“the universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
I was in a great mood. Our sponsor Lee McCormick of SpiritRecovery.com had some work for me to fuel the work of DreamShield. In this happy state a strong vision came to me in meditation this afternoon.
It seems the angels are weary of our wars and ready to do battle with the power of love. Here it is hot off the DreamShield press.
Battle rages in an obscure village. Homes burn. Tanks roll to crush a civilian revolution. The odds are hopeless.
A mother clutches her crying baby to her arms as the tank muzzle swings for her position beside her fallen husband’s body.
Suddenly, bright light forms into a dazzling angel before the tank. She is Japanese. A new earth angel from the recent disaster, ready for her first mission of dreaming a gentle 2012.
A stunned soldier fires the tank canon. The beautiful angel waves an arm and the canon fires not ammo but flowers.
Other soldiers open fire on the civilians. The angel holds forth her delicate hands and forms a DreamShield, a gray triangle. The hail of machine gunfire deflects off the angel’s triangular shield and falls harmlessly to the dust. Where the deflected bullets fall a rainbow assortment of flowers erupts from the scorched soil.
The civilians cheer. But the tank driver hits the gas and the tank runs over the angel.
“Oh my God. The angel! They’ve killed her!” the woman with the baby sobs as she prepares to die beneath the tank’s impact on the white house
But the tank has lost traction. The tank driver guns the tank but it inches no further, treads spinning.
The angel rises from the dust, lifting the tank into the air effortlessly. The new earth angel giggles at her new awesome powers and transforms the tank into an ice cream truck.
The angel turns to the terrified soldiers and with a wave of her hand turns them into joyous carnival performers.
Shocked rebels stagger from their positions and toss away their weapons. The angel touches each rebel’s heart and their stern faces transform to joy.
The angel offers a golden rattle to the woman with the crying baby. The baby coos for joy. But the woman cries, “My husband… Is it too late?”
The angel smiles and points to the woman’s husband, healed and running to her arms. They kiss.
Proud of her first mission, the Japanese angel leaps into the sky and soars from the war turned carnival.
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