I dreamt that mum and dad
owned a carriage with two horses
One with blue reins; one
with pink
The blue reins kept coming
undone; constantly stopping and starting
The carriage was high; with
two rows of seats; for 4 people
The roads around Barmera
were all cracked and broken
Water was everywhere; the
lake flooded
Saw a blonde woman; she
looked like Billie
But I called her “Mercy”; running away from people
chasing her
Each person had two cuts
across their belly; blood dripping
I saw a horse further on; it
was dead; she’d taken its life
I called her and “Mercy” came to me
We walked around down a road that led around the lake
We sat on the grass beside the road; waiting for a
musical concert
(I've been there before in another dream)
As we sit on the roadside, waiting for the music to
begin
We are asked to move along a bit
I look around and see that most of the people are
facing the wrong way
Then I follow Mercy and a few other young people
Through wetlands; it’s getting darker
We get to the hidden house just in time
It is hidden by trees and bushes
This is where we are all staying the night
This part has all happened before in a previous dream
Whilst reading in chapter
two of “The Five Stages of the Soul” by
Harry R Moody and David Carroll, page 42: “Sometimes the Call reveals itself in dreams.
At other times people are drawn to it through a special book.”
This is what happened to me:
I cried out unto the Lord as I felt so useless to both Him and my family. I
found a book in the Op-shop called “The King’s Daughter: a medieval Love story”
by Mary O’Connell: The story of Hildegard of Bingen; the Sybil of the Rhine . After reading this book over two years ago (early 2010) I found myself
writing poetry. Everything I wrote ended up praising the Lord. All the plans I
had for writing my family history went out the window as the Dear Lord decided
I should write for Him instead!
I had an epiphany on the 8th
of May 2010. I’d gone to church as usual, but this time so full of joy that I
had to tell Simon Fay. He also felt the same joy and we shared our stories. On
this Sabbath there was no pastor so every one did a little item in front of the
congregation. As I stood up I felt the words coming together in my mind, but I
couldn’t get them out as I was unsure of them after the first few lines. I went
home and sat down under the veranda on my old beanbag; with pen and paper. The
words just kept on coming so I just kept on writing. There were about six pages
that were given to me by the Holy Spirit that afternoon!
I called the poem “Ode to Joy and Perfect Love”. I had to
change a few words to make it rhyme and fit together. I prayed about it and
asked the lord to let me know if He was unhappy with it and to let me know if
it should be changed in any way. The writing pad went missing for many months
and I finally found it behind the filing cabinet; after the flood! By then I’d
printed it up and passed it round at church. I even read it out in front of the
congregation as no-one seemed to even mention or talk about it. I’ve found it
difficult to understand why no-one seems to want to talk about this with me; no
comments, no nothing! This hurts me but I just take it on the chin and go on
with my writing for the Lord. Many words and poems follow after. It’s like the
floodgates have been opened and it all just comes rushing out. No matter how a
poem starts off, it all leads to Jesus and My dear Lord in heaven!
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