* * * Awaiting Christ

Outdoors on a sunny day, I’m sitting at one of numerous round tables, part of a large gathering. My sister is sitting on my left. We are relatively close to the front of the gathering, where everyone is facing in the same direction. And it seems the people in the front rows are already standing. Directly to our left is a great luminous sky-blue building with several entrances and levels, beginning with a shadowy ground-floor foyer. Parallel with the persons in the front rows is what looks and feels like the main entrance—a tall, straight sky-blue glass or crystal facade. Behind us and to our right is a large futuristic looking city.

I’m busy writing (we all seem to be filling out a form), and listen with only half an ear to the man who occasionally walks out from near the main entrance, and addresses this quietly cheerful congregation. I know without being told that he is the priest in charge of our particular group. Then the dream comes into sharp focus and I become semi-lucid when I hear a woman in the front row say something to the priest, and his reply: “You’re not doing that well,” he informs her, “even though you are well taught.” I distinctly sense the woman does not at all like being told that although she has reserved a place near the front, she’s not doing enough to merit her position there.

Abruptly, I see the priest—whose hair is such a luminous blonde it borders on white—walking directly toward my table. When he meets and holds my eyes, I quickly push my chair back and stand up, because he is obviously coming to greet my sister and I, but seemingly unaware of this, she remains sitting silently to my left. I’m not too surprised the priest has come to greet me, but I AM very pleased he noticed us. In fact, I’m so happy I can’t seem to find my voice. But reaching across the table to firmly shake the hand he offers me, I manage to murmur, “Bless you” not sure what else to say.

With intense kindness and appreciation, the priest smiles down at me, but he’s speaking to the entire gathering as he draws their attention to my sister and I by calling us, “The guests at the wedding” which I know is a reference to the Gospels. He seems to be saying that although we’re newcomers, we pose a challenge to those who have been here for a very long time and become complacent, believing they are due everything with little or no passionate effort. Then walking back toward the entrance he declares, “May the competitors win!” and as I sit down again, people look my way. Smiling self-consciously, I get back to work. . .

It has grown darker. . . Finished with my task, at least for the moment, I turn in my chair and lean back against a white wall as I gaze up at the sky. All my attention is captivated by the sound of a quiet, and mysteriously thrilling rumbling of thunder alerting us all to the fact something is happening—that Someone, the Lord, is coming. I’m lucidly aware of my profile as some of the persons around me observe my rapt attention on the sky, and soon we’re all looking up at it, waiting.

I’m very conscious of the fact that my face is no more attractive than any other face, and that its appeal lies not in the youth I often project on my dream body, but in its God-given uniqueness. I also know that this feeling of being agelessly beautiful is inseparable from my soul. I absorb this knowledge in mere seconds, for all my attention and profound expectation is focused on the vast sky, which at the moment is almost completely obscured by black clouds. My vision is focused on the sky’s zenith, from which the rumbling of thunder is emanating. The view is miles high and wide, and I’m sitting parallel with what feels like an ocean bay around which this city is built.

Heralded by the mysteriously promising voice of the thunder, a bright white light gradually begins manifesting at the heart of the darkness, similar to moonlight breaking through clouds, only it’s NOT moonlight. I know what we’re all waiting for—we’re waiting for our Lord, for the Second Coming of Christ, and my joyful awe-struck anticipation is answered by a vision:

Enfolded by black clouds as though by a heavenly cloak, I perceive a Christian Cross shining like a diamond jewel of infinite worth—a Cross brighter, more brilliant and alive and more beautiful than anything else—a Cross made of stars. Yet it’ it’s more accurate to say that the stars composing the Cross are all the suns in the universe concentrated into their Source—God Who is Christ, Who shines as the greatest of all the stars at the summit of the cross.

Then to the right of the Cross, I perceive rising on a long horizon of grayish-blue clouds vertical rectangular spires of varying heights forming a city. . . a silvery celestial city! I realize then that the man-made skyscrapers around me are only reflections of this heavenly city. And as soon as I notice this, I become aware that a great celebration is in progress as the rumbling of thunder—which initially announced the Second Coming of Christ—transforms into the sound of countless fireworks being launched into the sky directly over the water around which the city is built. I have a clear view of these luminous displays of rejoicing as they sparkle in the sky above the water and below the celestial Cross. The fireworks are being launched three at a time in broad, ovular spheres with sharp tops and bottoms reminiscent of Christmas ornaments. Each one is composed of tiny glimmering lights that can’t remotely compare to the unwavering depth and brilliance of the starry Cross, yet their varied colors are all perfectly lovely.

Leaning back in my chair and looking slightly to my right toward the great building beside me, I see that within it lights are also shining. Abruptly, I lucidly recall being in this same dream last night. I’m very happy I was able to enter this dream again, and I know I need to return a third time, because there’s more to come.

Getting up to go, I am immediately and yet with infinite gentleness lifted up across the water and into the heavens toward the celestial Cross. I feel the Lord is about to wake me so I will clearly remember this dream experience, and as I say to myself, “I was in this dream last night filling out a form” I “land” back in bed.

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