I had a dream in the wee hours of this morning (September 17, 2009). When I awoke—the time was 2:45 a.m.
I dreamed that God (or Jesus) and I were standing side by side looking down from a mountain at a huge picture of all of the people in the world. He told me that He took me up on this mountain so that I could see what He saw. The thing is that I could only see the picture as pixilated. And every individual pixel was partially fragmented in some way. One pixel would be shattered at the top, one on one side, one on the other side, some with a middle burst of fragmentation, some fragmented sporadically, but most had some solid, whole aspect to the pixel. Only a very few of the pixels were totally shattered. The fragmented parts of each pixel seemed weak, wavering; the greater the fragmentation, the more the fragmented parts appeared to be causing the pixel to be about to fall out of the picture.
Then He asked me: Which of these pixels would you take out of the picture, since each one of these pieces that make the picture whole have a problem? Would you toss the bad ones out? Would you try to work your PhotoShop magic and borrow color and pixilation from the other pixels to repair the fragmented ones? If you took away from one to make the other whole, what would you have? If you just did a copycat of the whole parts instead, would you have the ‘real thing’ in the one that you copycatted? What would you do, Drucella?
I remember feeling sick to my stomach in the dream, so sad that I just wanted to weep, and completely helpless to make the right choice. I don’t know, God. I can’t fix it, I remember crying out with tears streaming down my face.
You are right; you can’t fix it; you can only bring the news to those who will hear, He said with a raspy voice. I looked, and tears were streaming down His cheeks as well.
This is a broken and pixilated world. Each pixel is a person. The people of this world walk along the course of this world according to the prince of the air. He stopped speaking, and we continued looking over the mountainside and weeping.
One day, for each pixel that chooses, I will make that pixel completely whole.”And I could see His Hand move like a terrible wave over the earth. Some pixels remained and became whole and solid. Other pixels fell off into this never-ending, dark abyss.
But for right now, for today, I’ve sent the Great Intercessor, the One who is willing to stand in the gaps of each broken pixel, giving it solidness, strength to hold together, preventing it from falling.
This time, He actually moved His Hand over the earth again, and it was as though a gentle breeze went over the face of the earth. The thing is that the breeze was light, a beautiful bright white, pure light—not harsh and glaring—but not wavering either, solid and real. It wasn’t a fast moving wave of breeze and light. Rather it hovered over the earth as though it was waiting.
The little pixels could see the light coming. Some seemed to grow larger, to stretch toward the light, to reach for it. For those, it seemed as though the light enveloped them and a soft breeze refreshed them. As they stretched to the light, their little fragmented selves seemed to “solid-up.” You could see what appeared to be a wholeness, a beauty really, about each one of them.
Others seemed to start to stretch, then slump down again, stretch again, slump down again, and this dance continued over and over until either they stayed stretched long enough to get enveloped with light and refreshing, or they just fell back down to the earth all fragmented and broken.
Others, yet, never seemed to even move toward the cool, refreshing light. Almost, it seemed as though some even reached their little fragmented pieces and shook themselves threateningly at the light. In the end, those fell to the earth, shattered and broken.
The light hovered over the earth for what seemed like an infinitesimal amount of time.
When the giant wave came, dark and terrible, thundering from the mountainside, a roaring wind blowing over the face of the earth, those pixels that had reached for the light, that had become more whole and together, suddenly became so solid, so strong and immovable, so invincible, so . . . I just can’t describe it, but it was so beautiful, so wondrous, so beyond anything that I could possibly state in words. And these pixels just seemed to be sucked up into the wind. I could almost see them—even now it makes me want to shout and cry at the same time. They just all went right up into His Arms, into the Father’s bosom. It was awesome, to terribly beautiful to behold. In my sleep, I felt as though I had stopped breathing; it was so . . . I just can’t describe it.
Equally terrible but horrifying rather than beautiful was the fate of those pixels that were shattered and broken, that had remained on the ground. They, also, were swept away, but not into His beautiful, sweet, sheltering bosom. Instead, they were swept off the earth much like one sweeps dirt off the doorstep. They were swept into this dark chasm, into this seemingly endless void. The strange thing is that as much as the other moving of the pixels into the wind awed me and took my breath away, this seemed to move me very little when it was actually happening. I had no fear, only a deep melancholy, and that only for a moment.
Then, I was so taken over with joy, so, as C. S. Lewis says, “surprised by joy,” that I could hardly move, breathe, or even think. It was as though my whole being was lifted up in this supernatural joy. Oh, if I could have just stayed in that embrace.
Then He grasped my shoulders and moved me away from His embrace. I stood there, His Hands on my shoulders, trying to look up into His face. He was HUGE, and WONDERFUL, and BRIGHT,PURE WHITE LIGHT; there was no face, no being, yet HE WAS ALL BEING. I just can’t explain it. And His voice boomed at me, shook me, shook the bed, the room, the house:
GO AND TELL THE NEWS—THE GOOD NEWS.