In 1997, I had the following dream. I have to say that the effects of this dream left me permanently changed. I will never be the same again, thank God.
I was walking around at an outdoor marketplace. The sky was overcast, and threatening rain. As we rounded the end of a row of tables, I heard something. There was no audible sound, but somehow I heard it. I looked up to the sky, and saw an area of cloud, now the pink color of clouds at sunset, beginning to swirl around, as if a tornado was forming. I knew immediately that it was the rapture. I said the only audible word that was said during the whole dream, “YES!” As the funnel cloud dropped out of the sky, I barely noticed the crowd, but I did notice that almost all of the people around me were frozen – as if time had stopped.
I began first walking, then running towards the tower of cloud. There were a few people doing the same. When I got to within three feet of the cloud, I leapt into it as hard as I could jump.
I found myself rotating in the light, slowly ascending, my arms outstretched, my head thrown back. The light was indescribable. It was brighter than the sun, a brilliant color – the closest I can say is yellow, but it was deeper than that. It was more than light. It was a physical substance. The light was what was lifting us. I somehow knew that I could concentrate on a single cell in my body, and feel the gentle pressure of the light lifting me. My heart was so full of this light, I couldn’t breath, and I could tell my heart was almost bursting with it, but there was no discomfort. With my face turned skyward, I closed my eyes, thrilling in the feeling of the love of Christ, which I instinctively knew was the light. Even with my eyes closed, the light was so bright that I could see the shadows of others being lifted, too.
When I opened my eyes, we were standing together before a barely-visible stand or podium. It was barely visible because there was a gentle fog covering everything. I heard something, not audible, but in my heart. It made my heart leap, and I knew that whatever was just said was me. Not Susan, not sister, daughter, wife, mother. The real me, who I am inside. Somehow, that word encompassed everything about me that was important, real. But for some reason, there is a blankness there in my memory – I have no idea what it sounded like. I held out my hand, and was given a small white stone with writing on it. I can almost see that writing, but it’s as if it is just on the edge of my memory. What was written on that stone was the same word that was spoken, my name.
As dreams will do, I found myself suddenly somewhere else. I was in a small room, sitting on the end of a bed. It was almost like a small hotel room. There was a door and window with closed blinds on my left. Around this door and window, the light that brought me here was shining brightly. I wanted desperately to run through that door, but something held me back.
On the right was another door with no light around it. I walked to the lit door, then knew that I couldn’t go through it, not yet. I turned and walked through the other door.
I was on a long balcony, one with no railing. About two feet below the floor of the balcony was cloud. Someone came up to me. It was an older man, maybe in his 60’s, wearing khaki pants and a plaid flannel shirt. He had a sweet, peaceful face under the fishing hat he was wearing. He smiled at me, and we sat down to talk, our legs kicking up poufs of clouds occasionally. No words were said, just thoughts and feelings from heart to heart. I don’t remember a lot of the conversation. I remember being sad, knowing it was time to go. The man smiled, and I heard a promise that I would be back and never have to leave again. (Again, none of this was audible.) I sighed, and nodded. He bowed his head to pray, putting his hand on my forehead to bless me. I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them in my own bedroom.
What convinces me that it was more than a dream was my reaction. I immediately thought, “NO!” I closed my eyes, hoping I could return. I was in shock. It felt like this world was the dream. Everything looked bland, muted, as if I were looking through a dirty window. The colors were almost gray-scale, they lacked any depth. My house, the whole world, looked two-dimensional, as if my sense of perspective had been skewed. I remember running into the door or wall more than once. This lasted for almost a week.
My heart was full of love and joy, but also full of sadness at having to leave. My emotions were numb. I literally walked around in a daze for three or four days. I didn’t hear people when they spoke to me, and when they got my attention, I had to make an effort to understand them. I looked at my husband and children and felt nothing. The love that I had been shown was so overpowering that my family might as well have been blades of grass. It’s not that I didn’t care about them – but all I wanted was to go back to where I had been. For months, as soon as I turned the car on, I checked the digital compass to see which way east was. I almost had several wrecks, trying to drive and search the eastern sky at the same time. The effects of this dream are still with me, years later.
I have also met one person, and know of at least one more, who, during times of great distress, have seen the same man that I saw. Finally, the first time I was slain in the Spirit, the light I saw was the same light that was in the dream.
I was walking around at an outdoor marketplace. The sky was overcast, and threatening rain. As we rounded the end of a row of tables, I heard something. There was no audible sound, but somehow I heard it. I looked up to the sky, and saw an area of cloud, now the pink color of clouds at sunset, beginning to swirl around, as if a tornado was forming. I knew immediately that it was the rapture. I said the only audible word that was said during the whole dream, “YES!” As the funnel cloud dropped out of the sky, I barely noticed the crowd, but I did notice that almost all of the people around me were frozen – as if time had stopped.
I began first walking, then running towards the tower of cloud. There were a few people doing the same. When I got to within three feet of the cloud, I leapt into it as hard as I could jump.
I found myself rotating in the light, slowly ascending, my arms outstretched, my head thrown back. The light was indescribable. It was brighter than the sun, a brilliant color – the closest I can say is yellow, but it was deeper than that. It was more than light. It was a physical substance. The light was what was lifting us. I somehow knew that I could concentrate on a single cell in my body, and feel the gentle pressure of the light lifting me. My heart was so full of this light, I couldn’t breath, and I could tell my heart was almost bursting with it, but there was no discomfort. With my face turned skyward, I closed my eyes, thrilling in the feeling of the love of Christ, which I instinctively knew was the light. Even with my eyes closed, the light was so bright that I could see the shadows of others being lifted, too.
When I opened my eyes, we were standing together before a barely-visible stand or podium. It was barely visible because there was a gentle fog covering everything. I heard something, not audible, but in my heart. It made my heart leap, and I knew that whatever was just said was me. Not Susan, not sister, daughter, wife, mother. The real me, who I am inside. Somehow, that word encompassed everything about me that was important, real. But for some reason, there is a blankness there in my memory – I have no idea what it sounded like. I held out my hand, and was given a small white stone with writing on it. I can almost see that writing, but it’s as if it is just on the edge of my memory. What was written on that stone was the same word that was spoken, my name.
As dreams will do, I found myself suddenly somewhere else. I was in a small room, sitting on the end of a bed. It was almost like a small hotel room. There was a door and window with closed blinds on my left. Around this door and window, the light that brought me here was shining brightly. I wanted desperately to run through that door, but something held me back.
On the right was another door with no light around it. I walked to the lit door, then knew that I couldn’t go through it, not yet. I turned and walked through the other door.
I was on a long balcony, one with no railing. About two feet below the floor of the balcony was cloud. Someone came up to me. It was an older man, maybe in his 60’s, wearing khaki pants and a plaid flannel shirt. He had a sweet, peaceful face under the fishing hat he was wearing. He smiled at me, and we sat down to talk, our legs kicking up poufs of clouds occasionally. No words were said, just thoughts and feelings from heart to heart. I don’t remember a lot of the conversation. I remember being sad, knowing it was time to go. The man smiled, and I heard a promise that I would be back and never have to leave again. (Again, none of this was audible.) I sighed, and nodded. He bowed his head to pray, putting his hand on my forehead to bless me. I closed my eyes, then slowly opened them in my own bedroom.
What convinces me that it was more than a dream was my reaction. I immediately thought, “NO!” I closed my eyes, hoping I could return. I was in shock. It felt like this world was the dream. Everything looked bland, muted, as if I were looking through a dirty window. The colors were almost gray-scale, they lacked any depth. My house, the whole world, looked two-dimensional, as if my sense of perspective had been skewed. I remember running into the door or wall more than once. This lasted for almost a week.
My heart was full of love and joy, but also full of sadness at having to leave. My emotions were numb. I literally walked around in a daze for three or four days. I didn’t hear people when they spoke to me, and when they got my attention, I had to make an effort to understand them. I looked at my husband and children and felt nothing. The love that I had been shown was so overpowering that my family might as well have been blades of grass. It’s not that I didn’t care about them – but all I wanted was to go back to where I had been. For months, as soon as I turned the car on, I checked the digital compass to see which way east was. I almost had several wrecks, trying to drive and search the eastern sky at the same time. The effects of this dream are still with me, years later.
I have also met one person, and know of at least one more, who, during times of great distress, have seen the same man that I saw. Finally, the first time I was slain in the Spirit, the light I saw was the same light that was in the dream.
Last edited:
Experiences like this do change one's life forever. I've been telling others the same thing for years now. Seeing Heaven like you did makes this world dull and undesirable in everyway doesn't it?
