These past few weeks have found me pondering a place called Heaven.  It is an ancient realm all peoples have sought to enter. But what and where is Heaven? Does Heaven have streets of gold?  Why do we associate Heaven with the skies above?  In our quest to see beyond the bounds of Earth, sending probes into the farthest reaches of an endlessly expanding universe, still no tangible Heaven has been added to the map. In the Bible it is written that both Elijah and Jesus ascended into the sky.  And it is a common consensus that everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die to get there. Except for the two who notably ascended, death is the only way for the rest of us to get there.  Oh, and we can’t get back here once we take up residency there.  So, if Heaven is not here and it is not up there – Heaven may not be what culture and legend portray.  Therefore, I was pondering…is Heaven a place, or a dimension?  We have more than a clue.

Jesus tells us that God is spirit.

“God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”

John 4:24

The spirit of God is in all His creation, resides in our hearts generation after generation, and limitless in the ability to be where He wants to be without the physical constraints of body, time, or matter.  If our eternity is to be where God is, and God is spirit, we truly have more in common with a moth or butterfly metamorphosing from what was once a caterpillar, now unhindered and fulfilled in a new body.  We still identify as ourselves but live as spirit – just as God is spirit.

Then I ran across this note written to myself immediately after having been given a vision several years ago.  It could not have arrived at a better time. 


February 26, 2018:

I am busy with life, a new position and stretched to meet all demands. Aside from work there is a project helping my Daughter and her Husband remodel their house. I then found myself in an office having a discussion with someone I work with who knows about my getting orthodontic braces. She has had them and shared how much it hurts at first. Another person in the room agrees. I listened to each bit of advice and assurance they offered. All too soon it was time for me to be getting back to work. We said “good-bye” to one another before I turned to step out of the sunlit office, walk a short, dimly lit connecting hallway, and into a waiting elevator.

The door closed.

It was an unexceptional elevator with sleek but nondescript appointments aside from a handrail at the back. This observance was proven to be woefully incorrect within moments! As the elevator ascended it changed shape and form three times. Before too long it had taken on the shape of a temporary job site construction gantry elevator. The once solid walls and door transformed to those of expanded steel mesh and had become fully open to the outdoor elements as I could feel the breeze of a cool and overcast day flowing through.

The elevator continued its upward travel until suddenly stopping at another floor. The door opened and a man I recognized as being the twin of a woman stepped in. This fellow was in the elevator only long enough to say “hello” and ask for pardon as he worked his way past me.  Wearing an electrician’s tool belt, he climbed up and through the ceiling of the elevator’s metal hatchway. He was on top of the elevator cage…and then gone. Remarkable. Once the door closed again, I turned and looked at the only other person in the elevator, a dark eyed man whom I had not noticed before and his expression at the oddness of what had happened. He looked only slightly bemused and smiled back.

The elevator changed again.

The walls loosened and began to move, unfolding like a cardboard box, one flap opening to reposition and then another. The elevator had already gone from a sleek form to a framed steel cage.  Here it was becoming a ramshackle crate-like box of ancient wood boards. It had obviously been brush painted uncounted times over the decades resulting in layers of aged coatings curling and peeling away, exposing the rough wood grain substrate. The sides then flipped to become the floor and ceiling. As this happened, the dark-eyed man and I repositioned often to adjust and find stable footing. There was a moment when I stepped between the boards and thought how easy it would be to fall out.  Transformation continued unabated as the box that had been going up was now going sideways and turned upon its side… with the center of gravity not where or what it had been. If to explain, I was standing on a floor that should be a sidewall. The elevator box was also moving at an accelerated speed in what I would consider normally to be called sideways, but in our new position and orientation, we were headed straight up. And then we began to move as if in an airplane going to the side, cruising above what looked like the Earth with mountains and valleys, but it was not earth as I recognized it.

The elevator was flying free.

We were still moving outside but not in an elevator shaft or on a lifting cable.  Along with a rough window opening, the old wooden boards had gaps between them where I could see everything. Nothing looked normal. My eyes raced to capture the extremely vivid hues of everything rushing by, straining as to not miss a thing. The terrain was immensely rugged and lush, the sky so new and not what I was used to. I didn’t see the sun, but a source of light was bathing everything evenly in its permeating radiance. 

The elevator box suddenly decreased in speed and altitude, descending to a surprisingly well buffered landing. It did not plummet or crash, but “arrived”.
It had perched on an outcropping in a hilly landscape covered with thick grass. It would seem we had landed in the middle of nowhere. The door opened. The man and I stepped out onto a dirt path. He walked away a different direction than I but seemed totally at peace with where he was going.
Stopping just a few feet from the elevator box I looked around to assess this beautiful place. Taking in my breath I noted the air was fragrant and alive. There is no way to describe the saturation of color or its intensity of this place as the dirt, grass, hills, and vegetation all burst with the most diverse palette of colors; oh my.

It was quiet and tranquil.

I could see people walking towards me, smiling. I walked by some, but no one spoke. It’s not that they were tight lipped or being indifferent, as I could discern that everyone here was “warm”.  My spirit could “hear” their unspoken, positive words. Several more were a-ways off on a path just below the outcropping where the elevator box had stopped.
I walked down a narrow dirt path to get to where I saw those people. They smiled at me and a woman with long wavy reddish hair emerged from them and approached me. She looked familiar, as if we had met before. There was a sense of wisdom about her, and although she did not speak with her mouth, I could hear what she was saying. She wanted me to follow her. As she walked, she was also kneading a ball of dough between her hands…almost without touching the dough. I marveled that the dough did not fall, but stayed hovering between her hands as she patted and worked it.
It pretty much levitated.
It did not make her hands sticky.
And as we walked, she never stopped kneading the dough.

We started walking down the path into a valley of sorts.


hen we entered something of a common area. It looked like it could be a shelter, but I didn’t notice that anyone needed shelter. No one exhibited any sense of urgency as everyone I encountered seemed to be at complete peace. 
The woman led me to a sheltered place where she kept this dough. It was everywhere!
Humble racks of dough in every shape, size, and color filled the space. Some were like a cheese wheel, others had been formed into large, softly rounded cubes.  Many had the visual appearance of colorful loaves. And every color was a delightful pastel, like Conchas (traditional Mexican sweet bread). The largest blocks of dough were stacked lowest, with just the right amount of space between them, forever rising. Without a sound I expressed my feelings of surprise, awe, and joy over these delicious things. Were they for food I asked?  The woman never stopped kneading dough between her hands. Her smile assured me that there was no need to eat.

This was bread in endless supply. 

She then beckoned me to follow her further. The path brought us to yet another shelter of sorts and there were many people gathered in the area. I could feel the deep contentment of peace emanating from all who inhabited this place. They were joyfully celebrating non-stop. The woman stopped me with a gesture. She smiled, then reached up with her hand and removed my baseball cap. The bread stayed levitated in position as she did this. The cap had a Volkswagen logo on it. Without words she told me there are no cars here so there’s no need for that. I thought my hair might be quite a mess. She gave me this knowing look that nothing was ever a mess. Leaving the celebrants, we walked toward a bluff where a path meandered down to a river and what appeared to be water. It dazzled, sparkled, and felt like the essence of LIFE itself.

At once I began to understand where I was.

And that this is the same woman who showed me how God pulls us like glass. 

Wake and write it down

ADD NOTE: With God nothing is random. His perfect love is given through perfect direction and understanding. We are to pay attention. It is not lost on me that this vision came exactly 6 years to the day from the previous vision with the same woman. I wrote of it in this article “Lump of Coal

By Jeffery Plummer
Insights for living holy in Christ, Jeffery Plummer


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