My dreams take on their own sense of reality. Everything in them makes perfect sense until I am once again awake, immersed in the reality of my conscious life.
On rare occasion I have a dream that can only be classified as divine revelation. These are different than my other dreams—they are spiritual epiphanies. I am convinced of their divine source because they are so intense and believable. It’s as if I am an observer who is shown a truth so clearly it is beyond doubt. I remember these dreams in great detail. When God wants you to know something, He makes it clear and loud. He doesn’t speak to all of us the same way. For me it is sometimes a slap-in-the-face dream.
Here is one such dream:
It was a brightly lit day and I was in a cabin with many windows. The cabin was in a flat area at the bottom of a wooded ridge. Three of us were inside the cabin; me, a man with a rifle, and a very treacherous man I’ll call Wiley. The man with the rifle had captured Wiley. Wiley was rather ugly with rough, hard skin, and a crooked grin that never left his face until the end.
The man was about to hand me the rifle. I understood without words, I was to accept the rifle while looking directly at Wiley. The man never took his eyes off Wiley until I had the rifle and Wiley under control.
“Take him to the top of the ridge, where you will find a clearing.” He continued with emphasis, “Do not take your eyes off of him. Anything more than a blink and he will trick you. He is crafty beyond what you can imagine.”
Without explanation, I knew the man had to leave.
I held the rifle waist high and kept my eyes on Wiley as I marched him along the bottom of the ridge towards the top.
I used peripheral vision to navigate several twists and turns and other obstructions. I was fairly confident at this point. We almost reached a large clearing along the way when I had to navigate around a bucket sized boulder next to a tree root. I glanced down for a split second . . .
In that split second, Wiley had the rifle pressed to his shoulder and was pulling the trigger. There was no moment to think about an exit strategy, no words like in the movies, no life passing before my eyes, just a blank stare at instant death. In that same split second I understood Wiley was not a man.
Suddenly, Wiley was suspended about 15 feet in the air by three shards of electricity, like the kind in a Nikola Tesla experiment. The electricity was coming from three giant men on horses. Their lances, similar to those used by knights of old, emitted electrical charges that suspended Wiley in mid-air. The three rode away with him wreathing and hollering in pain.
A fourth Rider on a white horse came closer to me, looked down and said, “You’re ok now.” Then he rode away. Without words I knew this was the Archangel Michael and the first three horsemen were his angels. Wiley was one of Satan’s dominions.
Michael and the others were about 10’ tall and their horses were proportionately large too.
Michael’s skin was light brown and his hair was jet black and not long. He wore chest armor and and did not have wings. His horse was restless and powerful beneath him, yet there was a stillness about Michael. The power I witnessed was stunning. I was in speechless awe of Michael’s pure strength. He was without question, in charge. His voice was not compassionate or cruel. He was all business, 100% warrior.
The take-away of the dream was clear to me. I can not out-think or out-smart Satan or his dominions. My only protection from them is from God. It is not because I deserve it—it’s His grace.
I don’t usually think about angels, so the dream surprised me. In his book, “Mere Christianity,” C.S. Lewis talked about Angels depicted in European renaissance paintings who don’t look like boys girls, or even adults. “Angels,” he said, “made great men like Daniel shake in their sandles and fall on their face in fear.” The Angels in my dream didn’t look anything like these paintings of Michael…