The dream this time might be thought of as a "nightmare". However, I generally, do not like using that term. I am more inclined to think of such dreams as "learning experiences". I find this a much more empowering concept.
This dream begins with me running through at wealthy suburban neighbour. It seems I am being pursued by a newly escaped convict. He is a really tall lanky,ugly bald headed angry man. He is wearing what State convicts always wear here in Michigan. He has on the orange t-shirt with the blue pants and blue jacket with the orange side stripes. I have worked along side lots State of Michigan prisoners during my military career.
It would seem I had quite a head start on this man. Somehow he escaped custody and has me on his hit list because of some association I have with someone who did him wrong. I have no exact understanding why I have become the target of this violent man, but I know, I need to get as far away from him, as I can, as quickly as possible.
I am getting tired of running and so I attempt to lose him by ducking into a nearby house. It is a large brick house with a steep peaked roof and tall windows. It reminds me of many church buildings I have seen. Inside there are two young men, brothers, in their early twenties. They are preparing and inspecting camping, and hunting gear all neatly laid out around them in the living room. They are, quite understandably, upset I have entered their house and demand to know why I am there. I quickly try to appraise them of the situation. They decide to help me out. The older brother hands me a rather futuristic looking sawed off shot gun. The weapon, he explains, is powerful and unique, and fires only one round at a time. He hands it to me to me with three very large rounds of ammo and they both flee from the room.
Suddenly, my adversary bursts through the front door tearing it off its hinges! He is chasing me about the room. I run and stumble about consecutively firing off rounds from the gun as I go. The rounds go off with loud booms and brilliant white flashes. Streaks and crackles of lightening race about the room. The shots are being deflected by some type of invisible barrier.
Eventually, this crazy possessed criminal grabs me by the scruff of my neck and lifts me off the floor. I pivot around toward him and use my hands and arms to break his neck. It snaps with a hideous cracking noise as he falls to floor.
It is now early into the evening. The sun has set. Three dark astral figures appear in the room. They are wearing black robes and have goatees, and tattoos. They look somewhat like L.A gang members. They are speaking in distinct British accents and are having, in angry hushed tones, a conversation about having failed at killing me. They belong to a sub group of black magic neo-Nazis and have their own pantheon of strange gods or demons they call on to help them in their deeds. They want to pick a psychic-spiritual fight with me. These bullies want to prove how bad they can be. They hurl all sorts of insults and say threatening things to get me to lose my temper. Finally, one of them threatens to harm my girlfriend as a last card to provoke me.
It is at this point in the dream I decide to wake up and take some action. I get out of bed and retrieve a big machete that I have exclusively consecrated to the Archangel Michael. I get back in bed and fall back to sleep with the machete in my left hand. I re-enter the dream and call on Michael in the name of Jesus to defend me against these annoying idiots. Instantly Michael becomes superimposed over me wearing bright gold shining armour and outstretched white wings, and these guys evaporate like the morning fog on a hot summer day. I then continue sleeping peacefully for the rest of the morning.
Whew! I sure hope that is the last I see of these strange annoying fellows. I am sure glad I had the divine duo watching my back and I am glad I did not lose my temper. This is all a highly unusual dream. I rarely succeed at re-entering dreams and this all happened in a rather dramatic way. I'm going to be contemplating the implications of all this, as I always do, for a good long while.
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