1) The Coming of the Lord (July, 1972, Prince Albert, Saskatchewan)
I had this dream before I was a believer, in the summer of 1972, in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. This was likely in July, and possibly on July 10. It was the first time the Lord had ever appeared or spoken to me. I was 26 years old, single, working for Homes Canada Inc., selling mobile homes. I was living in a basement light housekeeping suite in the home of Murray and Ila Garneau. Some days before, I had fasted for three days and three nights, without food or drink. I had been searching for God, spending several nights over months, struggling at my bedside, begging, sometimes on my knees, for God to show Himself. I was empty, lonely, desperate, and contemplating suicide. I had no purpose in life.
The dream began with a voice saying, “The Indians are coming! The Indians are coming! They are raiding our gardens! Hurry up, everybody! Get your guns! The Indians are coming!” It seemed I was one of the servants in a great household or community of some kind. I headed to the back of the house and into a porch where the armaments were supposed to be. I looked on the walls and saw guns and bows hanging, but they were all broken and useless.
I then heard the voice say to me, “Never mind then. Just go out and see what they are doing.” I went out, and as I stepped out the back door, I walked into a beautiful, verdant, and fruitful garden, with bountiful trees amidst low shrubs and plants full of fruit. There I saw the Indians, American natives, dressed much as they and we dress today. They were clean, respectable, and full of peace and joy. They were gathering fruits and vegetables from the garden. The women were gathering into their baskets and aprons, and the men into baskets. Plainly, they were anything but a threat.
As I watched them, I partially understood their spirits, and I knew what was happening. They were gathering from the garden, yes, but it was their garden, not ours. Secondly, they were gathering not for themselves, but for us, to give to us. They were not taking; they were giving, joyfully and thankfully.
I walked into the garden and passed through it and past them. On the other side, I found myself on city streets, with buildings all around, and it seemed that I was walking south, in Calgary, past what seemed to be the McMahon Stadium on my right. Then it seemed that I was approaching the edge of a city block, neighborhood, or the earth.
Suddenly, everything went very still and silent. Not a thing could be heard, felt, or seen moving. There were people to my left and behind me. We were all facing in one direction, lined up along the edge of what seemed the block, city, or even the earth. Something was happening.
As I looked ahead, out on the horizon, I saw a great white building on the right of my “screen.” It was rectangular in shape, and seemed to be three or four stories high, yet thousands of stories high. It had windows all over it, each window covered with a cloud. It had a large entrance, also covered with cloud. I could not see the bottom of this building, which was concealed by the horizon. It began to move slowly and very smoothly leftward on my screen. The smoothness seemed like that of a great ship or barge, on glass-smooth waters.
When it reached the center of the screen, it stopped. The clouds covering the entrance dispersed to reveal a large and spacious entrance without doors, something like what one would see with large governmental or parliamentary buildings. It had several and wide steps up to the entrance. The entrance was dark, and it seemed that the building was dark inside. On each side of the entrance stood a giant man, armed with spear or javelin, I think, standing “at ease,” feet astride, with weapon arm stretched out to the side. These men seemed to be perhaps twelve to sixteen feet tall, and glorious. I judged them to be angels guarding the entrance.
Then appeared a red path inside forming on the floor, proceeding to the entrance and the stairs. It seemed like a flowing red carpet, wide enough for two persons to walk side by side on it. Two men appeared on it. As it formed, they walked on it. It came down the stairs, and they came down the stairs. They walked slowly and steadily, with glory, dignity, and in relaxation. The path was approaching us, in the center of the screen, and they walked toward us on the path.
All people stood transfixed, not knowing what was happening. As the two men approached us, I suddenly realized that one was none other than the Lord Jesus Christ! I began to be very afraid, because I also began to realize that this was what I, at the time, understood to be the “Second Coming.”
Why was I afraid? I was born and indoctrinated as a Catholic. The Catholic Church teaches that if one has a mortal (serious) sin on his soul and dies in that state, or if the Lord comes while one is in that state, the soul goes to hell to burn forever in horrible torment. Ten trillion years later, there is no parole; it is just beginning. Believing that, was there not good reason for fear, seeing I knew I was not right with God? I was never so afraid before, or since.
Just ahead of me, and a little to my right, about ten to fifteen feet away or so, stood two men with their backs to me, apparently farmers, looking at what was unfolding before their eyes. One said to the other: “What’s going on here?” Knowing what was going on, realizing that it was indeed the Lord Jesus Christ, and that the end of the world was here, I was in great fear. I did not say it, but I thought to say these words to those men: “What the hell is the matter with you?! Don’t you know what’s going on? It’s the Second Coming of Christ, that’s what’s going on!” I was overcome with fear and desperation.
As the two men drew nearer, Jesus being on the right, and the other man on His left, I saw His face. What a face! I had never before or have I since seen anything like it. Plainly, there is nothing like it. He was Love, Wisdom, Peace, Power, Perfection, and Authority Incarnate. He was Lord not by position only, but by His very nature.
His face was distinctly Jewish, yes, Jewish, yet it was universal. Seeing His face, I could readily understand the meaning, value, and importance of the Second Commandment, which says, “You shall not make to yourselves any graven image or likeness of anything….” I perceived that any picture or statue man might make to portray the face of the Lord Jesus Christ would not only misrepresent Him or fall short of the true, it would be blasphemous. It would be a product of the flesh, which is, as the Bible declares, at enmity with God. Any pictures or statues I have seen of the Lord Jesus in homes or churches or anywhere, no matter how skilled the artists, are abominable compared to the Reality. They are a lie.
There was no condemnation in His face at all towards me, despite the way I was. My fear was because of my unbelief and sin, and because of my lack of understanding. It was not because of Him. Plainly, He was not there to condemn or to hurt. Yet, in the light of His character, I was found to be vile. I felt so dirty, so corrupt. Should I fall on my knees? I found that very difficult, being proud. Should I fall prostrate? That was even more difficult. I also knew that if I did fall before Him in body, I would not be doing so in heart. I knew that my corruption was unacceptable in His sight, and that anything I did to try to honor Him was vain and impossible, by my very nature. I dropped to my knees, groveling in mud, it seemed, though there was no mud except for perhaps me. I was doomed, and I knew it.
Jesus was dressed in robes and all royal attire. He had a neat beard, not short, not long, and His hair was not long, as usually depicted. He was taller than the man with Him. The man with Him also was distinctly Jewish, but not universal as was the Lord Jesus. He too had the same kind of hair and beard, and was dressed in royal clothing. I did not know who the man was. As he walked, he kept focused on the face of Jesus. He was glowing with admiration. I did not realize until 27 or 28 years later that what I also had seen in his face was thankfulness, accompanied with joy. I did not recognize it at the time of the dream. I only knew that what I saw was peace and deep reverence.
The man tenderly held the left hand of the Lord in front of him at waist level. While the man supported the Lord, the Lord was supporting the man – there was a wonderful and harmonious relationship and work taking place there. They two together also seemed to be carrying a cushion before them with something on it; but I do not recall seeing or knowing what it was, but I think it was a crown. While Jesus looked ahead at the people, the man seldom did. The man would take the occasional glance, but mostly his gaze was fixed on the Lord’s face. Jesus would sometimes raise His right hand and acknowledge the rare one in the crowd. He did not acknowledge the two farmers, and He did not acknowledge me. I was condemned, not by Him, but in myself.
As the two men drew near us, their path continuing without stopping, they then turned to their right (toward the left of my screen). They continued walking in front of and past the crowd. The moment they had turned to their right, the great white building, which had remained in the background, still in the middle of the picture, began to move in the same direction as the men, to the left in my view. Again, it moved at the same slow, steady, and super smooth pace.
The dream ended, and I awoke with my sleep shirt soaked with perspiration. I was absolutely terrified, slightly relieved that it was but a dream and not the reality. It was so real that when awoke, I wondered if it was not a revelation to me of what was absolutely established would be, with no hope of change. The effect of that dream, though terrifying, was that I would seek after God, try my utmost to change my life, and seek to be accepted of Him, whatever that would take. I shared that dream with many, who marveled at it.
Who was the man walking at the left hand of the Lord? Twelve years later, at the KOA trailer campground at Lethbridge, Alberta, the Lord revealed to me who he was. I was astounded.
2) The Indians
For the first while after the dream, I found myself pondering about how the dream had begun, with Indians, and how happy they were, and I wondered what they had to do with the “Second Coming.” I then received another dream, a word dream only. A voice posed this question to me: “Victor, why do you think those Indians had such peaceful faces?” Suddenly, it seemed I knew, but before I could answer, the voice said to me: “Because they had spiritual, not physical food.”
I set out to eliminate all vices and to practice all virtues. In my attempt to live a good life, one I thought I needed to live to be acceptable to God, I was soon to learn how impossible that was. If a man can catch the wind in his fists, he can live a righteous life. I became despondent, feeling so powerless and helpless. I couldn’t understand why it was so hard to do and to be “good.” I was about to quit altogether after weeks or months of trying and failing, when I had a third dream.
3) Go On; Don’t Stop
In this dream, I was at the bottom of a long set of stairs that led down to a dark basement. There was an open door at the top, with light shining in. I was at the bottom of the stairs, squatting on the floor, naked, and purging myself. I heard a voice come from the doorway saying, “For one and a quarter, you have had the word; for one forty-five, you will have the life.” I took it to mean that I was to go on, to not give up, to keep trying, that I was almost there. In that persisting, I would reach the desired goal. The dream encouraged me to continue seeking after God, and to strive to be good.
Weeks or months later, in February of 1973, George Lynn, a man in his sixties, came up to Prince Albert to service our company’s mobile homes. I recall the first time I went to see him, and to welcome him. I saw him through the window, while approaching his door, sitting in a chair, not watching TV, not reading anything, but simply sitting there. It struck me. He seemed to have peace. I had already been searching for life, its purpose and meaning.
He shared the Scriptures with me in his motel room evenings, and in the office during the day. At the end of about seven days, I asked that we pray. We got down on our knees, not an easy thing for a proud, stogy-smoking sales manager to do, and I began to pray. I was surprised. I didn’t know how to pray, or what to say. George coached me, telling me that all I had to do was talk to God as I would an older man, with respect for Him. He guided me to confess myself a sinner, and helpless to do anything about it. How I knew that to be true! I had been searching in the occult, seeking out other religions, trying to be good, and in failing, I had run out of options and answers. George was telling me that Jesus was the answer, that faith in His blood and resurrection was the way, and that receiving Him as Lord, to take over my life, was the only way. I submitted, by the grace of God. In the next days, I found I was changing, with vices disappearing and virtues coming forth, and I did not have to make it happen. How wonderful … not easy, not magical, but now possible, and wonderful!
I do not recall having any more dreams or visions for a while.
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