suddenly charges toward the lightly colored ranks before him, the white troops draw forth their glowing long swords and raise their golden shields up in a defensive move. When the dark leader nears the line, he pulls up causing his stead to rear up as flames dance forth from the animal’s nostrils.
“Where is your cowardly leader Michael?” The harsh voice booms out. In response the golden armored ranks open to permit a pure white horse to slowly walk out onto the battlefield of air before them. Upon the horse sits a large figure dressed the same as those that now stand behind him.
“What do you want?” he asks as his horse stops a short distance from the other leader.
“I have come to demand that you leave these lands to me.”
“Why would I turn this land over to Satan? You know as well as I that he would turn on the children of God and destroy them.”
“So what does that matter to us? They are the toys of God, little insignificant beings to be pushed about as we please.”
“They are of the creation, and anything of the creation is good. For you know nothing was created in vain, and for you to say they are toys is to say it was in vain.”
“Do not throw the words of God in my face, Michael. You know that they are wasted upon me.”
“I speak the divine truth, and to deny it is to deny all that is right.”
“Then I deny it!” the dark form yells as he draws his sword and quickly charges his counterpart. Michael only has time to raise his shield in his defense as the mighty flaming weapon crashes down against it, knocking him from his stead.
He stands and draws his own sword. It comes to meet the other’s sword, who has turned his horse, and has quickly galloped back in an attempt to beat his adversary from doing just what he has done.
Once again the dark figure turns and charges at the standing form before him. Michael finally braces for the oncoming attack and prepares to make his move. The dark horse charges at him, its red eyes echoing the flames shooting out from its nose and mouth as it approaches. His glowing weapon swings wide and strong as the sound of its crushing against the shield of the rider vibrates throughout the battlefield. The mighty conflict throws the dark form off his horse as it turns and runs back to the black lines.
“Very good, Michael. I didn’t know you were that good,” the larger of the two forms says as he looks up at his glowing adversary.
“Stand, vermin, and let us finish this, for your time, now, is at an end.”
“I will not accept what you say, for I know I am your better,” the black form says as he stands, throwing his battered shield aside. Michael does the same. Again the dark form charges, and they engage in hand-to-hand combat.
“You killed the mortal bodies of my sons, and now I will kill you!”
“You know that they should not have been conceived. You and your fellows knew that we must not come to know the flesh of Adam’s children. You saw their deformed nature, standing as tall as we, but filled with all the fornication that brought them into being,” Michael says as they both circle slowly. Each waits for the other to make the first move, which finally comes as the white form lunges forward. The dark form moves quickly away from the shining blade as he thrusts his own into the crack between the breast and back plate. The sword sinks into Michael and then out again. It causes the archangel to bend in agony. Grasping his injured side then, he stumbles back in a guarded manner.
“You will never win against me! Israel will be mine!” the dark creature says as he again charges, but the wounded being fends off his attack.
“You were allowed to control the Greek. Israel is my ward, and I shall protect her long after you are in the Lake of Fire,” Michael says as the other lunges in pure anger in an uncontrollable rage. Michael uses his full remaining strength to cleave the sword into the oncoming form’s head. It splits it in half, and the still living dark creature falls down. Down from the heavens and into a mighty flaming hole in the earth. At the entrance to the hole an angel appears and closes it up and locks it.
As Timothy sees the key turn, he suddenly finds himself within a building. In this structure he sees that a large celebration has been taking place. He looks at a man whose tan is slightly lighter than those about him and who have clothes that are a little different. Suddenly he grabs his head as pain is written strongly upon his face. Then life itself leaves from his eyes as he falls down to the ground as those about him run quickly to his aid.
An Open Door
:November 13
:11:45 a.m.
Several weeks have passed since Tim had his last dream. Christa is in a restaurant with her sister Pat as they talk about the family.
“So has Tim had any dreams lately?”
“No, but it doesn’t bother him as much since his last one with Jesus in it.”
“What happened in that dream?”
“He found his place in the scheme of things.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well Jesus told him to look at Acts 2:17, and he knows that he is part of the first wave of the last of those who are trying to prepare us for the soon return of the Lord.”
“Soon! How soon?”
“Sometime during our retirement years.”
“Our retirement years, uhm. Well, who are these others that are to follow?”
“They will be the prophets and those that will see visions of God and Jesus when they’re wide awake.”
“Excuse me,” comes the voice of a woman sitting behind Pat. The two look in the direction of the voice.
“I’m sorry to be so rude, but I just couldn’t help over hearing what you said about knowing someone who is experiencing religious dreams.” The woman’s middle-aged face was red with embarrassment.
“Oh.... a yes, what about it?” Christa asks, taken off guard.
“Do you believe he or she is really experiencing these dreams, in a message giving manner?”
“Why yes, my husband is, and they are very insightful to the Christian of today, and for the Christianity of the past for that matter,” Christa says in a defensive tone, caused by the woman’s wording of her question.
“Oh, please forgive me. That came out all wrong. May I please join you?” the black-haired woman requests and then starts to rise as the younger woman looks at her sister and then nods in the affirmative. She sits next to Christa who moves over slightly to give her room.
“What is this dream about Jesus you were talking about?” the woman asks in an excited tone, and so Christa begins to describe her husband’s dream as best as she can.
“Oh, praise God!” the elder female exclaims, awed by the experience.
“Can I meet your husband?” she asks, and Christa agrees after she thinks a moment.
:12:43 p.m.
Christa, Pat, and the individual they had met in the restaurant enter her home.
“Tim! I’m home, and I’ve brought someone who wants to meet you.”
Timothy comes out of his office and walks into the living room where he finds the woman standing.
“Mrs. Carlson, this is my husband Timothy Browning.”
“Tim, this is Mrs. Edna Carlson. She approached us when she overheard us talking about your dreams.”
“Oh, really! It’s a pleasure to meet...”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine!” she says in an excited Southern accent. “My husband is a pastor, and I want you to come to our church and speak!”
“You do? Well, what’s the name of your church?”
“Freedom at Calvary!”
“Well, I haven’t heard of that one.”
“Oh, it’s a small church. We only have about thirty to fifty people as members, but we’ve had up to eighty people at some services.”
“If you really want me to speak, I will.”
“Well here are the addresses and my phone number. Call me Saturday, and I’ll tell you the rest. I tell you, it is such a pleasure to meet you. Bye now!” The cheerful woman quickl
y walks out the front door, leaving the three people inside stunned.
:November 18
:10:58 a.m.
Timothy nervously sits next to the pastor Alford Carlson, a man in his early fifties with gray-black hair. There are three other people seated upon the dais, as all of them listen to the small choir. The pastor stands when the singing comes to an end and walks up to the podium. He speaks for a moment about church affairs and then asks for all to pray. Once the prayer ends, he turns to look at Tim and introduces him. He stands, shakes the pastor’s hand, and looks out at the people. Boredom is written on most of their faces. Silence reigns for several moments as Tim stands there with nothing to say. He looks down at his spouse Christa and his two sons. She smiles at him and nods encouragingly, and so he prays.
‘Please Lord, give me the words to speak to these people, and to show your glory.’ he says in his silent prayer, and then begins to speak.
“Thank you, Pastor Carlson, for inviting me,” he says as he looks at the man still adjusting himself in his seat.
“This is the first time I have ever done anything like this, so please forgive me if I stumble along.
“I feel you should first understand who I am in the sight of the Lord. In Acts 2:17, Peter spoke of the last days. In these times he said that the sons and daughters shall see visions, the men shall prophesy, and the old men shall dream dreams.
“I am a Dreamer of dreams, even though I am young now. I feel that when the Lord returns, I will be an old man.” Then Tim tells one of his more recent dreams. As he finishes, he looks at the