Dream of Iran

Dream of Iran

While staying in an old home in the Middle East, I walked a path toward the River, watching golden stalks of wheat swaying gently in the wind.

After returning to the home, suddenly the Ayatollah appeared in the hallway, with blackened eye sockets and charred bones, yet somehow still alive. His shoulders were hunched over and his face misshapen from years of spewing out hatred and he was being filled with a sickly green vapor that seemed to prop him up. As he limped from the upstairs to the basement, his gait became more sure and steady.

As he descended, I called the police who quickly sent an Iranian SWAT team. They actually looked Israeli as they lamented the fact that the world hates them. I told them that we Israelis have the same problem and there was an instant bonding!

After I whispered to one that the Ayatollah was hiding in the basement, he recommended that I leave the house immediately. However, a large PAJ, Prophetic Artists Journey group was just arriving at the other end of the house as more SWAT warriors arrived.

So I quickly led the group outside on the path to the site we’d explored before, where the Maccabi’s had brought down the brutal regime that once held them in captivity. However I missed the first entrance so we had to take the second one and when we arrived at the edge of a steep cliff, we watched in wonder as the blue River violently churned and stirred up grey waves while dark clouds viciously exploited the skies. Yet we were filled with tremendous peace.

Dec 9, 2025