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PZ547
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re: dreams and things
Several times I've had precognitive dreams, extremely accurate. Fortunately, in most instances, I've retold the dream to others before the events manifested in what we call 'real life'. In a few instances, those to whom I told the dream beforehand were actually there when the events manifested in 'reality'
So that was good, imo, because it alerted others to precognitive dreams and confirmed that they occur
As to 'angels', I've had a few experiences of what we might call divine intervention. A few remain stark in my mind for the simple reason that had they not occurred, I doubt I'd be here today.
(1) As a kid engaged in a task on a high roof, I was inches from going over the roof backwards, when I felt a hand on my back. Absorbed in my task and forgetting how high I was, I automatically pressed backwards against the hand, but it wouldn't let me move any further. The hand felt as solid and strong as any real adult's hand. Only when I snapped out of my daydreams and 'came to' as it were, did I look around to see who was there. I was utterly alone, I discovered. And it was only at that point, wide awake now and two floors up on the rooftop, that I realised with a surge of adrenaline that I was within a yard of the edge. If I'd gone over backwards, it's doubtful I would have survived
(2) Driving through rural Queensland as a passenger at night. We were in good spirits, hadn't seen another car for miles. The only lights, apart from those of our car, were from occasional farmhouses, off in the distance. Then we saw a light maybe a mile away. Thought it was another hill-top farm, but as we drew closer, we saw they were lights from a car parked on the wrong side of the road in the grass verge ahead. We slowed and a man ran into the road, waving his arms.
We were young, on holiday, in a good mood. We were under the 'holiday spell', whereby you feel everything is safe. We pulled up ahead of the other car and my friend, who was driving, wound his window down half way. The guy who'd been waving his arms came up close to the window, almost put his head inside our car. He repeated in a husky voice, ' Gas, gas', and we gathered he needed petrol
My friend was just about to switch off our motor and step out to siphon some petrol out of our car to give the other guy, but at that same moment, adrenaline hit me like lightening -- totally out of the blue. Without knowing why or stopping to think about it, I yelled to him, 'Go ! Go ! Get out of here ! '. He took his foot off the brake, turned to me with a shocked expression, and we shot forward
I twisted in my seat and looked behind us. What I saw explained things. In the glow of our car's rear lights, I saw the guy who'd spoken to us. His face was distorted with rage. But behind him was a second, bigger guy, one we hadn't even known had been there. Like the first guy, he looked like a wolf. And in his hands was a large length of wood
I've no doubt they planned to cosh my friend the minute he stepped from our car. I would have been next. I had the strong feeling they'd done it before. We would probably have been found in a gully within a week or two, picked over by crows
(3) I'd run back to my flat to get something. Took longer than I expected. By the time I got back to the corner, the others had taken off without me
Maybe they'd decided I was too young to go along. They were going to a party at an address which had been handed out on slips of paper during the night. So there I was, feeling left out, excluded
Then a guy stepped out from a doorway. I knew him vaguely as the cousin of one of the others. He summed up the situation and offered to give me a lift to the party
Everything was fine for ten minutes or so. Then, he swung onto a road I didn't recognise. Didn't worry me to begin with, because I didn't know the address of our destination anyway
The road became a side-road. The side-road became a one-laner. Then that turned to a track. Finally, we were driving along down a twisty clay-type, rutted goat-track. By then, it was so narrow that bushes and branches were slapping the side windows. No lights anywhere apart from our headlights - no shops, no houses, nothing. And by then I was aware of an atmosphere in the car itself. I turned to the driver and tried to chat to ease things, but he stared straight ahead and didn't reply, apart from smiling to himself
Finally, I managed to get some sort of verbal response from him. He turned his head in my direction as he spoke, No way to describe his eyes other than as dried, cracked marbles. I was scared and he knew it. And I'd remembered the rumours about him, about how he was a rapist who could suddenly 'go off', act crazy and bash people almost to death for no reason
I didn't want him to know how scared I was because I sensed he was enjoying it. At the time my brain wouldn't work properly, apart from accepting that he was driving us right into the bush, no one for miles who could help, and the track was so narrow and bushy by this point, it was certain to end altogether very soon. He was a lot bigger and stronger than I was and probably had a weapon
At that point, something approaching a miracle occurred. There's no way to explain it. A motor-bike was suddenly right next to my side of the car. Gave me a shock. Don't even know how it could fit, because the trees were smashing into the car on either side
I stared at it, couldn't process it. The bike-rider wore a helmet and for some reason I couldn't make out his face, although he was looking right at me, inches away. Then, he somehow maneuvred his bike in front of the car and began making waving movements with his arm
The psycho next to me swore under his breath, said 'Cop', but he couldn't get around the bike so he had to slow and pull up. The bike rider walked to psycho's side window and asked why he was here and where was he planning to go. Psycho told him an address. The policeman told him he was a long way off track, in a way that made it clear he suspected it was deliberate. Then he told psycho, ' You follow me'. He came around to my window, looked inside the car, asked, 'You ok?'. Then we followed him. It was a relief to eventually get back amongst some lights, bitumen and civilization. He led us to the address. All my friends' cars were parked outside and some came out to see what was happening. The psycho tried to make light of what had happened
A few years later, I heard the psycho was dead. It seemed he'd stolen a car at a service station while the woman who owned it went to pay for petrol. She'd left the keys inside it. When the psycho realised there was a baby in the back seat in a carry-cot, he dumped the car in the middle of a street several miles away. The baby was unharmed, but apparently it's father was a policeman. The psycho was apprehended later and was found dead in the cells at Parramatta lock-up, apparently. Suffocated, they said, and not by his own hand
I saw and heard the policeman, so he must have been real. But was he ?
Precognitive dreams are fascinating. It only takes one verifiable example to turn Time and life as we believe it to be, on their heads. And as I said earlier, I've not only experienced extremely accurate and verifiable precognitive dreams (as have thousands, millions of others) they were spontaneous, witnessed by others and thus confirmed
In short, the future is already written, preordained. Which makes a mockery of all our plans and schemes, although even when we realise this, we continue to believe we determine our own destiny
All that remains, really, is discovery of Who/What is doing the preordination. Who is the scriptwriter ? Why are we required to perform, like puppets ? What purpose does it serve ?
Or, instead of our dreams foretelling the future, are we instead echoes of things which have already happened, of lives which have already been lived ? In other words, despite our belief to the contrary - does Time run backwards ? Are our supposed 'precognitive dreams' simply memories of things which have already passed ? Are we simply deluded ghosts ? That would be a laugh, wouldn't it ?
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