From my book Kingdom Lessons Two 

Dreamed on December 20^th, 2015.

 

I awoke late this morning, as I was up in the middle of the night, filling orders for A Grain of Wheat books. The dream was strange. It started with me driving alone on a ministry trip to another state. The season seemed to be spring or early summer. After supper, while driving, through a small town, the Holy Spirit told me to stop at a certain church. I went inside and was greeted by a few people. I thought that I might have a word, but I just listened to the sermon. I can’t remember a word of it, but I liked the preacher. He had dark hair which was starting to gray. While being slightly plump, he was not overly so, and was wearing a light pastel shirt with a string tie and dark slacks. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and the eyes seemed to bulge out when he peered through the glasses. His wife was a short, slightly stooped lady of about fifty, with dyed dishwater blond hair, who wore little make-up but still possessed a modicum of her youthful attractiveness.

Following snacks in the church basement, we all gathered outside, to watch the stars, listen to birds and crickets and chatter amongst ourselves. Suddenly I noticed my car had started to drive off. It had been parked only a short distance away. My fingers fumbled in my pockets, and I found that I still had my car keys. I began to walk over towards my car as a few of those I had been conversing with followed me to the grassy over-fill parking lot. A large muscular black man with a wide nose, wearing a black suit with a fancy black T-shirt-like pullover and a black fedora, eased out of the car. I yelled, “Did I give you permission to drive my car?  How did you start it?  I have my keys in my pocket.”  He looked at me as if I were an annoying gnat and stalked into the darkness without uttering a word. He disappeared into the inky blackness of the night. I never saw him again.

I asked those who were standing with me who he was and why he would have been in my car. One of the bystanders replied, “I don’t know him. He is the friend of a friend of the pastor’s family. The pastor’s friend is   here and is a really likable fellow. I can introduce you to him.”

I replied, “If he is an associate of that fellow is that really a good idea?”

A lady standing next to the man who had been talking interjected, “You don’t even know the guy. Don’t you think that is judgmental?  Is it because he is black?”

“I have a saying that I feel very strongly about,” I replied. “My belief is that the ‘C’ word should not be color but character. I don’t care about a person’s skin color. It is not his black skin that concerns me. My sense, and I am usually fairly accurate in that gift, is that he is a dangerous man and that he is not afraid to break the law. Somehow he started my car without using my keys. That took the skills of a locksmith or a car thief!”

The lady replied, “I knew it!  You are just judgmental! You don’t even know that man and you are accusing him of being evil. I’m leaving!”

She and a few other persons left my group. The man, who told me about the pastor’s friend, beckoned for me to follow him. He took me to the guest house. I can’t remember the man’s name who I was to be introduced to, but I will call him Owen because he looked like a young Owen Wilson, (the famous comedy and drama actor).

When the man knocked on the door, we heard a voice call to us, “I’m in the basement. Come on down.”  Unlike the clean and finished basement of the church, the basement of the guest house was a tiny, dingy, cobwebbed one-room affair with water-stained cement walls. Owen was putting water in a blue children’s pool. He had several baby otters that he kept calling “my kids.”  After he played with them for a minute or two, he said, “Let’s go upstairs.”  My initial worry that he was an evil, dangerous man like his friend changed. The sense which I had was that he was a very affable fellow who made friends easily. That said, I had the feeling that he had a very sensual nature and indulged in many sins, but was overall a decent young man, yet having a closet full of secrets.

When we arrived back upstairs, he offered us refreshments and we talked. I told him that his friend had moved my car without permission. When confronted, he had ignored me. He also disappeared into the night without saying a word when I asked him how he had moved my car and why. I also told Owen that his friend walked like a panther, and in my opinion, was a dangerous man.

Owen shrugged his shoulders and smiled a winning smile. “That’s just blank. I have no idea why he moved your car. That he could start it without keys doesn’t surprise me. He doesn’t talk much, can be arrogant, and is a man of many talents. I think of him as my voluntary bodyguard. Yes, if you cross him, he can be a very lethal opponent.”

Scene fade.

Several months later, I was passing through on business. I decided to stop into the church. The pastor and his wife were having a garden party in their back yard. The pastor had just finished washing a red and white vintage car with fins.

I am not one of those guys who knows cars. I thought I remembered that it was a ‘57 Chevy or Buick. I did a Google search when I came to writing this part of the dream, and this car picture came up. It looks like the car in my dream.

Anyway, the pastor’s wife came up after greeting a new group of guests. She said, “My husband has always dreamed about this car. And then our friend Owen traded it to us for a debt. We got it for a song!  That Owen is just the nicest guy. By the way he was asking about you. He is at his girlfriend’s house now. They’ll be at the party any minute.”

We walked over to the party. Suddenly, I had a word from the Lord. I said, “The Lord just told me that we are all in danger. We need to leave.”

The pastor and his wife looked at me in shock. The same lady who had chided me for being judgmental during my first visit snapped, “Here we go again!  I don’t know how Pastor blank and his wife put up with you. How rude!  Just who do you think you are, a newcomer, just up and giving us a so-called word of the Lord. Hello! We are Christians having a party! You can’t talk to us like that!”

Just then Owen and his girlfriend arrived. When she stepped out of her luxurious azure Porsche Cayman, I could plainly see that she was an attractive bleached blond cheerleader type with a taste for the finer things of life. My guess was that, by personality, she was a Miss Congeniality. She was, I surmised, a spoiled “daddy’s girl,” but a caring and kind, if not always wise young lady. I also knew that she and Owen were husband and wife but that they had just not gotten around to taking care of the legalities of the situation. I don’t know what her name was, but we’ll call her Zena.

After they had come over to greet us, mention was made of my comment that we were all in danger and that we had to leave. For just a moment, it looked like Owen turned white, but then his charming smile came out and he made a comment about being safe at God’s house.

His girlfriend, Zena, chimed in and gave a spiel that Jesus loves us and won’t let anything happen to us. She was one of those people who can’t talk without flipping her hands all over. I had the feeling that Zena was a very sweet and kind girl, but that the Holy Spirit had convicted her many times about things she shouldn’t or should be doing, but that she had a habit of rationalizing away His still, small voice.

I replied, “It is possible I misheard, but it seemed very clear. I don’t know why, but I really feel that we are in danger. I do know this, if we think the Lord warns us about danger and we misheard, but our heart is right, it won’t count against us for taking precautions. On the other hand, if He warns us and there is real danger and we ignore that warning, we can walk out from under His protection. If we are in danger and we don’t leave, maybe the Lord will protect us. Or maybe when we should have died, we’ll be injured, but live. If we are His children and we do die because we didn’t heed His warning, we do get to go be with Him.”

Zena briskly nodded her head from side to side and then countered, “I don’t believe that about walking out of the Lord’s protection. Maybe you don’t trust God. I love Jesus. Jesus loves me. I’m way past worrying about such things. I know my Bible, and I know my Jesus.” She snorted, “I am not going to die!  I am going to be blessed!” Zena paused and then sang that old Pentecostal chorus, “No weapon formed against me’s gonna prosper! Every weapon formed against me’s gonna fail!”

The pastor’s wife added, “I must say that I thought your statement was a bit bold. However, I must agree that if one has been given a word from the Lord and it really seems to be the Lord, you had better be obedient and give it.”

The pastor simply said, “My wife is right.”

Just then, the phone in the guest house rang. Owen  sprinted that way, then turned around. He exclaimed, “Hey! You have to come see the kids!  They’ve grown up since you have seen them.”

I grimaced at the delay in leaving but followed him. Rather than being in the basement as they had been when I had last visited, the otters were upstairs playing in the blue kiddie pool when I followed Owen through the door. Owen’s otters were fewer in number. but indeed, had grown up!

Owen grabbed the phone and lifted it from the cradle. Once the connection was opened a gravelly voice yelled so loudly that Owen  could not hold the speaker near his ear. “Owen you dumb-****. This is Farelli! It’s about time you answered the phone. Mr. Carliano just lent you that car. It wasn’t yours to give away, u’pazzo! (Italian for idiot) This is the last time you’ll betray us, you little pretty boy bast***. Mr. Fix It, the Repo Man, is coming over to collect it, boombots (slang for idiot). I’m on my way, so don’t run…”

Owen turned ghostly white, dropped the phone receiver, which bounced and then swung back and forth  like a hangman’s noose under a gallows on a windy day. Owen gave me one panic-stricken look as he dashed out the back door.

Once the initial shock left me, I turned around and went back to the garden party. I told the pastor and his wife about the conversation and that Owen had taken off running out the back door. At first, they didn’t want to believe me. The pastor’s wife vehemently defended Owen’s character and couldn’t believe that their friend could be associated with a local gangster.

Zena chimed in, “It’s true!   Owen has been good friends with that Carliano gangster for several years. They partied a lot.”  She paused and then continued, “I’ve met Mr. Fix It Farelli before. He’s one of Carliano’s consiglieres. Rumor has it that Mr. Fix It was an international mercenary for years before he joined the Carliano crime family. Farelli fancied himself as a Samurai. He favors a katana more than a gun.” Zena paused in her feverish monologue.  She added, madly gesturing with her hands as she talked, “I’m not scared of him!  Jesus will protect me. And besides, I play fantasy role-playing games and I favor the katana myself. And there are ways for an unarmed opponent to disarm an enemy. I have practiced with martial arts and swords and I can defend myself. He’s good, but not that good!”

I had eaten at Carliano’s restaurant a few times, so I offered to drive the car over and give it to him. I was afraid, and yet it felt like the right thing to do if it would help the people of the church. The pastor and his wife hesitated. They decided to go have a private discussion and then get back to me one way or another.

Owen’s girlfriend, Zena, sprinted towards the back of the guest cottage. A few minutes later, the pastor came out and handed me the keys and a document packet which I assume contained the car title. Meanwhile, Owen and Zena stepped out of the guest house. Zena beckoned to me. When I came in, I showed them the keys and the document pouch. Owen asked Zena to follow me over to Carliano’s Night Club and bring me back.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fix It Farelli came in the back door, flourishing his katana. Sleek brown flashes of wet otters jumped from the blue plastic swimming pool, as Owen’s furry “kids,” left water trails along the carpet as they exited the living room, like rats fleeing from a sinking ship. Farelli looked at me, and I recognized him as the doorman of the Italian restaurant, that I had often visited while driving through on business. He looked pale and tired, but he had for all of that the same dangerous look of the black man who had moved my car without permission. I called him by name and said, “Farelli, the pastor here gave me the keys and asked me to take the car and title over to the club. He said no one owes him any money, but in return for him giving your boss the car, he doesn’t want any of his friends hurt.”

Mr. Fix It looked thoughtful for a second. “No offense. I gotta do my business, but I can cut you a deal. The boss likes honor. Looks like you were going to be the go-between to bring back the boss’ ‘57 Chevy. Yes, especially since you are a good customer, he’d like that. Although, I would guess you’ll never eat there again.” He motioned for me to throw him the keys and the document envelope. I tossed them and he deftly caught the swirling flash of silver in his left hand, dropped them in his pocket, and then almost lost, but caught the dark brown document pouch.

Mr. Fix it paused, caught his breath, and after he placed the title in his shirt pocket, coughed once and then continued, “Not Owen though. Just business you understand.” With a quick flourish, the katana expertly slid between two rib bones into Owen’s ribcage, and then snaked back leaving a film of dark black-red blood that stained the long slim, slightly curved, single-edged silver blade.

“You can’t do that!” yelled Zena, as she wind-milled her hands – a foolish habit that was her last mistake. Instinctively Farelli’s  bloody blade slashed and thrust in a defensive counter-move. Shock etched across her modelesque face as her athletic body fell atop of Owen. For all of her earlier bravado, she was dead before her body could react. So much for her claim of being practiced in self-defense.

Mr. Fix It droned sadly, “My apologies. That was,” cough, “an unfortunate accident. I forgot that she talks with her hands. Alla Come Viene, Viene (To do something sloppily, literally “it comes out as it comes out.”)   She was a pretty girl.” Farelli paused in his monologue, coughed, grimaced, and then leaned forward, carefully avoiding Zena’s lifeless form, which was draped over that of her former lover, and wiped his bloody blade against Owen’s shirt sleeve.

Looking up again he continued, “Did I tell you I have inoperable cancer?  The boss, he’s got good lawyers, but I won’t survive the trial. First, the county jail, and then hell. No prison for me.  I want it that way. I am not ready to meet my Maker, Crepi il lupo, (“May the wolf die” – which is to say: “I’m going into the wolf’s mouth, and may he choke on me.”)  I am however, more than ready to serve in Xibalba.”

He held out his blade defensively, as he stepped around me, and then coughed, stopping momentarily to clutch his stomach like an organic one-armed bandit. He wiped bloody spittle, that dripped a few bright red drops onto the corner of the right side of his mouth, with a careful swipe of his powerful left wrist.

Farelli then backed out of the door, walking resolutely towards the ‘57 Chevy. He  passed the well-stocked garden party. Not a soul was present. A cloying spice scent from one of the casseroles mingled with the earthy scent of freshly cut grass which hung around the patio like an invisible cloud.  Ice from the beverage cooler melted in the sun while flies buzzed and crawled among cool hot dishes, wilted red and orange-spotted salads and decadent dessert trays. Fear that had driven the church people from their party still lingered as Fix It Farelli opened the 57 Chevy, gently tossed his sword into the back,  and then eased into the driver’s seat. The engine purred smoothly as Farelli started the car, shifted, eased back the clutch and exited the parsonage driveway.

End Of Dream

While I was looking through the eyes of the main character of the dream, he didn’t seem to look like me. In all honesty, I am not that brave either. The dream was too detailed just to be an anxiety dream. Also, I did use artistic license and added a few Italian phrases and made up a few names, but the dream is pretty much written as I remembered it. I do not know why I didn’t pray during the dream. I may have prayed or talked with the Lord just prior to the first church service. I did hear the Lord speak a few times and felt the gift of discernment operating.

I think these are the lessons that are contained in the dream:

• If you keep asking for a white elephant, you may get it, but there is sorrow added to it.
• Be careful not to idolize something so much that it blinds you or puts you in a bad position.
• Many Christians can quote scripture but do not have the wisdom to understand it properly.
• Jesus loves us, but error in judgment or error in activity can put us in the place where we lose protection or come to the place where our prayers are not answered.
• We must worship the Lord and follow the Lord. If we are not careful we may design an imaginary God, call him Jesus and find we are following a religious spirit.
• If we are not careful, Holy Ghost boldness may become religious audacity.
• While we must be careful not to be judgmental, there are times as we serve the Lord that we must use discernment and make judgments.
• Especially if we are in times or locations of danger, we must be careful to live a holy life. We must not do this independently but with the Lord’s help or we will walk out of the Lord’s protection.
• Our daily decisions to walk in sin, even if we do have a relationship with the Lord, will have an impact on our life. We may suffer as a result of our willfulness or carelessness.
• If we have secret sins, eventually they will trip us up.
• For whatever reason, God has allowed the devil and his army to rule over the kingdoms of this world. Jesus would have told the devil that he was a liar when he was offered the kingdoms of the world, but instead Jesus rebuked the devil for trying to tempt him and steal worship which belonged to God. If we enter into one of the devil’s strongholds, we need to be sure the Lord is sending us, or we may not have the level of protection there, that we think we do.
• Some people won’t listen to reason. You can only warn them. You can’t force them to do or not do something.
• While we need to be careful about giving words or making judgments within the body, if we know the Lord is giving us the information, we need to be obedient.
• If you walk too close to the fire, you will get burned. That is to say, the more time you spend watching evil movies, listening to hell-spawned music or playing in dark kingdom areas of entertainment, the higher the chances that you will be tainted or harmed by it.
• Bad morals corrupt good character. If you hang with the wrong crowd you will become like them.
• There is a big difference between being religious and having a relationship with Jesus Christ.
• Knowing scripture is great, but if you use it merely to justify a behavior, attitude or doctrine, that is not good.
• Also, I believe that many of the characters in the dream had personalities which we find in ourselves, and others we meet in church, whether it is in a traditional church, or a home-based fellowship. For example, the Zena types may have songs and scriptures memorized, but are dead wrong about certain issues, or who think they operate in Holy Ghost boldness, while in actuality they are merely being religiously audacious.

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