dreams, through the power of the Holy Spirit, can indeed offer us glimpses of the future – as well as reveal and unfold for us the deepest secrets of our hearts to help us overcome obstacles in our spiritual growth – I feel free to embrace the thought that I was blessed with this dream as Divine encouragement to trust Gabrielle’s personal revelations.++

Perhaps I had this dream because my soul’s path to God is similar to Gabrielle’s, who co-authored a book with our Lord. Years ago, in another lucid dream, I applied for the position of Secretary to the Lord, and not long afterward, I wrote Lucid Dreams and the Holy Spirit. 

** I have since learned that Gabrielle Bossis was born on February 26, 1874 which confirms she was indeed conceived in 1873.

++ Having now read nearly half the book, I can truly appreciate why my soul had this dream. Words cannot express the beauty and power of He and I and how personally and intensely I feel Christ speaking to me through it. I cannot possibly recommend it enough!

From “He and I” by Gabrielle Bossis:

Your measure will be to love Me beyond measure. I’ll pay you with love. Portion off your day in order to be more sure of offering it to Me. Offer Me this visit, that letter, this piece of work. See more of Me and less of you. Rise above these little earthly cares until you think of Me alone.”

Desire … Desire … To desire is to increase your capacity to receive … Let Me come in and take over everything. Give yourself to Me. Don’t let anything in you hinder Me from working through you. I act through those who put their entire selves at My disposal …”

“I want to heal you of your weak faith, of your life lived apart from Me rather than in Me, of your shortsighted and rare view of My actual Presence. Think, ‘My great friend. My beloved is not absent. I cannot see Him or touch Him, but He is there with His extravagance of love.’ And then you will take My love and offer it to Me as though it were your own. Do you want this? Tonight … Right away … Ceaselessly?”

“You’ll need great courage to become holy. Never lose sight of the goal: holiness; that means to be always in readiness for Me, to belong to Me utterly. It’s so very simple; believe Me. Would I ever ask anything that was too difficult for you? Just live in My love—holy, one moment at a time. Drive out all worries, all idle dreaming. Don’t complicate things. Give me your soul simply … Don’t fail to supernaturalize everything, night and day. It is My life that is living in you now, not yours. Adore. Give thanks. And when I ask you to be simple, I mean above all in your relations with Me. Don’t get the idea that I need any special words or gestures; just be yourself. Who is closer to you than God?”

“Don’t worry. Since you can’t do anything about these things, you don’t need to bother about them; they’re My concern. Just put them in My hands, and that’s all that matters. Don’t you need practice in trusting Me? You know how I love your childlike confidence in Me. These are moments to show how little you are and give Me a chance to take care of you as a husband takes care of his wife…”

“No, it’s not an illusion. You’re not in error, only in the shadow-land. Just feeling your way by faith. I planned it this way. So throw yourself into My arms. Say that you believe, that you hope, that you love, and commit your entire being to Me.”