Heaven’s Tour Bus


I dreamed that I boarded a tour bus, and I sat right up front so I could see everything up close.

First stop was at an enormous shopping mall. There were halls upon halls filled with little specialty stores. Each boutique was unique from the other, and displayed items from a place and time in history. Every place in the world had their own ‘wing’ of shopping stores, and each store represented a different time in its history. Every place and time was covered, from cave man to the future. Anything you desired could be had. All you had to do was ask the store clerk, and they then gave it to you.

The mall was crowded with many different people going in and out of the stores with their packages and purchases, each one smiling and enjoying themselves as they went about their business. But no one seen us or looked at us. It was as if we were invisible to them. They seen the tour guide angels, but they must have sensed that they were not alone, and so they stayed out of their way.

As I watched it all, my mind could hardly grasp all the choices before me. I knew it would take a lifetime to explore all the little stores. And oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to explore them someday with my mother?

Just then, I seen someone walk by me, holding an old book open to their reading page, with a beautiful Celtic bookmark, hand-painted and stamped with gold leaf.

“Oh!” I exclaimed to my tour guide, “I’d like to have one of those!” And just then, someone else walked by from the other direction with a beautiful hair clip holding back her hair. It would be perfect for my friend. “And one of those,” I said. I turned to my guide. “Where is the store that has those?”

The guide told me it was in a different wing of the mall, and that we did not have time to go there on this tour. “Come,” the guide said to me, “we must go.”

“Wait!” I exclaimed, “couldn’t I just go into this store to get the bookmark? It’s right here in front of us.”

But the angel guide nearest to me shook its head no. “It will be delivered to you,” he said, and then we turned and got back into the tour bus.

After driving some distance, we suddenly came upon a valley as big as the Grand Canyon, with a cliff just as steep. The bus lurched out and downwards, and I screamed as I watched the earth come up to me. We tumbled, and then stopped for a moment, to see if everyone was still O.K.

Shaken but unharmed, we continued on into the depths of this valley, till we reached a small settlement of people, camped out by a big red rock. It was dry here, but pleasantly so, with the sun bright overhead, but without the searing heat. There was a light breeze blowing about, which made it a very pleasant day. Perfect picnic weather, I thought.

As I came closer, I could see the people walking about and going on about their business. They had trailer homes, propped up around each other, so they could all be together. Then, as I came close to one of them, one with a white sunshade propped up and out and a picnic table beneath it, my eyes caught a familiar sight and I stumbled.

“Is that my Father?” I whispered to the guide. I doubted it was, even though it looked exactly like him when he was in his twenties, for this man was laughing and smiling, something I had rarely seen my father do. He was talking and listening to the others around him tells him their stories, and him sharing his with them.

“Yes,” the angel answered me, “it is your father. But you must not stare at him, for that would cause him to notice you, and he is not to know right now that you are here.”

Oh! To turn my eyes away from his peaceful smiling face took everything I had in me. But I obeyed the angel, and looked away.

Our bus continued on again, and made it’s way to another grand canyon. When we came to the sharp drop again, I knew then what was in store for us, and I started to pray over and over again, “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!” till suddenly we were riding on the bottom of the canyon again. The angel must have seen the confusion on my face, for it explained to me, “this canyon is easier to access.”

This time, we rode on, till we came to a larger community, all green covered land, and mild temperatures, with little high-rises all around. Each rise, had everything that was needed in its building. The high rise was filled with people; many of them single women, all in the prime of their lives.

Then the tour guide talks to the building manager, and then the manager gives a nod, and leads us to a small room in one of the high rises. I enter and quietly look around.
The place reminded me of a laundry room, with washing machines lined up on one side of the room, while the other side had tables for one to sit upon and sort their laundry. I frowned in confusion, still not understanding. Why bring me here? I knew there must be something special about this room; I just wasn’t catching it.

Then I looked upwards to the wall and seen it.

My Mother’s cross-stitch. My mother’s ceramics. Her art work, up on the walls of the laundry room. I thought, “oh! How sweet of them to let my mother hang her work here!”
I looked closer, and seen there were several different small banners in cross-stitch, that had a date, name, and an emblem on it. Other ceramics that hung on the wall (bird, flower, bunny, dove, etc.,) was inscribed with a person’s name & date. There were several ones there with her name on it, among the other names on the wall. The manager told me the other names were Mom’s friends.

When I understood that, I looked around at the machines and wondered why heaven would even need washing machines. Then the angel stepped in and told me that these washing machines were different than the ones I knew of. These didn’t just clean dirt from clothes; they removed emotional stuff from things and cleaned it of all resentment, anger, bitterness, etc., anything that was un-Christ-like. An item could be put in the washer, and as a blinding white light would swirl in and around it, the person ‘washing their dirty laundry’, would sit at one of the tables and tell God all about their resentment, anger, bitterness, etc., and then leave those emotions with Him. The item associated with the ‘stuff’, then comes out clean and free of all ‘dirt’ and made new again.

My mother’s work, hanging on the walls, commemorated these events. Each piece of work had the person’s first name on it, along with the date. The last item on the banner or artwork was a symbol of what took the place of the ‘stuff’. The ceramics was the symbol itself, and had the person’s name etched into it, along with the date on the back of it.

How ironic! I had thought that God would somehow forcefully remove it (anger, resentment, etc.,) from a person, before letting them go through the gates of heaven. After all, I figured, why would God ever let such dirt into heaven? If He did, then it wouldn’t be heaven then anymore, would it?

But I was wrong. God does let it into heaven. He doesn’t forcefully remove it from the person. Instead, He waits for the person to get tired of the ‘dirt’ first, and then helps them to remove it. The tour guide told me that emotional ‘Dirt’ up in heaven, really stands out. It hinders the person’s joy in heaven, so one is naturally drawn to having it washed. When the spirit of God washes and purifies it, it enables them to let go of the negative emotions, which feels good and gives them more joy. All this takes place as commonly as we do our laundry down here on earth. (And mind you, unlike here, a person’s ‘stuff’ is seen as being quite separate from the people themselves!)

I was sitting on the bench and starring at my Mother’s work that hung upon the walls, when I seen my Mother walk in.

She was young and beautiful again, just like her pictures of when she was a young woman.

I quick looked at the angel again, to see if I could acknowledge her, and the angel nodded a yes.

Mom sat down beside me, and we turned to each other and held each other in our arms.
I was crying, and finding it hard to speak.

“Oh Mom,” I said, in a release of breath, “I’m so glad they’re letting me be with you!”
I wanted to tell her, all about my fears and second-guesses, of asking God to take her home to heaven, instead of having her hang on in pain down here. But in a sudden flash of realization, I sensed it wasn’t necessary, and that Mom fully understood and was glad that I had answered the way I had.

But then I found myself admitting something to her that I had not even voiced to myself down on earth. Something far deeper and uglier.

“Oh Mom,” I cried, still in her arms, “you want to know what’s really awful? If I had known just how hard and painful it would be for me without you, I would have never asked God to bring you to heaven!”

And at this, I cried more, and felt all my shame at this ugly truth revealed. I had expected her to turn away with disgust, once she realized how very self-centered and selfish I really was inside. (To think of keeping her here with me simply for my own comfort, even though it would cause her such pain!)

But she didn’t. She simply held me as I cried, and whispered words of comfort to me. “Sh, there, there, it’s O.K., I understand. It’s O.K.”

I stayed there, in her embrace; till I could feel some of her calm and peace blanket my own soul. I breathed a sigh of relief, as the last sobs racking my body faded away.
Then I looked up, to see her leaving, just like how a mother tiptoes out of her child’s room after finally getting them back to sleep. Only she wasn’t tiptoeing, she was walking, and I wasn’t quite asleep yet.

I was about to ask the angel why she could not stay longer, when the angel told me that she needed to get back to her crafts, for it was time for one of her ceramic pieces to come out of the kiln.

I got up then, and turned to the angel, thinking we would get back on the tour bus, for I was now eager to see more. But the angel let me know that the tour had ended, and with a gentle lift of her hand, I was sent back to earth and then I woke up.



Rev. 21:4-5, KJV “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new…”


The Spirit of Christmas

I was shopping in a store that was going out of business. I found many good deals of things we had been needing for a long time so my bags were full. As I was leaving the store, I seen an older man off to one side, about thirty feet from me. He looked like a shady stranger that one would try to avoid at all costs to be safe.

When he seen me, his eyes lit up and he said “Wow, I see you bought someone lucky so many presents for Christmas this year! They are going to be filled with the spirit!” It was hard to hear him, for he was mumbling and far away from me. But I understood the gist of it.

As soon as he finished speaking, I seen three shadowy demons come out of him and try to tag themselves onto me.

“Oh no!” I responded under my breath, “these things are not for Christmas! There will be none of that in my house!”

And as soon as I stopped speaking, I seen the demons pause, and then heard them whine and complain and tell me that I was no fun, before they turned and raced back into the man who had spoken to me.

My son came with me into the next store, and as we walked in I almost stumbled. The sudden weight was so oppressive that it was hard for me to walk. I had to bind it up in the name of Jesus to continue. We could hear the Christmas music blaring overhead and it reminded me of a nasty swarm of stinging insects. The place was very busy and overcrowded, and everywhere I looked I could see the colors of red and green.

We picked up the item we had come for and went to stand in line.

People were in a foul mood, angry at having to wait for so long in line to make their holiday purchases. Many were second guessing their purchases while they waited, verbally wondering out loud if so and so would like it or not.

As we left, my son told me that he had been hit with the demon of ‘I have to buy something’ really hard, but he refused to give into it and so he bought nothing.

We realized that was where the pressure was coming from; all the demons of ‘I want’, ‘me me me’, ‘whine’, ‘complain’, ‘less money’, ‘more debt’, ‘I have to buy’, ‘doubt’, ‘mine’, ‘more’, ‘should’, ‘spend’, ‘pressure’, ‘expectations’, and ‘failure’. The store was literally overflowing with demons!

We also realized that all these demons were under the authority of a principality demon called the spirit of Christmas.

We went to a food truck to bring back dinner, and there I met a man while waiting in line who was telling me of some job opportunities. He had been unemployed for a few weeks and had been praying that he would find a good job.

So I said to him, “May the Lord bless you and give you the job of your dreams!”

He starred at me for a second and then said “Oh! You’re a Christian!” Then he paused for a moment before asking me “Do you go to a church around here?”

“No,” I told him. “We have yet to find one that sticks to the bible.”

He then went on and on about the church he goes to and how magnificent his pastor was. He went on and on so much about the man, that I couldn’t help but wonder if the man was closer to his pastor than he was to Jesus.

I grew tired of hearing about the perfect pastor, so I interrupted him and asked “Do they celebrate Christmas there?”

I will never forget the look on his face; It blatantly said “well, duh! Of course!,” but to the man’s credit, he then blinked and said “yes.”

“Oh,” I said. “Never mind then.”

He frowned. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

I could see the thought that a believer in Jesus Christ that does not celebrate the holly day was a new encounter for him. So I told him, “We researched into it and found that it had too many pagan ties to it. We also found that there were so many demons attached to it that we stopped celebrating it.”

“Oh,” he said, and said nothing more.

I looked at him and realized that this was a man who had no idea of the war that raged all around him. As he said his goodbye and we exchanged blessings with each other, I inwardly cringed. It was like watching an innocent walk back into the slaughter, wondering when he would get hit.

When we got back home, we immediately noticed that things felt lighter. I asked my husband about it, and he too, said he noticed that there was less pressure in the house. He then sheepishly told me that he had finally gotten around to bringing that nativity scene to the dump, and that this is why the atmosphere was so much lighter in the house.


Please don’t just continue to blindly follow the world in celebrating this pagan holiday, and then wonder why you are having problems. The Lord is very clear in His word that we are to have nothing to do with mixing pagan practices with His worship. When we do, problems arise. There are only two instances when a person’s birthday was celebrated in the bible, and both of those times were by pagan kings. But if you really want to celebrate His birthday, celebrate it during the feast of Tabernacles, when we celebrate that the Lord has come to live with us. If giving up Christmas is just too hard for you to do, consider celebrating Hanukkah with its seven candled menorah. There one has several days where one shares the miracles that the Lord has done in their lives and their families lives with one another.

May the Lord bring you into His perfect peace,
C. Dunamis

(Note: For scriptures on this, see the post on how satanists celebrate Christmas.)


Seeing My Mother On Mother’s Day

(I am hesitant to share this post, but the Lord is telling me that there is someone out there who needs to hear it…)

May 13th, 2007 Mother’s Day.

I seen my mother last night in a dream. (She has been dead now for many years.)

I was crying,
Over the stress in my life,
When I said out loud,
(still in my dream,)
“I wish my mother was here!
She’d know just what to say,
To make me feel better!”

And then suddenly,
There she was,
Before me,
With her arms open wide,
Welcoming me back in.

“Oh Mom!” I said to her, still crying,
(But now they were tears of relief,)
I’ve missed you SO MUCH!”

She wrapped her arms around me
Tightly, hugging me back.

She looked younger and full of vitality,
But I knew she was still the same mom that I knew.
I spoke to her about the problems,
And told her of my fears.

“Oh my child,” she said to me in response,
“It’s O.K.; God has us in His hands…”

I sensed that she spoke
Of the time line of eternity,
With ‘us’
Being the line of our family,
Which included my husband
And my children.

I then spent some time there
within her embrace,
soaking up the memories
of what it feels like
to hold her and touch her again.
I breathed in her comfort,
For I knew it might be a long time,
Before I’d get to see her again.

When my spirit was comforted
And at peace,
She left my presence.

I then,
Still in my dream,
Got down on my knees
Right where I was,
And spoke out loud to my God,
Thanking Him
For letting me see and be
With my mother again.

I then woke up.


God can send His comfort to us in ways we least expect…


2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (KJV) “Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.”

Deuteronomy 31:8 (KJV) “And the Lord, he it is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed.”