This Word came to me in a vision. It told of impending unrest in society and old machines of war coming alive from the grave.
I had nothing to write on except a stack of post-its that were at my side, so they are what I used.
The vision is very disturbing.
“As a society, the people were “sold” a plan, an ideal. Do this, attain this, and spend for this. Every day the same thing is given with a promise that it would make a person lose weight, gain wealth, and be the best. But the ‘ideal plan’ brought with it no real benefits, as it was empty and built on falsehoods. On the day of my vision there was nothing left to bait and switch the general public. The lie could be seen clearly. And so, the people QUESTIONED.
“Authority” retaliated, and oppression ensued.
The “authority” figures pressed hard. People in uniform whom themselves did not believe in the system, used force to keep it intact. And yet, the society was done with the deceit and oppression, and the “authority” began to break down.
World-wide, people found ways to work beyond the “authority”, to venture outside with a message of change…
In my vision I watched a young woman riding a lemon-yellow beach cruiser bicycle along a stretch of wet sand beach. She had brown skin, and was smiling as she rode along the shoreline, singing out loud this song…
“I am a young, beautiful woman – and I am FREE!”
Her smile beamed.
Just then, a shot rang out and she was killed by a bullet to the head. Her bike and body crashed to the sand. It was horrifying.
I turned to see who, where, and what had happened, and I saw a man. A white male with short Sandy hair, wearing a uniform which showed that he was an “authority” figure; was holding a firearm and saying with pride and smugness “and I am free to shoot you dead!”
It chilled me.
Elsewhere, I witnessed revolts, uprisings, and violence. Machines of war, ages old and from the past, came alive and headed out in procession.
One detail I was shown…
I watched as an old war machine woke from its place in an old dirt floored aircraft hangar. It’s tank tracks and rubber tires, long ago deteriorated and rotten, were embedded in the soil. The machines engine and mechanical parts were so old and seized up, there was no way it could ever operate again.
The machine was huge.
The old war machine was filthy, having been abandoned decades ago. And yet, as if awakened from death itself, it began to “breathe”.
I watched as the radiator bubbled, the exhaust began to belch, and the body work itself flexed. The machine soon lifted itself up and out of the soil it had been entombed within, rotten tires once again rolled, broken tank tracks moved forward.
This old and ancient machine of war began to move across the hanger floor and out of the big bay doors. It joined up and followed MANY other machines of war and destruction, in a single file line…
into the light of day.”