One need not believe in visions to have them.

I don’t, and yet ever so rarely, I do. We may all be wired for visions, after all.

This one was a red-blonde girl in her early teens, a few stray wisps of hair flying out as though her head had been on a pillow. She looked in through my kitchen door as I drifted up from sleep on the living room couch. She was similing. Her smile was full of unaffected love and her expression was certain everything was and would be somehow alright for both of us.

I had never seen that girl before, or the rumpled dress she wore. I have seen enough MacIlwinen family pictures to know she was Lisa in her teens, happy as in her last year she told me she would never be again [And each time she told me that, I would dissuade her/make her laugh.]. She had come to tell me farewell. She had been enjoying the sight of me asleep and had pushed gently into my consciousness to keep a promise she made – a promise to come back if she could, even if only for a moment, and touch me with her after-knowledge if it would be good and right for me to know.

The afternoon she made that promise, we were talking on the phone. I recall saying, “You don’t have to do that, Lisa. You may have other concerns, you know.”

We laughed hard together at that and then she said, “I know, George. But if there is any possible way I can, I will. Be sure you remember that. Don’t you dare forget.”

I remember. I remember she also said her passing by would not presage anything bad, and now I shall remember that she kept every promise she ever made to me.

Because somehow Lisa MacIlwinen stopped by to share her joy at what was, what is and what will be – before she stepped forever through the unseen door on Nov. 24, 2009.

The world is a far poorer place without her loving/forgiving heart, smile, glad voice, insightful mind, sustaining love and gentle laugh. She loved and was loved by her sister Dianne, Cathy, nephews Jack (to whom she was, long ago now, Aunt Lisa Beesa) and George Rankin, their father George, others … .

She was during her final years one of just three living people who had loved my sons, Jack and George Rankin, continuously since before they were born. She rejoiced in the knowledge that they would be born, in their birth and in every moment of their lives for as long as there were moments in hers.

Now there are just we two, grieving.

I saw thick darkness, then a light grew bright until I saw a man’s figure.

President Obama stood behind a podium. He wore a navy blue suit, white shirt and blue tie. Standing straight and tall, he would turn to the left and then to the right. He didn’t speak, but looked pleased as he received approbation from the audience.

As if it were a TV program, the scene went dark.

End of First Scene

~~~~~

The light grew bright again, he stood behind the podium as before. He still wore the same clothing but now his facial expression was one of intense anger. Enraged, he hunched over the podium and stretched his arm as he pointed his finger, first to the people on his left, then to those on his right. Everyone was blasted by the President, his words a torrent of accusations and diatribes, all directed against American and her citizens.

 Then darkness fell.

 End of Second Scene

~~~~~

The lights came up again, the President was terrible in his fury. His figure remained hunched over the podium, pointing his finger accusingly as he continued his harangue. But the suit was gone – he had assumed the garb of an imam. He wore a long, flowing robe – a little round hat of cloth sat perched on his head. He had traded western dress for the costume of his Muslim faith.

 Darkness fell again.

 End of Third Scene

~~~~~

  The lights went up one last time. Still at the podium, he stood straight, his arms uplifted in a “V” as in victory, as the audience venerated him. He had changed his clothing again, but now wore the unmistakable uniform of the KKK. Sill wearing the same white loose robes as before, but now he wore the hood of a Klansman.

 Final darkness.

 End of Fourth Scene

~~~~~

Interpretation:

One term equals four years.

Each scene represents one year of the President’s term.

First year:

The nation applauds enthusiastically for the changes taking place as the result of new policies enacted.

Second Year:

Still the same man, he seethes in anger, furious with the very people who have elected him to the highest office of the land. His demeanor is one of rage. His accusations of wrong-doing flow unceasingly.

Third Year:

Now we see the underlying cause of this rage. The cause of his anger is not racial per se, but religious in nature – it is the anger of a Muslim against the “infidel”, one who does not follow the teachings of Muhammad.

Fourth Year:

The podium is missing. Now he stands with arms upraised, just as a victor in a prizefight would. He receives the adoration of the audience. Why is it that he is so pleased? It would seem that he has achieved his objectives, the infidel has either been forced to accept Islam or removed.

Mission accomplished.

~~~~~

We must pray for the President and all of those in government. As Christians we are instructed to pray for the leaders of our nation: I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. (1 Tim 2:1-4)

I believe that the LORD will hear us when we pray according to His will: The king’s heart is in the hand of the LORD, as the rivers of water: he turneth it whithersoever he will. (Proverbs 21:1)

If the President were to continue the course of action as shown in the vision, then the LORD has something specific to say to the people of this nation.

 Just four words, simply stated:

“I WILL withstand him!”

DARK AMY

dark amy is grieving about bloodflowers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yw91BxwFE5s

maybe love = hate

(BLOODFLOWERZ : DAMAGED PROMISES)

]]> http://ravenstooth.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/liquid-bitch/ Tue, 24 Nov 2009 08:04:25 +0000 ravenstooth http://ravenstooth.wordpress.com/2009/11/24/liquid-bitch/

Not every dream is a vision;
Not every vision is a dream;
Not every dream is a message;
Not every message is from spirit;
Not every spirit is a guide;
Not every guide is what they seem;
and yet some speak in absolutes.

What is written has been changed;
What is spoken has been distorted;
What is seen has been covered;
What is felt has been destroyed;
What is taught has been convoluted;
and yet some speak in absolutes.

Not every memory is the past;
Not every memory is the future;
Not every memory is our own;
and yet some speak in absolutes.

Not everything is what it seems
and yet some speak in absolutes.

I’m bleeding all over the bandage box.

There’s blood on a 20 bucks.

The cashier flinched some as she clenched fresh mushrooms

All right, I was re-shopping at 3 in the night.

If you ask, I was too clearly too early after waking to take up the task

Of red sauce for 20, and due to new knives

Just sharpened that morning

I sliced a thumb along with a nice onion  then

I  compromised , handily,  red sauce for 20 family

With my own red sauce, now burning

W/dangerous genes to scald a newborn or

 Imaginably an  std that they

or even me would never dream of,

(One of the wages of  a dream love)

So I ditched  that batch.

Shoot,  it’s surely less polluted 

Than the bloody mix up merlin

Stirring on his convoluted Special,

Spilling in too much as usual.

Here’s a gold pen

Hope it lies open

Hope it lies openly

And when what lies beneath

Surely is.

Surfaces.

And one (And all) will know more, bequeathed

What surely is.

explore then expose then espouse/pungent scents  of../off on tangent hints of../resurgent urgent urges of

essence

Respiri in sintonia con il Canale antico; pugnali puntati ai Sette, immoti custodi al di là del Velo e spietati giudici dello spergiuro del Drago, nel consesso celeste.
Il Barbaro lasciò scorrere il proprio canto runico, incurante dei defunti guardiani del primo Ordine; cessata la sinfonia, nel silenzioso monito dei caduti la sera eterna, morbida compagnia d’ombra, sorrise al risveglio completo del Canale. Accolto come in un abbraccio dai rami della Casa, gelidi guardiani. Il tiranno sedotto dalla reminiscenza, dal suo sollievo, si precipitò verso lo scrigno di conoscenza… La Casa Antica: ultima difesa del Primo Impero, tesoro per l’Impero immortale, nemesi per l’imperatore mortale, signore dei Canali. Dimora del Trono di Luce.
Una rinnovata consapevolezza attendeva il Drago, futura volontà del Trono d’Ombra, lama della Spada Nera.

Here’s a gold pen

Hope it lies open

Hope it lies openly

And when what lies beneath

Surely is.

Surfaces.

And one (And all) will know more, bequeathed

What surely is.

explore then expose then espouse

pungent scents  of..

off on tangent hints of..

resurgent urgent urges of

essence

Last Sunday we visited my Husband’s Stepmom in the Hospital.  She has MS, though she was there for pancritis and then later pneumonia.  When we went to visit, she had not eaten sense Wednesday, the day she was admitted.

She didn’t smell like death, and she didn’t have any of the usual ‘vultures’ or spirits that feast on the energies of dying things.  So I assumed this was going to be a short stay or if she DID pass, it would be quick and unexpected.

Monday, while changing the sheets on my massage table, I saw, with my eyes, a black bird fly across my door and land in front of the office manager’s door, which is right next to mine.  I even heard the flutter of wings.  For real.  Not a vision, but a real honest seeing.  I blinked and stuck my head out, thinking, “Surely there isn’t a bird in here, maybe the office manager dropped something.”  But when I stuck my head out there was nothing there.  No dropped papers, no bird, nothing.

The Office Manager was just hanging up the phone and I told her about it. She asked what it meant and I said I would have to think on it.

On the way home I told my husband and he looked at me sadly for a while, but didn’t say anything.  I didn’t want to push the issue but I knew in my hearts it was a message.

Three days later my Husband’s Stepmom passed it was quick and unexpected.  That was yesterday.  I woke this morning with her standing over me, telling me she was worried about her husband and that she had no idea that I could speak with the dead.  I smiled sadly and told her we would watch over him for her and that she needed to go visit with her family and that I would be here if she wanted to talk some more after she had done that.  She turned to see her father standing behind her and they embraced.  I’ve been trying to focus on something else to give her time to adjust.

To Sandra: May you find the otherworld holds wonders beyond your imagining.  You were a brave and strong woman.  A Veteran and mother.  You will be sorely missed.