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The Bride

In a dream, I arrived at a church building on foot as a white limousine pulled up the circular drive and stopped at the double doors out front. I ran to open the limo door and as I did, the light which emanated from inside the car knocked me back.

The bride inside was stunning – too dazzling to look at. I shielded my eyes and turned towards the entrance. I grabbed both wooden door handles and swung them open.

As I looked back to the limo, the Bride glided towards the opened doors and stood in the foyer just before the second set of sanctuary doors. As I looked through a window on those doors, into the sanctuary, there were only a few people sitting there; scattered throughout the rows of benches. The Bride wanted to begin her procession and I yelled out, “NO! You can’t go yet... there are not enough people to witness this!”

The sanctuary doors opened themselves and she moved forward into the room. She floated smoothly down the center aisle. I saw her as if I was on a moving video camera platform panning from one side of the room to the other.

On one side, the Bride was polished, spectacular, and stunning. Indescribable.

Then my view takes me to the other side of the room. The view of the Bride from this side was different.

She is grotesque. Her face skeletal. She oozed wickedness and is vomiting. Vomiting heart shaped stones that smash when they hit the ground. From this angle, her dress is torn, stained and dirty.

Horrified, I am swept back to the other side of the room again. From this angle, she looks radiant and beautiful again. One half of her grotesque. One half beautiful.

The dream takes me to the back of the room. I realized I was getting a perspective of the Bride from all sides.

The bride continued gliding up the center aisle to the front platform. She stepped up the three red-carpeted levels and then sat in a pile of ashes. She grabbed handfuls of ash and washed herself with them..

Her wedding gown turned into a burlap-type sack and she melted like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz when water was poured onto her. She shrunk, flattened to nothing but a pile of ashes and dirt.

I’m left staring at the smouldering mound of ashes. The ashes rumble like simmering water and suddenly, from within them, beauty arises!

The Bride rose, radiant on all sides! She grows taller and taller, bigger and bigger until she transformed into a giant eagle shape and kept growing taller and wider until she was so large, she broke through the roof of the church building tearing it and the four walls of the church to smithereens.

Suddenly, millions of people flocked in over the crumbled walls; pushing, climbing, desperate as she spread out her multi-colored wings that hovered over the people with a love and compassion, so deep, so unknown, protecting them like a mother hen would her chicks.

Rays of light streamed out of the heavens above and then the whole scene turned white.


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