Jesus: Living Water

Journal Entry 04.07.2003:

Last night I talked to Jesus again the way I used to as a child. No dutiful, deliberate mantra repetition of his name in Aramaic - Yeshua, Yeshua - just a plain open-hearted talk and reconciliation. My heart felt broken somehow and I grew silent, eventually allowing that sorrow to do its own talking without the tongue verbalizing a single mental construct. Like this I fell asleep.

Dream:

I find myself on the ground floor of a tavern. The tavern is spotlessly clean and the barkeep and I are the only two people there. He's behind the bar drying shiny mugs and wiping down countertops. I am standing in the middle of the tavern as the barkeep watches me with a smile. He is a solidly built man in a tight white tee shirt. Though he keeps quiet, his calm, kind eyes speak volumes about his inner state. I find his presence protective and comforting, as well as uplifting. He keeps working in silence.

Everything is blue in the tavern, varying shades of blue, as if the space of consciousness itself, within which everything I am and see exists, consists of the finest blue light - soothing blue like a wash of moonlight on a cloud. Even the poured concrete floor is a fine powdery blue.

I notice now that a very light, ethereal kind of water is rising now from the floor. It is filling the tavern rapidly and in no time reaches my waist. I marvel at this water because, even though I am wading in it, I don't get wet. I collapse back into the water and gently sink down to the floor below. I'm still not wet, and yet I am supported by this water as if I were in a swimming pool or pond. From the floor below I look up to the surface. Everything above me appears just as it would from the bottom of a swimming pool, rippling, refracted, but crystal clear.

Delighted by this unearthly element, I play in the water for a good while before I am pulled elsewhere.

My attention is drawn to the next room. I leave the bar through a doorway on my right. In the corridor just inside the doorway I find two framed paintings hanging on the wall just above my head. The subject of one of the paintings is an old dark, wooden crucifix on a dreary, forsaken hilltop. As I study this crucifix it transforms into a decomposing corpse. The flesh of this corpse is actively peeling off its skeleton. The more I look at this picture, the heavier my heart becomes. Finally, I pull my eyes away and turn to face the other painting. This is a vibrant, beautiful portrat of Jesus smiling radiantly at me with a fearlessly present kind of love in his eyes.

When I see his smile and feel his love, my heart opens up to the bliss emanating from Jesus, and my body lifts off the ground ever so gently, and now my arms and hands on both sides also extend straight out from my shoulders. I find myself crucified in mid-air. The feeling overflowing my heart and washing through every cell of my body is of absolute surrender and ecstasy. Up from the core of my heart come these words, somehow enunciated simultaneously, as if I am speaking with two voices from my single mouth:

“I am healed! I am saved!”

Suspended in the air like this, crucified, my whole being undergoes an indescribable yet very palpable change. Once this inner transformation quickens and is complete within my being, I gently descend back down to the ground and find my feet again.

Overjoyed, I rush up the stairs to my bedroom now. It is an airy, bright and colorfully arranged room filled with goods and furnishings from all over the world. Sunlight flushes the room from a large window directly above the head of my bed. Through this large window and across the busy city street below, I see a handsomely built blonde man, a regal man in his prime, playing a silver flute on his 4th floor balcony. The man wears crisp white briefs and nothing more. He is disarmingly beautiful. I believe he must be an angel. As soon as our eyes meet, he pulls the flute away from his lips, smiles at me with an exquisite kind of love, and retreats behind drawn curtains into his apartment. In total joy, in key with the man with the flute across the way, I jump on my bed like a happy child, chanting over and over: “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”

A kind-eyed, warm-hearted man enters the room now. He has glowing chocolate brown skin, and he watches me with a sweet smile on his face. He is like a brother to me, though I don't really know who he is. He is happy to see me this way and greatly entertained by my singing and jumping on the bed. END

Three years after I had this dream I traveled to Abadiania, Brazil, to meet the healer John of God. My guide made arrangements for our group to stay at Hotel Amazonas. When I arrived at this hotel, I realized that it was the tavern from this very dream.