It was quite a day. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. after a typically unrestful sleep, but far earlier than even I was accustomed to getting up. My normal rise time is between 6:30 and 7. I lay there, trying to decide between endeavors at continued sleep (which I knew would be pointless) and getting up to have breakfast (! – at 4:30?!). At some point, I was seized by a new compulsive thought, which was to order some Bentonite clay and all-natural cleaning products via Whole Foods/Amazon (as of the previous evening, I was newly obsessed with detoxifying my life). After ordering said products, I did decide to work my way into making breakfast; I was genuinely hungry, not having eaten enough the night before. It was 5:45.

As I ate, I began to feel different… again. (For those who are new to me, I have struggled with a progressing psycho-spiritual issue involving seeming revelations, consolations, communications with Our Lord and various saints, an undiagnosed seeming neuromuscular disorder, gastrointestinal problems, food issues, and severe manic-depressive disorder, all wrapped up together in a nebulous tapestry of shifting threads or some other mixed metaphor that only approximates a description.) I noticed that my muscles were shifting in relation to my mental state that was also in relation to last night’s and this morning’s new orientation towards food (permission/restriction in eating, food selections, thoughts about eating, etc.) Suffice it to say that I thought that things were shifting towards normalcy and healing. This continued through the morning, praying, sitting in my chair scanning Twitter, and reading. One of the more unusual events was the inspiration to do some pushups and lunges; I never exercised, since I feared muscle spasms.

It came time for lunch, and I felt freed to eat as much as I needed and wanted, whereas normally I limited a meal to what I physically felt I could handle. I indulged in protein powder and fruit. There seemed to be no ill effects. It was soon after this, however, that dread began to set in. As was typical of my pattern, all of the progress towards normalcy with my muscle condition – what felt like 90% towards total healing – began to reverse. I could feel things gradually and then more rapidly slipping away, and I was filled with fear and remorse. I was sorry to God and sorry to myself for being so foolish. Then it dawned on me (and, I’m sorry to be so repetitive, but, again, this was typical of the pattern): I had been had. The devil that had been misleading me through temptations and visions of progress and freedom and self-determination had got me again, and now he was taking the false power away to show me my weakness and laugh at my shame. I could feel strength and joy and optimism ebbing away, like blood flowing out of my veins, with the taint of regret. And then another thought came: I really am severely bipolar and possibly schizophrenic, and I had better – after all this time – finally get to the ER and ask for psychiatric medications.

Later last night, I had another dream. I dreamed that there was a little dog, medium-small in size, long-haired, tan and off-white in color – so disheveled and sad and forlorn and sick-looking. (I recognized it later today in my reflection as symbolizing myself.) Its collar was attached to a leash, and the leash had gotten stuck in an elevator, that was heading downwards, dragging the leash and the poor little dog with it. The dog was not terribly harmed, however just a little bit shaken up and gently beaten up by the impact with the elevator door. It had such a look of resignation and sadness on its face. As I looked at the dog in this moment, it was then that I saw a pile of its feces under and next to it. The poor dog. The fecal matter was much of it old, indicating how long this problem of its waste accumulating with no one to clean up after it had been going on. I felt so bad for it. I wanted to adopt it and take care of it, but I did not feel strong enough. We were in an apartment, and an old coworker, whose name also was Michael, was there. He was tall and thick-set and very energetic. I asked him to take care of the dog, which he readily, happily did. All the while, as I observed Michael with the dog, I wished that I were strong and healthy enough to take care of it myself. Sometimes Michael and I would have very friendly and energized conversations – very enjoyable. He sometimes dressed very playfully. Sometimes we would go out in his car on an adventure…

Last night, I dreamed that I was Paul McCartney in a 1970’s-era (end-of-band) Beatles performance. I was at the keyboard (this band had a keyboard – I was not playing guitar) and singing. I was singing, “God is Lord! God is Lord!” over and over again. Those were the lyrics. I was having difficulty, however, keeping in rhythm with the beat – always slightly behind or ahead of it. I remember thinking, as I was watching myself perform, that it would be so much easier if I would just let go, let go of the feeling of a need for control over myself – and then I could so much more easily stay with the beat, stay in rhythm.

When I was reflecting this morning, I thought particular of the words I was singing. “God is Lord!” I thought, that’s just what Mary (a very holy woman I knew briefly, who played a part that was so instrumental in my spiritual healing) said to me – that, when I am battling in darkness, to recite a Bible verse or to proclaim the greatness of God in some way, any way I can. That’s what I did in the dream. It’s that of which the Holy Spirit perhaps was reminding me at this crucial moment. It has been such a tremendously difficult period lately.

I dreamt that I was in a massive stadium filled with people.  In the center was a stage or dais, on which Pope Francis was conducting a rally.  His face was an untrustworthy mask of chiding, admonishing, exhortation in his usual style.  Soon, though, Pope Benedict XVI moved in from this side, from Francis’s right, and began to commandeer the rally.  Now he was exhorting the masses of people with genuine exhortation to faith and hope and zeal and courage and perseverance.  The people were cheering and shouting in response.  He said something like, “The MARKS [of something… like, of the faithful… of faithful people… or courageous Christians… or the Remnant… ??] are THREE [in number]…”. He held up his hand, palm facing himself, and raised the middle three fingers.  It was a significant gesture that stood out and arrested my attention.  I was seeing the hand close up.  The three fingers looked like a “W” to me…  Then there was some commotion, some shuffling on the stage…  And then I was looking at the Sun setting.  The sky was streaked with deep-orange-red at the top, orange in the middle, and, towards the horizon,  dull yellow with long dark clouds that resembled smoke.  The Sun was setting – but I only saw this for a moment…  Then, for and even briefer instant, I saw the night sky with a constellation in the shape of a cross suspended there…  Then I woke up.

Friend: Southern Cross constellation is in the Southern Hemisphere, perhaps visible where the Amazon Synod is taking place.

Me: That’s a definite possibility regarding the symbolism.  Since it came after the flaming sunset, it could also mean hope in Christ’s cross through the dark night…

It is known that B-XVI’s abdication was invalid and that he remains the true Pope.  Now, many Catholics are rallying for his shepherding.  With his breaking his 6-year silence with that powerful essay indicting the sexual revolution of the ‘60s for its destructive impact on contemporary morals and sexual practices, linking them directly to the current Church crisis – in addition to making a public presence again little by little – he seems to be responding to the perceived need for his pastoral leadership and taking responsibility for the call.

Regarding the formation of B-XVI’s fingers, I just in a flash realized what it reminded me of – a certain letter of the Hebrew alphabet that I’d seem many times.  I Googled Hebrew letter that looks like a “W,” and I found this…

Friend: Shin… I searched and was lead to PSALM119 [118]  Glories of God’s law. The longest Psalm in the Book.    Also, according to Bl. Catherine Anne Emmerich, this is what Jesus and the Apostles read /chanted Maudy Thursday night (before the Eucharist).

 

Princes have persecuted me without cause: and my heart hath been in awe of thy words. [162] I will rejoice at thy words, as one that hath found great spoil. [163] I have hated and abhorred iniquity; but I have loved thy law. [164] Seven times a day I have given praise to thee, for the judgments of thy justice. [165] Much peace have they that love thy law, and to them there is no stumbling block.

[166] I looked to thy salvation, O Lord: and I loved thy commandments. [167] My soul hath kept thy testimonies: and hath loved them exceedingly. [168] I have kept thy commandments and thy testimonies: because all my ways are in thy sight.

http://www.oocities.org/fibredrive/messages/message10.htm

I dreamt that I was in an ice cream shop.  Pope Francis was behind the counter, giving Communion. I received the Host in my mouth from him, and I tasted something slightly sticky-sweet-soft around the edges.  I looked at him, and I understood that he had ice cream on his hands from scooping and serving it to people.  I took this too mean that he serves people something seemingly sweet and good and “soft,” non-threatening – but which is in reality devoid of real nutritional value, full of empty substance that is harmful to the health, all behind the guise of a sacrament of the Church and sustenance from Christ.  I knew that my friends and I had to get to safety and hunker down in preparation for tribulations to come – aggressively false teachings, attacks to our faith, and persecutions of those who believe the Truth.  I knew of a remote house at the top of a tall hill – and that we had to take this high ground as a strategic defense and for our safety.  However, the house was not completely impenetrable.  Sinister bishops were still infiltrating it, passing through our living room, moving towards us, moving almost like zombies with a half-conscious and slightly dragging gait – I knowing, when I looked at their arms at their sides, that they had harmful intentions towards us.  We were nervous – but not truly scared, as we knew that this was our house and had to defend it..  We were running around, trying to evade bishops and take defensive positions…  Then I woke up.

Friend: That is a lot of detail. Do you recall colors?

Me: The ice cream tainting the host was pink.

The shop was white with a glass counter … but dimly lit, grey atmosphere.

The hill was mostly rocky and barren, brown.

There were green houseplants in the house…

Bishops in cassocks etc. of normal colors.

Please – I fervently ask all to have charity towards all living in sin and error and to forswear all hateful name-calling and invective in corrections – for these are children of God led astray by men and the Devil. Do not call out “sodomites,” for there is judgment in it.

I’m going to say something that I don’t share lightly or often. I was a homosexual for many years and was converted by the Holy Spirit through the Blessed Mother years ago. I have hatred for this web of sin more than most for the evil trap of destruction of lives from the Devil that it is

I hate this web of sin, this quasi-Hell of an ocean of poison more than many could. I also know the pain and confusion, defensiveness and anger, illusions and fear that these people live and the lives they tenuously try to support more than anyone who hasn’t can.

It is sufficient to say, “homosexuals.” You use the other term in order to have dramatic and judging effect. Judgment is in the Word of God; it is not ours. Call out sin, do nothing to express hatred – but only love – towards to sinner. That is the Gospel.

Be sad, be angry – but have sensitivity towards such a turbulent web of poison and destruction in which these souls thrash. Remember charity – correction with restraint of self, humility, and love of God first, neighbor close second, self last. Don’t play into the Devil’s trap.

Have pity – and pray for them.

A mourning dove just flew into my bathroom (where I am) from the kitchen. All the doors were closed. Miracle? Sign? The poor creature is trying to get out… I will try to help…

Later:

I opened the kitchen door, left propped open with a broom, and shooed the poor dear towards the opening, wing and heart beating rapidly to freedom.

Then I remembered that, this morning at Mass, as I was returning to my place after receiving the Eucharist, that I saw a black beetle near the vestibule door, flipped onto its back, legs twitching. A kind man came to sweep it with a St. Jude prayer card towards the outside door and away.

I was then able to reflect on the possible meaning of all this. Yesterday was very hard, both physically and spiritually. I felt as in prison by my financial circumstances, wanting to move to better circumstances but unable to do so for a promise to wait for Jesus to move me.

I very pathetically was begging Jesus for mercy – not even as a prayer, but in a whimper. I was sinking into weakness (also being very tired from the trying night before) – losing faith and wanting to do it my way.

Then, twice this morning, I witnessed a poor trapped creature – one hobbled by physical disability, the other imprisoned by circumstances and very frantic – delivered by One of compassion and mercy. I’ve long known this, but I’m reminded: Hang on. Deliverance is coming.

The song on the radio this morning, in my Uber to Mass: Nick Jonas’s “Sucker” – “I’m a sucker for you/Just say the word and I’ll go anywhere blindly…”. Jonah was trapped in the belly of the whale for three days and nights, captured in his run-away from the city of Nineveh, where God had intended for him to be a prophet to the people in sin, lest the city be destroyed (Nineveh was the capital city of Assyria, a ruthless and warlike nation that was the enemy of Israel – the prophet, in his own sinful anger and resentment, desiring to see the Ninevites perish) – and then he was spit back up on the city’s shores…

Addendum 1:

When I first spied the black beetle on the floor at Mass… inexplicably, it brought to mind a dream I had about my mother and sister over a year ago, before I moved to Las Vegas: two huge rats were in my house, ugly and dirty and mean, with matted fur and bearing sharp teeth – one old and gray and more tired, collapsing in the corner in self-pity, unmotivated to do anything but languish; the other orange-red, active, angry, menacing and charging at me. I lanced both of them; the gray one simply expired, but the red one became demure and my pet. Shortly after this dream, the following day, I understood the “lance” to be unconditional love… But in remembering this dream as I looked at the trapped beetle, my attention was drawn to the gray rat...

Addendum 2:

As I edit this post two hours later, adding in the dream of the rats, I hear a crunching just outside the kitchen screen door. I look to see that same mourning dove milling about in the leaves a few feet away…

Yes, I am anti-choice. I am anti-choice to bomb a church or synagogue. I am anti-choice to practice discrimination based on race or religion. I am anti-choice to traffic other people. I am anti-choice to abuse a spouse or child. And I am anti-choice to kill a living child in the womb. Choice does not equal rightness. Free will does not equal free license license to commit heinous, barbaric acts against other human beings that live and breathe and have beating hearts and feel pain – and deserve the recognition of the dignity of their souls protection of their lives. And it does not – anywhere in this Universe – naturally or rightfully pave the way for choice unchecked by the rights of others or forces greater than the self – or the legalization of choices that violate them. We all have choice. What we allow by law is another matter. And what we allow by law should not permit the monstrous destruction of others or society itself.

There can be no “Resistance” to the current administration, because there is no oppression of citizens; open criticism, opposition , argument, and dissent are widely tolerated and permitted – whether in government, mass media, or among citizens (the fights over defined rights, law, policy, and values being natural to a representative government and allowed by our Constitution). The opposition, however, in its leadership does not tolerate or permit opposition, criticism, argument, or dissent, and it is totalitarian in its grasp for the thoughts and speech of the populace. And the most subject to oppression is Christianity. To this there can – and must – exist a Resistance. Speak the truth always, without fear or veiling. Be humble, but allow yourself to be God’s instrument. Promote truth and speak out against evil. Turn the other cheek when attacked and give yourself up when they come for you. Be firm and clear in your faith, love and pray for our enemies. Love and care for and stay close to your brothers and sisters and never abandon them. Christian resistance is passive where it concerns them and active where it concerns God. Pray for our country.

Friend: You know exactly what you’re doing, Mike.

Me: No, I don’t. Jesus is in charge.

That’s all I know…