‘In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams.’ Act 2:17
This was by far the most vivid and memorable dream I think I have ever had. It was so intense that I woke up shaking and couldn’t get back to sleep for the rest of the night. I was sweating like I had been running for miles and my heart was pounding. I have no doubt that this was one of a few prophetic dreams that been given to me.
This dream was not something that my mind simply made up. The details of were too fine, the environment was too realistic, and the emotions were too intense to simply be something my subconscious needed to deal with. It had to be a prophetic dream.
In the book of Ruth, Naomi told Ruth to visit Boaz on the threshing floor, where he was separating wheat from the chaff, whichmeans to separate the useless portion of the harvest (chaff) from the useful parts. The entire story is a metaphor that overviews the entire Biblical story of redemption. Jesus will eventually separate the good portions from the bad, and this dream has that theme woven throughout it.
The dream started with me looking down onto a sprawling complex full of buildings and fortifications, as well as a rail depot in the center of it. From the layout, it looked like a military facility. There were lots of towers, rail tracks everywhere, guards, steam rising from buildings and outdoor piping. Anyone who had spent time on military bases would recognize the standard architecture for buildings you find on government property.
The environment seemed gloomy but warm, with portions of the base bathed in sunlight while others under a cloudy sky.
After seeing the base from above, I found myself on the ground walking through the facility. The ground was rocky but worn down, roads weren’t paved, and vehicles driving past me kicked up quite a bit of dust. I could smell food cooking, laundry drying, and even some of the people that I passed by.
Military folks were everywhere. A few of the people I was actually working with at the time in real life were there, in uniform, sitting around a small table playing cards. They seemed to be comfortable and relaxed despite the armed guards patrolling the grounds and walkways all around them. That detail isn’t strange for military folks, but this seemed to be a different type of facility, not a war zone or traditional military base. The guards were actively looking inward as well as outward, like a prison.
The walkways where I found myself wandering were narrow and the buildings were clearly housing units. I noticed the rail depot in the distance and started to walk towards it. Hundreds of people who were being herded off of a newly arrived rail car, packed into it so tightly that they fell out of it when the doors were opened.
The car wasn’t the typical passenger type rail car. It looked similar to the kind of rail cars the Nazi’s used to herd Jews around Europe, just made out of slightly more modern materials.
All the people getting off looked like they were expecting to be there.
Calm, prepared, ready.
These people all prepared themselves in every way possible, and were all dressed in their best clothing. They looked clean, presentable, well dressed, and emotionally together.
That is, until they closer they got to the building they had formed a line into. Slowly, more and more of them became excitable as they moved nearer to the door. Some were excited and singing happily, while others grew visibly nervous, started shaking. A few collapsed out of fear.
I tried overhearing what the people in line were talking about but couldn’t make it out, so I joined the line to see where it led to.
At this point no one had noticed me. Not a single person in the dream had taken note of me regardless of if they were at the table playing poker as I walked by or standing on either side of me in line. I was, at the moment, invisible to everyone around me, existing solely as an observer.
The line was single file and incredibly long, heading towards a single set of double doors. I craned my neck to try and take a peek, wondering what was behind the doors; but couldn’t get a look inside. It seemed like I was in that line for an eternity, slowly moving towards the door. My own emotions began to grow with each step, getting more nervous as I headed into the building. I knew that once you passed those doors there was no turning back and that whatever happened beyond would change you forever.
The line went past the doors and down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway, there was a station for everyone to change into white prison type clothing. The uniform was a simple jumpsuit type outfit with no shoes or socks. While very plain, it seemed symbolic. In some places it means the person is in reception while in others, a white jumpsuit denotes segregation units or death row inmates. I felt like it was a mockery of being pure that only a few in line noticed.
Joy in the Face of Atrocity
The hallway looked very surgical. White walls, tall double doors on either end, bright white lighting, no windows or exits along the way, and people all clothed in white. Another set of double doors at the end of the hallway stood out. Nearly everyone became nervous as they approached them. Once again, all the white felt like a symbolic mockery. To me, this corridor seemed like a transformative walkway somewhere between Earth and Heaven as weird as that seems. It was almost like whatever happened in that building would determine where I would exit the building into.
Only one person was allowed through the doors at a time. Waiting to get through the door, near silence in the corridor, and everyone trying to get a look at what was beyond helped build up a fear or what was beyond.
One noticeable thing about this hallway was that there were no guards. The people all just stayed in single file line on the left side of the hallway willingly. No attempts to run, get away, or otherwise cause a scene. We all just stood there like we knew what was happening and were OK with it.
Entire families were in that line, each member parting with the others as they were brought in one by one. No one cried, though. Everyone believed that they would see those going beyond the doors again shortly. Groups had all discussed what they would each do once they got beyond the ominous doors ahead, and were at peace.
Once I reached the doors, guards on the other side of the door grabbed me by the arm and brought me in. I was led to a small table and told to sit. When I looked around, there were only two doors out of this room, excluding the door we came through. Those doors were only for coming, not going. I was seated at a plain, square, white table. The kind with a single support in the center. It was very small, maybe only 4 feet across.
Directly across the table was someone who I had a strange feeling about. They seemed hollow and dead but were physically alive. They were dressed in a lab coat with a black turtle neck on, their eyes were dark and sunk into their head, and a clipboard with a pen was on the table in front of them. Nothing else. They weren’t human, at least any longer. Perhaps the toll of their duties had eaten away their humanity. Their eyes never lifted off of the table, nonetheless made their way up for a glance at me. Their role was simply to ask one quick question that would determine the fate of whoever sat across the table from them: ‘Do you believe in Jesus?’
Wheat from the Chaff
Saying “no” to this guy sent you through one door where you were free to go after a bit of further processing. If you said “yes,” however, you went through the second door…
I somehow knew that only a small portion of people they had brought in responded with a strong ‘YES!’ I also knew that most people said no once they were asked the question, separating entire families in the process. The composure and confidence that so many people had when they left their families outside the door crumbled at the magnitude of what they were faced with at that table.
When I answered with a resounding ‘Yes,’ they asked me a second time. I gave the same answer and their only response was, ‘OK.’ The guards came forward and escorted me through the door. They didn’t have to hold me, though. I got up and went willingly.
They tried to make me uncomfortable with taunts and shoving, but couldn’t. I was at peace. Not an Earthly peace, thankfully. It was a joy that I had only felt a few times in my life, all of which were when I was deep in prayer.
The room they escorted me to was cold and sterile. The white walls and bright white lights theme carried over into this room, but they replaced the square table with a stainless steel one. It looked like a modified table from the morgue. I was laid onto the table and strapped down to it, similarly to what they do for lethal injections. The entire show was meant to instill fear and reduce the chance of escape, but I knew so many others had endured it joyfully. I didn’t fight it even though I knew what was going on.
The individual in this room seemed eerily similar to the last interviewer. Although they were physically different, they had the same sinister presence and inhuman mannerisms. He asked me one final time, ‘Do you believe in Jesus?’ My answer remained the same, ‘Yes.’
At this point they simply said, ‘OK’ and rolled what looked like a mobile guillotine over me and secured it in place. The entirety of their personality, like the interviewer, was gone. Monotone, no eye contact, no warmth, no humanity, and robotic actions.
The Choice: To die yet live, or live but die?
The man walked over and stood above me. When I looked up at the man again, his face was not the same. Where a human face had once been was now Satan himself. He laughed at me. ‘You know this is foolish. You just have to say that you don’t really believe, that you were lying, and you are free to go. Free to return to family, friends, society, whatever you want and live the rest of your life in peace.’
“I know” I said. “Are you sure? Last chance.” Once again, I said, “Yes” but followed it up with, “I know how this ends for both of us.” With that comment, he was furious and launched into a rage.
I turned my head and looked at the wall next to him. Jesus was standing next to him, just beside my arm. Satan apparently could not see him, but God was in that place. He grabbed my hand and said, “You will be with me today.”
I was at peace, nearly oblivious to the physical reality going on around me. As I looked at him, the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of the guillotine beginning to drop and I didn’t care. I just kept looking at Jesus.
Then I woke up.
Thinking This One Over
The crazy thing about this dream is that even in the darkest, more fear inducing parts of the dream, anyone who truly followed Christ was calm, comforted, and composed. Those who proclaimed to follow Christ but didn’t actually know him fell apart under the first signs of trouble.
The entire setup was intense, obviously meant to reach into the soul of every person who was brought there and force their hand towards eternal damnation through human fears. Even the ‘people’ who worked there seemed to have sold their souls away, and with it, their humanity. The only people past that second set of doors who had life within them were those who wouldn’t leave the building physically alive. Ironically, anyone who left the building alive, were spiritually dead upon exit.
I think this is a perfect illustration of what the tribulation period will be like. A time where people are beheaded for their faith while others succumb to the pressure and disavow Jesus in a bid to stay alive a bit longer, only to lose their humanity.
The potential for such a scenario is becoming more likely by the minute. Take the current political climate into consideration, and this is especially true. Look at how political polarization has caused people to wish death on others just for a difference of opinion. Throw in the expansions of military detainment facilities like Guantanamo Bay that are underway, the anti-Christian sentiment found across the world, and the obvious discord flowing just under the surface of society. Somehow, this all has amplified by orders of magnitude in just a few short years. The atmosphere isn’t sustainable.
This is just one of the many (what I believe to be) prophetic dreams that I have been given. I plan on writing out the other dreams that I still can remember to this day. I will post them as I have time to write them out. Check back soon!