The 1998 Season

Note: 1998 was the second season that I wrote down thoughts the entire year. Therefore, the 1998 season summary will come in multiple additions to my blog. Today's 1998 entry will be May thoughts.

May 1998 Prophecy

Rise up, bold warriors,

Old Celtic poem

I was in Denver this week on business. I always have trouble sleeping when I’m away from the confines of my own bed and usually can’t fall asleep until the time between times, when the world awaits the renewing light of day and dreams finally come, dreams which can foretell the future. This is what the wise men of other ages believed and taught. And with the dream I had on one of those nights in Denver, I am not persuaded that they were wrong.

I was standing on the outskirts of a great battle. A Viking army in purple and gold had succeeded in driving through the enemy the first time, but the second charge had bogged down. There were simply too many against them. Even when a man killed with every stroke, as the Viking army did, two more barbarians leapt up to drag him from his horse before the blade was clear of the dead weight.

In the middle of the fray a barbaric battle lord, a fair-haired giant, rose up before the Viking war lord with an enormous hammer in his hand. Slavering with rage, he bellowed his challenge to the Viking leader and planted his feet, swinging that hammer, thick-sinewed shoulders and arms bulging with the effort. He stood like an oak tree as the Viking war lord urged his horse toward him. Sunlight glinted in the barbarian’s yellow hair, his blue eyes clear and unafraid, taunting the Viking, the hammer in his hands dripping blood and brains from the skulls he had smashed.

The one in purple spun toward him and waited until the barbarian swung the hammer up for the killing blow. The Viking lifted his sword and his first stroke ripped low across the brute’s unprotected stomach.

A lesser man would have fallen, but the golden giant stood his ground and swung the hammer down with such force that his wound burst. Blood and entrails gushed forth, and the Viking leader laughed to see it.

The hammer swung wide, and as the barbarian’s hands came down to grab his belly, the one in purple plunged the point of his sword through the giant’s throat. Dark blood spewed out over the Viking war lord’s hand.

The enemy giant stood a moment, his eyes rolling up in their sockets, then collapsed. The sword was jerked free by the Viking and he stood laughing, laughing, roaring with the absurdity of it.

When their war chief went down, the barbarians fell into confusion. They had lost their leader, their heart, and their ruthlessness. The slaughter of the barbarians by the Vikings became appalling. Then it was over. My alarm was going off.

I raised my head and looked out the window on the Denver landscape. A storm had passed, and the moon still shone. A vision had been shown to me. I am sure of it.

Beware. The Vikings are coming. And no mercy will be granted.