Dream 22

Dream 22

I sit on the ground massaging my right calf. The task is tough as my fingers cramp up when I apply the amount of pressure required to loosen the cramp. My limbs don’t work properly. Painful cramps in different limbs cause my entire body to cease moving and I keep having to spend my energy massaging cramps instead of getting to work. Still, I limp forward on the good leg and stay focused with my good eye.

Pain shoots through my right side, just under my lungs. It is so severe that it doubles me over. I need help but everyone ignores me, just walking past as if I am invisible.

A sick man lays on the ground about 100 meters away from me. This was my original destination, to get to this man, feed him and pray for him. My body fights me though, some parts willing to go, others rebelling against me.

Uriel appears next to me and waits for me to catch my breath as the stabbing pain subsides.

Uriel:
“The body cannot move properly on one good leg alone, neither can it move when a vital organ is not fully functional. The head may say go there and certain members of the body may do it, but absent the entire body can the task not be accomplished.”

We now are above an informal settlement somewhere in Mexico. Millions of people live in the slums below us, children run in the streets, oblivious to the writing appearing upon their spirits as they take in all that surrounds them and accept it as normal.

We are now street level. Four men walk up to a teenage boy, chat to him about something, laugh with
him and then start shooting him. They run into a nearby alleyway, leaving the crumpled body in a quickly expanding pool of dark blood. Someone shouts. A crowd gathers around the body. A group of heavily tattooed men arrive. They are heavily armed with the type of guns you might see the military carry. The men ask the crowd harsh questions, intimidating them and hitting them. Obviously trying to find out who did this. Someone points down an alleyway and the armed men run that way as sirens draw near to the scene of the crime. Suddenly another cry fills the air as a mother comes running out of the shack which was behind the man who was shot. She carries the limp body of a little girl. Some bullets had missed and gone through the thin shack wall to find the sleeping little girl in the room beyond.

The air is now filled with the cries of anguish and grief of everyone present. I can make out what sounds like ‘kay dee os kay dee os kay hay soos pokay hay soos’ – something like that, it may be in the wrong order as everyone is shouting and crying at the same time. My ears are opened briefly to translate what they are shouting over and over “why God why God why God?!”

Suddenly we are inside an extremely cool church. People laugh and sing happily while a professional band delivers perfect musicality and a beautiful girl sings in perfect pitch. She has one shoulder bared and it draws my attention. I feel guilty and look away, just listening to the song. The atmosphere is incredible, I get gooseflesh and raise my hands to sing along. I close my eyes and the music changes to a thundering electronic song. I open my eyes and we are in front of a massive outdoor stage. A famous DJ hops up and down behind a table made of screens and pumps his fist in the air while lasers and other beautiful lights create an incredible display around him. Scantily clad girls dance on the stage to either side of him. Combined with the incredibly uplifting song, it overwhelms my senses and I close my eyes to take a moment to become one with this incredible crowd.

The music stops and I open my eyes. We are in an extremely dry part of Africa. Cattle walk to and fro on brown dirt, ribs poking at their skin to show off every one individually. A few kids move lazily about, big eyes on skinny bodies. I try to figure out where we are so that I can do something about it when I awaken but the scene changes again to a luxury holiday resort.

We stand on the balcony overlooking a beautiful pool that seems to extend to the transparent sea water beyond it. People play on massive luxury yachts, jet skis and parachutes towed by speed boats. I take it all in and think about the incredible creativity of God to make such a beautiful beach. As I turn my head to take in the view I notice what looks like a shack or a group of shacks somewhere in the distance beyond the high palm trees and jungle that surrounds the resort.
We are now above the resort. From this height I can see thousands of shacks in a slum that stretches for a long distance along a tar road. I try to figure out where we are so that I can do something about it but the
scene changes again. I think we have gone backwards in time. This might be Cairo. I have never been to Cairo so make the assumption from pictures I have seen. Starvation wracks the city. People move about in slow motion, sick with hunger. Flies settle on children and playfully avoid their lazy swats. We are now at a mansion overlooking the city where an overweight couple sit chatting over cups of something sweet. Skinny slaves fan them while muscular guards look on. There is an abundance of food on the table in front of them and they nibble while they chat gaily.
We move forward in time again. We are a horse racing event somewhere in what seems to be pre-ww2 USA, approximately 1930 or so. Well-dressed people in private booths and private balconies eat delicacies
while hungry people in the stands look on.

I don’t want to see anymore but we move again.
We are above Khayalitsha, South Africa. Poverty stretches from horizon to horizon.

We are now in penthouse overlooking the sea. The modern luxury is incredible.

We are back on the land under Michael’s calf.

Me:
“I really can’t look at this stuff anymore.”

I want to cry, or be angry or express some kind of emotion but I am too exhausted to have any kind of emotion.

Uriel:
“Disparity is not a malicious act by the rich upon the poor. It is the result of the economy of mammon written upon the spirits of all. Both rich and poor struggle with the same temptations. For a man who has ten apples may be able to help a man with none and a man with ten million apples may help more who have none but all fear the same thing. Losing all their apples. The economy of mammon is an economy of fear.
It tells the lie that there is not enough to go around, that resources or love can run out.

From a very young age, desperation is written upon the spirits of the young. And thus are pain, fear, hopelessness, insecurity, worthlessness and trust in the counterfeit embedded in their minds and written upon their spirits.

Thus does the culture of their ecclesia become a culture of false hope in mammon. And their parents would say to them: ‘Life is hard’ and ‘education is the path to success’ and define their worth by what they may earn one day. And upon their spirits are written that worth is determined by financial success or academic ability. So does mammon remove their ability to access the spirit and find their true destiny.
There is only the word, who is God and only when the word is written upon the spirit of man shall he find those things he has been called to do.

So then must every child be raised in the way they should go, filled with the words of the word made manifest and filled with Holy Spirit so that they may access the unlimited creative realm. For the culture of mammon shall keep them in fear and false hope but the culture of the word shall inspire within them faith to overcome the impossible.

All men will manifest what is written upon their spirit. And every word is a seed that is sown into the heart bears fruit upon the spirit. Sow then the seed of the word into the hearts of the young and their own revelation will destroy the culture that enslaves them. All that is needed is to cultivate a love and hunger for the word.

Men may try every strategy but if the word is not written upon the spirits of those in poverty, they shall remain under the thrall of mammon, increasing disparity and contending against the kingdom of heaven.”

Builder:
“So all then must receive the blood of the lamb and wash clean their hearts and delete the writing upon their spirit, then must they testify the word so that they may sow seeds upon their hearts. For the word is all and to know it well grants much power.
Feed the children, clothe the children but train them to love the word and become the word made manifest as the Christ showed us. And then, when they are in confirmation of the word shall they rise to the destiny for which they have been prepared.

For it is not merely the mind that must change, it is what has been written upon the spirit. Change what is written upon the spirit, create a new Ecclesia and remove any culture that contends against the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

Do this for every child and in one generation shall the world change as never before!”

Gatherer:
“You saw many differences between the rich and those who have nothing. Heed well these word son of sorrow and also all who have ears to hear:
The war is not against flesh and blood. It is waged in the spirit. And for this reason should you know that the desire of the enemy is for your spirit to be covered in fear. For this reason must you discern what is written upon the spirits of men. And bring them to have their spirit washed clean in the blood of the lamb so that fresh revelation through the Holy Spirit may cover their spirits in the word of the Father. Do this son of sorrow for there is only the word, who is the word made manifest and contains the love of the Father.
Be one as we are one. Be one in the word.

I wake up.