Enjoy Your Heaven

Another dream…


In this one, I am a woman in her late twenties to mid thirties. I have been chosen, randomly, to help out with an emergency procedure, pulled off the street by a nurse- 
To help her complete an abortive procedure on a woman, because the attending physician was suddenly not there.
(I was not told why.) I told her that I could not do it; but she didn’t care. I was told I would go to prison, if I did not.

She directed me to a sink in the room, where the blood and body parts of the now-dead baby was being pulled out of the woman’s womb by some kind of sucking tube. She told me to keep the pump going manually, so the procedure could continue. I tried, thinking I could do it if it was just blood, but when I seen a tiny foot and a hand come out into the sink, I froze. The pump stopped, and the nurse then yelled at me to continue. But I couldn’t. It was as if the muscles in my arm simply couldn’t do it anymore. She continued to yell at me, until she paused and waited for me to respond. I simply held out my hands to her, and with a sad and sorry expression on my face, I told her that I HAD told her that I could not do it.

She gave a hefty sigh of great disgust, took the pump from me, and then shoved me towards the woman, telling me to stay with her and keep her calm.

When I moved past the blue surgical privacy screen to where the woman’s head was, I gasped with shock. This was no woman! She was just a girl, maybe six or seven years old, at the most.

I went up to her, and put her hand in mine. She was as white as death, gaunt, bruised, and very very weak.

Her long blonde hair framed her face, and was tucked under the blanket with the rest of her. One look at her face, and I knew that at one time, she would have been quite beautiful.

At the touch of my hand, her eyes fluttered open, and focused on me. But then she looked all around the room, and then said out loud “this is heaven?”

I told her no, and then asked her why she thought she might be in heaven, and with her simple child voice, she said, “because that is where I will go when I die.”

She then told me, that she expected heaven, because her heart had just stopped beating. (Which meant, to her, that she was now dead.)

At that moment, the heart monitor went still and straight, indicating that her heart had indeed, just stopped.

I yelled out to the nurse at the other end, that the girl was dying, and that she should come right away, to help her live.

But the nurse yelled back at me to wait; that she was almost done with the procedure, and would come help then. I tried to tell her that it would be too late, but she ignored me.

Just then, the girl said very softly, that she was getting cold, and then I watched as her head fell to one side, and she snored two small light breaths of sleep, and then stilled. Her chest rose no more, and I knew that she was dead.

I watched, as her now unencumbered spirit rose up into the air that filled the small room. I seen her now-beautiful face turn to me with a smile, and in my mind, I heard her tell me, “Oh! THIS is heaven!”, as she drifted through the rooms ceiling.  And onward to her peaceful eternity.

“Enjoy your heaven,” I told her with a whisper, as I waved goodbye to her with my hand.

The nurse rushed back to where I was, shoved me out of her way, assessed the girl, realized she had died, and then yelled at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was dying!?!”

I frowned, confused. “But I DID try to tell you!”

At this she became enraged, yelled at me at the top of her lungs and then pushed/threw me out of the clinic, and back onto the street, telling me and everyone else in hearing distance, that I was incompetent, stupid, and worthless.

She went back into the clinic, and I slowly turned to go back home.

I then woke up.
In the dream, I realized that she had been battered and raped by a family member – her father?- and that this was all she knew of life. She had no one to love her anymore, and she was looking forward to dying and going to heaven, for an angel had appeared to her, and told her to just hang on, and then soon, she would be with him in paradise.

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The Free Gift Of Food

Another dream…


In this one,
I am a single woman in her mid thirty’s or so,
In a group of maybe fifty or so people.
In my other life, (when things were normal,)
I used to be a nurse/caregiver/systems administrator of some kind,
Or at least in that kind of field.

But that life had passed, and now survival was what was most important.

Our little group was isolated somehow,
The weather was temperate, and the sun seemed to be always shining.
We had water to drink, but no food.

People were fighting and killing each other,
Over just the thought of a tiny scrap of food.

Seeing this, caused anger to well up from within me,
For I knew it was unnecessary and a complete waste.

I tried to stop them from bickering,
But no one would listen to me.

So, disgusted, I turned and left the group,
Grabbed a small hand shovel, a gun, some bowls, and a flat gardening cart,
And went off a short ways and began to pray to Jesus.

The Holy Spirit soon led me to a place not too far,
Where the ground still had some vegetation growing from it,
And as I prayed, the Holy Spirit led me to pull up some of the vegetation.
He blessed me with potatoes and carrots.

I cooked them, divided them into individual servings,
A half of a potato, and a small baby carrot sitting on top of it, sat in each bowl.
I filled up the bowls and the cart the best I could,
And with one hand I pulled the cart towards the group of fighting people, and with the other, I held a bright silvery shiny hand gun.

They smelled the food first, and came towards me,
With crazed eyes and open mouths.

The closest ones were about to fall upon the cart and eat everything on it,
When I pointed my gun on them, and told them that I would shoot them if they did.

This caused them to pause. I could tell what they were thinking; was her gun really loaded? Would she really shoot me if it was?

I then told them that there was enough food for everyone,
But that we all had to take our turns eating, and that the children and those weakest,
Would eat first.

They argued with me, claiming there was not that many bowls on the cart to feed everyone. But I told them that there was more where that came from, and that they would simply have to trust me, or face my gun.

Others upon hearing this, (especially the men who had children,) helped to keep everyone there under control, which allowed me to distribute the food on the cart to the mother’s first, making sure they gave it to their children and not themselves, and then giving it to those too weak to move.

I then went back and made more of the potatoes and carrots, and I even found and added in a spoonful of some kind of milk or creamer, with a sprinkling of some kind of dried seasoning (parsley?) on top. The people mashed them all together, till it smelled and tasted like mashed potatoes.

I kept doing this, till everyone had eaten. I then ate some myself.

This caused some to be upset, and claimed that I must have eaten a double portion.
But I told them that I had not yet eaten, so they let me eat a serving myself.

This process took the whole day.

This became a routine for me; I got up in the morning, gave thanks and praise to my God Jesus, went to where He led me, pulled up the roots that he told me to grab a hold of, and then baked the carrots and potatoes, and sprinkled more of the powder on it, and gave it to all to eat.

There were times when I would give my portion to someone else who needed it more, and this caused others around me to become distrustful of me. So the group made sure that there was always an assistant with me. I thought it was to help me, but in reality, it was to make sure I wasn’t eating more than my fare share.

I remember telling one of these helpers, a girl a bit younger than I, that I found it ironic, that in my other life, I had been overweight, and had tried so very hard to loose weight, but could not, and that it was this extra weight that had allowed me to survive for so long.

The helpers lost interest, when they realized that I was not stealing extra food, and that I was indeed telling the truth.

Before I gave the food to the people, I would ask them to please join hands, and then I’d lead them in prayer, thanking Jesus for the food, and then blessing it. This was not always easy, as they all gathered themselves on the long rows of picnic benches to eat, and those farther away could not hear me speak.

Those who were closer to me, quickly complied, but those farther away from me, (ones who had trouble hearing me,) did not. This bothered me, but I didn’t know what else I could do to make them comply. I had decided that all my prayers to Jesus, would be out loud for anyone to hear, and in this way, I would be a living example of my faith in Christ. I figured that seeing this, others too, would be drawn to Christ.

But so far it wasn’t working out that way.
There was just one of my assistants, who at my insistence, tried to pray to Jesus and then listen to the Holy Spirit, while searching for food, but she kept pulling up weeds and soon gave up.

Our group of people kept slowly growing and growing, as more people would stumble into our camp. Most who did, were too weak to do anything except accept the free gift of food given to them in grateful astonishment.

Until one day, a young man, a stranger to our group, stumbled upon me digging up the food from the ground. I could tell he had journeyed long, and he was crazed from lack of food. I tried to promise him that he would get some of the food, but he refused to even listen to me. I pulled out my gun, (still always kept by my side,) but even the sight of this did not stop him. He pulled out a knife and ran towards me. I shot him in self defense, hoping the bullet would slow but not kill him. But he had also managed to injure me, before the others had arrived. They quickly overpowered the young man, and disarmed him. They then tended to our wounds. 

I could hear some of them talking to the new guy, telling him how wrong he was, and that I would have defended his right to eat with my own life. I could hear the disgust in their voices, as they confronted his disbelief. His fighting was ‘such a waste’, as they put it. The man could hardly take in what was being told to him. So, many of the other newer members of our group, came to him to share with him how I had given each of them, a stranger, free food. He simply couldn’t believe it all. Why would the woman so freely give to him?

I had wanted to speak up, and tell him that it was because of Jesus, but I found I could not, due to my injury.

I heard them then, tell the man, that it was simply what I did, and that that was the way I was.

My heart ached then, hearing this. What happened to Jesus? Did these people really think that it was all me and not God? I heard a moaning sound of grief, and realized it must have come from me. Another more specialized in first aid suddenly turned and came up to me to examine me closer. When she spoke, her voice sounded very concerned. “Guys…she needs help! Hey! I need help here!”

It was the last thing I heard before loosing consciousness.
I then woke up.
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