Dream 155

It is 01:14 and I wake up to someone shouting from the direction of the bridge at the bottom end of the property.
The shouting strikes a chord in my heart that resonates with the pain that children feel when their parents are screaming at each other.
At first I fight an inner fear, whimpering like I used to as a child. My fear conjures dangerous reptiles in the Caravan and I work up the courage to switch on the light.
The shouting continues: steady, consistent, violent.

My slowly fear converts to anger and suddenly I am brimming with adrenaline And seething with indignation. I grab the torch and the panga and walk across the property towards the shouting, my blood hot in my veins. Everything in me is ready to commit murder, I want the shouting to stop, no matter the cost.

I arrive beneath the bridge where the border of the property is at the river and hear the shouting from the exact spot on the bridge above me that is above the border to the property.
Two extremely tall, athletic men stand above me screaming curses down at me. Both are two heads taller than a tall man, height framed by blockish muscle, faces sharp and hateful, their screams and curses are a messy cacophony that I struggle to understand the foamy spittle that hurtles with every word. Their rage is a perfect picture of insanity, their hatred for me so palpable that their words buffet me like strong gusts of wind.

“YOU WILL FAIL, YOU WILL FAIL, YOU WILL FAIL, YOU ARE NOTHING! NOTHING! YOU ARE A PIECE OF (expletive), (expletive) YOU, YOU FAILURE, FAILURE, FAILURE!YOU ARE AN (Expletive) FAILURE!”

It goes on and on and I grow so sick of hearing their curses that I scream back in anger, my voice cracking with livid emotion.

Me: “COME SAY THAT HERE, COME! I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!”

The man on the left does not hesitate, he smirks and immediately jumps from the high bridge above me, sailing through the air, unsheathing a long, curved sword with the graceful precision of a dancer.
I suddenly realize that I have made a grave mistake. Somehow my exhaustion and subconscious frustration with critical people has made me blind to the fact that these two are demons and I have just given both permission to attack me physically on sanctified land.

I feel no fear. In these moments I accept my fate with calm resolve. I have messed up, there is no way I can beat a fallen angel in a physical fight. Nobody can.

I drop my panga and brace for the impact as the demon hurtles towards me with scary focus and sharp precision. My last words are “Take care of my wife and sisters Lord.” It’s all I have time to say before something huge flashes in front of my eyes, connecting with the demon and a powerful gust of wind smacks me backwards into the tall, wet grass behind me.
Michael’s hammer. I just got saved by Michael’s hammer. The Archangel continues to hammer at the invisible dome three kilometers above the small town across the river. Swatting the demon like a fly did not even break his rhythm.

I lie there in the wet grass checking myself for sword cuts or blood, gingerly testing my limbs to see if anything is broken or strained and suddenly my attention is pulled to the remaining demon on the bridge. He now stands on the railing, deciding whether or not to chance an attack and suddenly Gatherer is in front of me, sword drawn, glorious light streaming in every direction, head turned up towards the demon. Even from the back I can see his entire body tense as he waits for the demon to make a move. The demon continues to hurl curses at me, expletives hurtling from his lips like a rabid dog.

Keeping his eyes on the demon, Gatherer turns his face slightly so that I may know that he is speaking to me.
Gatherer:
“Stay behind me. This is not your fight. The might and power of the physical realm have no effect here.”

I reply meekly, filled with shame at my brash foolishness.
Me:
“I am sorry, I messed up”

Gatherer:
“That does not matter. Your heart is filled with fire, such things occur. Stand now and dust yourself off so that you may interrogate our friend up there.”

At first I don’t understand what he means but suddenly he disappears from in front of me and appears behind the demon on the bridge above with his hand firmly clamped on the demon’s neck. The demon is visibly startled and tries to reach backwards but I hear a loud crack, like a gunshot, and realize that Gatherer has broken the demons arm.

Gatherer nods his head at me and I shout my first question.
Me:
“How did you two come across the bridge?”

The demon spits at me in defiance.
Demon:
“YOU WILL FAIL COURIER, FAIL, FAIL, FAIL, F…”

A loud crack as Gatherer blocks an attempted strike by the other arm and breaks it.

Me:
“I command you in the name of Jesus to tell me the truth!”

The demon cannot withstand the compulsion and speaks through clenched teeth, spittle dribbling down his chin.

Demon:
“Each of us were assigned to follow the sons of compassion and war respectively. To stop them from coming here. We could not enter the property to hear what was spoken. Our master will not tolerate failure so we conspired to draw you out and kill you.”

Me:
“Who else has been assigned to the sons of compassion and war?”

Demon:
“Spirits of delay and anxiety on the son of war and a spirit of torment on the son of compassion.”

For the reader:
I have had some amazing visitors upon the land, men and women of great destiny. A man the angels call ‘son of compassion’ visited me the previous day and a man the angels call ‘son of war’ the night preceding this dream.

Gatherer:
“The Holy Spirit has now commissioned angels to both the sons of compassion and war. The spirits will soon be lifted.”

The demon squirms with broken arms cradling one another, Gatherer’s powerful hand clamping the back of his neck. His face has the look of a bully that has finally suffered the humiliation he has so long dished out.

Demon:
“How is it that the Reaper protects the Courier? We were not given this information. Who is this man?”

Gatherer:
“I am not here to protect the Courier, merely to instruct him. You acted as chaff and violated the rules of free will.”

Demon:
“He invited us down. Did you not hear him?”

Gatherer:
“Before that moment, you crossed the bridge illegally. The Ecclesia here has expressly forbidden your entry and you are perfectly aware. Behold the Cherubim at the four corners of this land. Had Michael not expelled your partner, the Cherubim would have brought you before the Father for your final judgement. You would never have succeeded in hurting the Courier in any way whatsoever. Go now and inform your brothers, and take note of the rules of Ecclesiastical authority lest you fall in early judgement.”

Gatherer lets the demon go and it disappears in an instant.

I now hear Uriel behind me as Gatherer appears before me.
Uriel:
“This battle cannot be won with carnal weapons son of sorrow.
Nor can the vision come to pass with your effort. Relax into your role as courier. Record what you see, make the vision plain and spend your time in prayer.”

I start to weep, tears streaming down my face and my nose so clogged that I struggle to speak properly.

Me:
“But… what about the kids that need to be fed, the ministry… responsibilities, the ministry overheads. I can’t just do nothing.”

My body shudders with tears if frustration, I can no longer speak.

Uriel:
“Let others run with those responsibilities son of sorrow. Make the vision plain so that the saints may provide the resources but do not burden yourself. Those around you will run with the vision. Hear now the words of Gatherer.”

Gatherer:
“When a man gives his steps to be ordered by God, he need only do his part. No more. Some cook, some clothe, some preach, some do all three. If all three are a man’s part then all three will be easy and effortless. Stay within the will of God, do as the son has spoken but do that which fills your heart. That which requires might and power will always be tainted by the spirit of Mammon. That which is submission to the Holy Spirit will always produce the fruit of the Spirit.

Heed these words son of sorrow: Things built with might and power will bring slavery and destruction. The yoke must be easy, the burden light. Do not force things with might and power. Walk in the spirit. For that which is spirit is spirit and that which is flesh is flesh. Walk in the spirit!”

Both Gatherer and Uriel disappear and I don’t wake up.
I walk back to the caravan, change my wet clothes and go to sleep.