On the morning of July 4, 2014, I had a dream that I was in an immense museum. It was all about abortion. First I passed by a theater room just like many museums use to show films. The film being shown had a title in Russian, a four-letter word that I cannot remember. Sitting in there watching the film were some people, including Vladimir Putin.
After that, there were a few rooms of the equipment used for abortions. I must point out that this museum was set up like one about a totalitarian genocide; it was not promoting or glorifying abortion. I walked through these rooms without looking at much. Then I came into huge rooms with wax and plaster models of every body of every baby killed. Most were in pieces or burned. These rooms were at first big but still such as real rooms one encounters, but as I went on they became incredibly huge; instead of walking on the floor one took stairs up onto a green and amber glass catwalk, while the room went deeper and deeper, stretched out of sight below, all the walls lined like an ossuary.
At this point an old woman came up to me, and I knew that she was "The Woman of the Holy House of Walsingham," but I'm not sure what that means. She was not the Virgin Mary; but I had the sense that back when the original shrine of Walsingham stood as a pilgrimage place, people would see her there. She told me that something was going to happen to a great number of unborn children in Michigan.
I went on, and next there were huge halls plastered with newspapers going back to the 1880's. I saw ones in German, Hebrew, Russian, French, and English. When I got near the end of these rooms, the Woman came back and led me up a stairway. We came out in a room I recognized from Trinity College, Dublin. (I visited there in 2009.) A door from there led to another fancy room. The Woman told me this was a room in Buckingham Palace. I saw another woman sitting on a plush chair: She looked like a combination of Elizabeth I, Queen Anne, Queen Victoria, Elizabeth II, and the queen of hearts from playing cards, all done up in a gaudy parody of the Virgin Mary.
The Woman of the Holy House told me: "That woman is the Spirit of the Ascendancy. She used to be the Protestant Ascendancy, but now she is just Ascendancy, empty power. It is because of her that the children of England are in such danger, but soon the children of Michigan may wish they were in the United Kingdom instead." Then she told me to wait here and went off. I leaned against a balustrade and started to pray.
The Spirit of Ascendancy came over and asked: "Are you praying?" I said yes. She said, "No one prays here anymore. It's not done."
Then I said, "You have to stop it. You're killing your children."
She shrugged.
I said, "You're killing your grandchildren. Don't you want anyone to live here anymore?"
She frowned and said, "I suppose it is a problem. But it's not talked about." And she walked away.
I walked down a flight of stone steps and once more found myself in the entryway to the museum. The Woman of the Holy House was there and she said to me: "Now you've seen Michigan and England, and when you go back to Houston or Minnesota you must tell this, you must post it."
I said, "Post it?" taking her to mean publish in the only way readily available to me, the internet.
She said, "Yes. Don't care about your reputation, even if you were to be excommunicated, you must do it." As she spoke she was shrinking; she turned into a baby, then even smaller, an embryo, and I picked her up. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said and put her tiny hand on my face. Then the museum doors opened unto a bright white light and at that moment I woke up.
~~~
I wrote to a priest about his dream, and I admitted that I have had mental health difficulties, and he advised that since the evil of abortion is clear without any special revelation contained in the dream, I should forebear posting anything beyond requesting prayer for the unborn in Michigan until I was sure it wasn't just a regular dream reflecting issues troubling me.
And I wasn't sure, so all I did was put in my email signature, "Pray for the Unborn in Michigan."
But now, eight years later, Michigan has, most probably via election fraud, enshrined the killing of unborn children in its state constitution. Also, everything I have since learned about Vladimir Putin and about the British monarchy has reinforced my conclusion that the dream was more than a regular dream. So I am finally posting it, praying it's not too late, and begging everyone, anyone who sees:
Pray for the Unborn in
Michigan.
