Dream of:25 June 1995 "Bolt-Of-Lightening Sword"
wielding the power to create beauty depends on the will of the creator
I had been whisked through the world from one magnificent monument to another with each succeeding monument more resplendent than the previous. I was unsure how the odyssey was being accomplished, but when I realized the seeming impossibility of simply appearing at one place after another, I tentatively concluded that I must be dreaming.
Suddenly I materialized at a new monument. I was standing on a high mountain which I knew was somewhere in South America, probably either in Argentina or Brazil. Although I could see and think quite well, my body seemed almost rigid, almost unable to move. The panoramic view of the valley below mesmerized me even more.
There below, winding through a verdant jungle, stretched a mighty swath of brown earth which had been plowed up for a four lane highway. I recalled that when I had first started the trip, one of my initial sights had been a huge highway under construction. That same theme had presented itself at other stops, and now, in what I perceived to be my final destination, I saw the same sight again. I knew this motif had some monumental significance, and I scoured my mind for its meaning.
Meanwhile, straight ahead of me on the mountain, stood a bench which had obviously been set up so people could sit and gaze out on the valley below. I felt my body move toward the bench and take a seat on it. Now having a better view of the valley, I saw to my left an enormous monolithic monument rising from the valley high into the air. At the top, almost on a level with me, was a ring of many statues surrounding the monument. All the statues seemed important, but one in particular caught my eye – a man holding asword about waist high and parallel to the ground. The sword resembled a bolt of lightening.
Although I realized I was having an unusual and momentous experience, I was still unsure of the meaning of it all, and my mind was still not functioning well enough to sort out the significance. It was almost as if I were hypnotized. At least I did realize that it was important for me to make a record of what I was seeing, perhaps so I could record it on film. However, already much of what I had seen was fuzzy in my mind. I thought that perhaps I could repeat the entire journey the following night, and that maybe then I would be more prepared for what I would witness. The entire fatiguing journey seemed to have lasted three to three and a half hours, and I somewhat dreaded having to repeat it. But I knew I would.
In the meantime, it seemed as if I needed to do something right now, and suddenly I knew what I should do: I needed to cry. Even though other people had shown up and were sitting on the bench around me, I began a loud sob which grew in intensity to a scream. No one said anything to frustrate me. I cried to God. I cried for the misery of man in the world, and for my inability to understand it. When my fervent cry had grown as loud as I could possibly make it, I abruptly stopped. I felt a remarkably equable peace rise within me, as if by rapturously crying, something had been released within me. I sat reflecting, realizing I had accomplished something important.
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