I'm attending a New Age seminar in what looks like an old Salvation Army building. I'm a Christian representative at this meeting. I was there because this organization was going to come to give a presentation to a class in support of New Age, and both they and I wanted to be sure the presentation wouldn't be too much for the students at Redeemer. No one would stand near me and some were giving me dirty looks. There was a light around me and the others didn't like that light. When the speakers were done, I went up to talk to them about what to tone down.

Everything fades out then fades into the school, when the presenters are setting up in my philosophy of history room. Students were filling the classroom, wanting to see what this was all about. The presenters began speaking, but not even 10 minutes into the presentation people began speaking out, denouncing them, walking out, throwing things at them...everyone was taking an elitist attitude and not wanting to associate with the speakers because they were pagans. I got furious and went to the front of the room. Taking the mic from the speaker, I began rebuking the students. "Where is Christian tolerance? Where is the love of Christ in your actions? Jesus Himself ate with the worst of sinners, and loved them, so why won't you? Tolerance is about listening to people and accepting them while still believing their opinions and views are wrong! Who are you Pharisees to judge?"

Everyone got mad and left, but as the last people were leaving, a man popped his head through the door and told me to hurry or else I'd be late. Bewildered, I asked him what I'd be late for, but he wouldn't answer, and instead told me to hurry up and get everything ready, then meet him in the back parking lot.

Still confused, I wandered to the downstairs bathroom outside the cafe and went pee. When I went to wash my hands, a plastic disposable toothbrush was there. Shrugging, I put it in my pocket, assuming I'd need it since I didn't have time to pack anything else. Leaving the bathroom, I went into the cafe to see if there was anything else I could grab that I might be able to use, and also to say goodbye to people. It was communal, so everyone was there but no one would talk to me because I associated with teh pagans. Frustrated and out of time, I ran to the back door and found a military jeep waiting for me. I jumped in while a few others were still loading luggage and I thought, 'What idiots! They don't be able to use that stuff where we're going and what we'll be doing.'

The scene fades out then fades into an area at Borden. We're all in combats, all 5 or 6 of us, and undergoing navy seal training to see who would be chosen for a Special Opps unit. I still had my toothbrush, and in my buttpack on my webbing all that was in it was my Bible and devo book, wrapped in plastic so it wouldn't get wet. We had all been conscripted because of the war, but I was the only one of 2 (the other person was the guy who originally came to get me) who had any previous military experience. Some of the others were whining because they wanted frivolous luxuries to take with them, like pj's, but the sergeant major was yelling that they were now navy seals now. I thought, 'If this is navy seal training, my cadet training was cruel and unusual punishment!'

We were allowed to take whatever we wanted with us so long as we could carry it. I had my webbing with a canteen and buttpack only, while everyone else had full webbing plus a full rucksack, along with all of their pockets full. We went over a hill and through a light thicket before emerging on the banks of a glacier river. It was absolutely freezing water, and we were told we would have to swim and make it across to the other side, alive. The river looked like an ocean in width; you couldn't see the other side and the water was horribly rough, like it was in the midst of a storm or gall. The waves were huge and crashed with terrifying power. Everyone was whining again, some complaining how cold it was, others that their stuff would get wet. Fed up, the SM angrily pushed one of the whiners in. We were supposed to ear PFDs to help us get across, but the guy who was pushed in didn't have one on. Myself and the other guy with military training immediately ran and jumped in without PFDs and swam out to the guy to help him.  

Eventually, we make it to the other side, which is a pier and dock, with a broken down boat on one side and a garbage pile protruding from the water on the other side of the dock. We could only stay on the garbage heap, while the SM and 2IC rested on the seats of the boat. He told us to make ourselves comfortable, we would spend the night here then return to the other side in the morning. While people were either complaining or changing into wet pjs, I transferred my Bible and devo book from my buttpack to my pocket, not want the webbing to weigh me down.

3 easels were in the dump pile, so myself and 2 others stood them up and began to paint. The SM walked by and commented on mine that it was a shame, because Prof. P would have really liked that piece. I began to feel sad because Prof. P was dead, and I took the painting and looked into the river, wishing I could bring it with me. 'That's silly, I can't take it in the water, it'll get wrecked.' I let go of the picture, but the wind took it before it hit the water, and carried it away. Looking up, I saw a helicopter overhead that was coming to land on the edge of the pier. The others were happy, thinking the copter had come to take them back across so they wouldn't have to swim, but I was suspicious and uneasy; something wasn't right and I said so to the other military-trained guy. He asked me what I meant but seemed to agree with me and know what I was talking about. A man jumped out of the pilot's sear and began briskly walking away, so I called out to him to wait. The man, who liked very mob-like, paused, as though surprised I noticed him, then said something in a foreign language that had an Australian-like accent. Someone remarked thta it was cool tha the pilot was Australian. "He's not Australian," I replied and began walking backwards, away from the man who was now walking towards us. "Australians are friendlier."  Glancing into the copter cockpit, I noticed blood and bits of tissue splattered all over the machine, with a dead body inside.

"Run!" I screamed, turning away and running towards the water. Just as I was about to jump in, a giant explosion erupted, sending me flying into the river along with everyone else; the man had thrown a grenade at the garage heap. Surfacing, the turbulent waters seemed to calm slowly as I began to swim towards the other side. I began to quickly feel exhausted and frozen to the bone, when I noticed my Bible and devo book a distance to my right. Thinking they somehow fell out of my pocket when I was thrown by the explosion, I swam over to them, thinking both, how weird it was that they were floating like driftwood rather than sinking, and that I had to get them out of the water before they got wrecked. Putting them under my arm, I headed again towards the shore, not noticing that the coldness seemed to be dulling or how the books seemed to act as floatation devices, helping me stay above water.

Finally making it to the shore, I crawled onto the land, where the SM and the other military guy were waiting for me. "Good, you pass. Lets move on to your next set of training" the SM said as the other guy helped me up. My Bible was dry and in a new-like condition as I slipped it into my pant pocket and followed them.  

I’m in an old, English-style mansion in an alternate-reality called Narnia. Everything was the same as it is in our reality, only evil takes on shapes and is known and can be seen by everyone. Evil was spreading throughout this reality and myself and some others had to stop it. If it completely consumed this reality and the people in it, the evil would begin spilling over into our reality.

I was running through a hallway. The mansion was our “base” and the evil had penetrated it. As I ran into the ballroom, two people were in there. There was a male, standing over this reality’s version of my sister; he had just poisoned her with evil and it was beginning to spread in her and change her. I had a book under one of my arms, and when I ran over to push him away from her, the book fell open; it was the Bible and it fell open to Isaiah 40 and the pages turned black. I was now standing in between my sister and this man. Two males about my age ran into the doorway of the ballroom then stopped. They yelled at me to get out, that it was too late because she was already poisoned. Tears came to my eyes and I yelled back that this was the reason we were loosing. Taking a quick glance at my Bible and noticing the black pages, I knelt in front of my sister and whispered, “We have to stop running; we now have to fight back.”

The man ran at me and tried to strike me, but I grabbed my sister’s forehead, and the man’s arm as he was about to hit me. I then closed my eyes and yelled, “In Jesus’ name I command you to leave.” The man and my sister started yelling and thrashing, but I somehow managed to keep a grip on both of them as I repeated it again. It seemed like the entire room started to shake as they both pulled harder and harder to get out of my grasp. Doubts started to creep into my head about whether this would do anything, that what I was doing wouldn’t make a difference, that God doesn’t work this way. Just as my grip was about to loosen, a small voice in the back of my head told me to have faith and not give up, so I yelled one more time, “In Jesus’ name you must leave!”

Suddenly, everything shook like there was a giant earthquake. The darkness in the room started to dissipate, and the darkness my sister’s skin started to drain away, starting from her face and head, and moving downward. The man shrieked and disappeared and as I looked over, the darkness in my Bible pages started to drain away as well. Exhausted, I collapsed into sister.

When I awoke next, I was in an apartment back in my own reality. My parents were there, and demanding to know why I wasn’t ready to go, since I was going home this weekend for Easter. As I slowly got up, I realized that it was now Friday, and had been almost a full week since I’d been fighting in Narnia. I couldn’t go home, I was supposed to go back and finish fighting in Narnia this weekend. It would finish everything off. But, my parents were here and thought I was supposed to go home. How could I tell them I couldn’t go home because I had to fight evil in an alternate reality I got to through my full-length bedroom mirror? They’d think I was insane!

Even though I strongly wanted to stay, I decided to go home, but when I told them I’d be ready to go in a minute, there was a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’d just made the most horrible, irreversible decision. I threw some clothes into a bag and ran out to the car. All the way home, I had this dream that mom and I were in this landscape of some type. Our souls were in the shape of animals, and represented who we were. We were transparent, like ghosts, because this was a place our real bodies couldn’t reach. We both watched as a bunny, which represented at first my mother’s soul, was trying to nurture my soul out of the bunny hole. When it wouldn’t come, the mother bunny went away to try and find another way to get me out. When she left, my bunny decided to take a peak outside and see what it was like on its own. Suddenly, a snake appeared and started to chase me, to try and eat me. The mother rabbit saw this and called it over to what was supposed to be an escape route, but my bunny knew it to be a trap. Because its mother was over there though, it tried to go to get the mother away from the area. Before it could get its mother away, a metal cage blocked both rabbits into a muddy corner. The snake kept attacking the cage, trying to get in, and even though the cage protected the rabbits for a while from the snake, it also trapped them from going anywhere else. Eventually, the cage began to give way. One more blow from the snake and it would break. Just as the snake struck, my bunny jumped in front of the mother, trying to shield it so it could get away.

I awoke just as the snake bit me, only to find that I was at Redeemer. My family on my mom’s side was there and when I asked why, they said it was because it was my Farwell Party. I had cancer and was dying, but instead of dying slowly with the cancer, they wanted me to take a poison that would make me fall asleep but never wake up. The poison was mixed in with some taco meat, since taking it with food helped to make sure it wouldn’t be painful.

I knew I was dying, but I was suddenly terrified to eat the poisoned taco meat. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. But, papa and Andrew saw my apprehension, so they both ate the taco meat, saying that if I was afraid to die alone they would die with me. I was torn; how could I not eat the meat after papa and Andrew had just condemned themselves to death for me? On the other hand, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. If I ate the meat, I was doing something forbidden, knowing going against God’s will. Finally, because I couldn’t stand the guilt over papa and Andrew eating the meat for me, I ate it as well. A few minutes later, they both closed their eyes and went to sleep forever. But, for some reason, I didn’t. Instead, the poison began to slowly shut down my internal organs, one by one, and causing horrible pain. I was absolutely terrified, not because I was going to die necessarily, but because of how I chose to die. I was going to die alone, away from God’s presence. I had committed the unforgivable sin and it felt like my soul was dying along with my organs.

I think that was what was so painful and terrifying, was knowing that my soul was dying along with my body, and that in the end, I had listened to the world instead of listening to God. I held my parents and family above my God.

Everyone else was happy though, because they couldn’t see how much pain I was in, believing that I had been granted more time then they thought to say farewell. We went to the mall (which was the Owen Sound mall for some reason, and Balk Barn was still there combined with the dollar department store) to pick up some more party stuff, despite me telling them I wouldn’t last long enough to enjoy it. Michelle and Shane met us at the entrance to the store, and Shane called some people and began running up and down the isles, yelling to the people who came (his friends) that they had to get me comic action figures to replace my anime figures. They had to get them so I could see them before I died.

While I was in the store, I could feel the poison finally reaching my heart and slowing it little by little. I started to cry and tried to tell dad, but he told me to just hang on until we got back to the party to die. Things started to get dark as my heart slowed more and more, and I became lightheaded. I kept crying, because I knew I was going to die apart from God, and that was the greatest pain of all. Dad called my name to tell me everyone was leaving, but as I turned, my heart finally slowed too much for me to stand. The pain and fear was unbearable. I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open anymore despite my dad calling to me. While I could still think, I thought that maybe God would perform a miracle and allow me to live, maybe God would come back to me in the end. My last thoughts were, ‘God, remember Your child.’

As everything went silent, a woman’s voice began speaking softly to me. The words were gibberish, but I could understand them as though they were English. I couldn’t think, I could only hear. I was in a black void of nothingness, where my self didn’t exist anymore, and even my consciousness was fading away. Just as it was about to go out permanently, the voice said something in an androgynous voice and warmth started to come towards me. Then I woke up.  

I was with someone in a store, and had to use the bathroom. The clerk, who was also the owner, was extremely rude, almost condescending, as he gave me a bucket. I asked him if he didn’t have a bathroom, with a toilet, and he just sneered at me saying I need to remember my place, that people like me shouldn’t even be talking to him. This treatment of myself and people like me had gone on for a few years now, and this time I snapped. I stormed over to where there was a lineup of people waiting for the bathroom just as someone came out. I cut in front of the person who was about to go in and tore the toilet from the ground. Those people were like the clerk, with the same attitudes towards us. The girl with me, a friend, just stood and watched silently and fearfully as I came out with the toilet and slammed it beside the clerk, saying how I would like to see how they feel peeing in public, like a dog. There were angry shouts and threats from the other people, as I took my friend’s hand and stormed out.

The next thing I knew, we were surrounded by secrete police, and both my friend and I were brutally arrested. She was terrified and didn’t say a word. I was angry, but also scared; we knew where we were going. Loaded into cattle-like cars, we quickly arrived at Base Borden, at a concentration camp for Christians. I was labeled a radicalist, and separated from my friend, who was taken to interrogation, then sent off to a lesser-level camp. They thought she would crack easily. I was brought before a man in a dark blue uniform. The guards holding me kicked my knees, making me fall to them before this person while still holding my arms. The man looked at me coldly and asked, almost in an unconcerned voice, if I was willing to reject and recant. I looked back at him and asked, “What do you think?”

The man looked annoyed, almost angry, and he struck me while cursing and promising, “You will be begging for death when we are done with you.”

I was then dragged off to a torture room, where they spent hours a day subjecting me to different tortures. Never the type that could be fatal, but utilizing every torture know to history and ones not yet seen to history. Each time, every day, they would continue to demand if I rejected and recanted yet. I would either start to pray or make a statement of faith, which would result in a beating to unconsciousness, and the end of the session for the day. When we weren’t being beaten and tortured, we tried to reassure each other, and give each other strength in faith. Many people broke and recanted, rejecting their faith in public declarations to the camp before they could leave. They were branded with a sign on their clothes, until they could prove they truly had rejected everything that had caused them to be there.

Shortly after I had arrived, they made the camps public and started actively removing Christians from the public. It was almost exactly like a repeat of the Holocaust, only more modern, and with the entire world helping. This was the biggest camp, the worst of the faithful. Other camps were also horrible, but this was to be the worst. The other camps had much, much higher recanting rates, ours had the lowest rate and the highest death rate. This was the camps for the “worst” of the faithful, were the other camps sent the ones they could not break. The thing was though, we could not be killed in mass gas chambers or through torture. Most times, death came through being shot or beaten, rarely suicide. We could be beaten to death, but not tortured to death; very unusual but strictly enforced.

Only certain people, true saints, were singled-out for intentional expermination, and then in usually a quick but gruesome death. They were the ones who encouraged the others the most, the true saints were the real light and love of God seemed to continuously stream from. They had a light that could not be put out, no matter what. The ones who could not be tortured, could not be touched but by this navy-blue uniformed guy. Though all of us there were strong in our beliefs and faith, they were the ones who were true disciples.

I met many people like myself there, 3 women in particular stood out. One was my age, one was a decade older, and the other was almost elderly, close to her 60s. A fourth woman we all knew, and she was in her late 70s, early 80s. This woman was referred to as “grandma” by the guards, and they had a soft stop for her. Everyday, a vehicle would drop her off at a building she spent the day volunteering at. The guards were always gentle and spoke softly to her, helping her gently out of the vehicle and back in. On more than one occasion, one or two of the guards said they could almost see the love of God in her. One day, we watched as she was ordered into The Room. The guards were all really distressed by it, since they all really liked her. She wore a white, nightgown-like dress as the guards gently helped her down from the vehicle. Almost all of the guards and most of the camp prisoners were there, including me. Many of the guards had tears in their eyes, as two helped her make her way to the building. The atmosphere was completely silent, as if heaven itself was standing still to watch its last saint die. Some of us were crying, myself with tears also. But she looked at all of us and smiled, saying not to cry for she was going home. At that, many guards started to cry, and it seemed like the light of God were, literally, radiating from her. The two escorting guards could no longer hold on to her because of the light, but she just kept walking towards The Room, a smile of peace on her face. I started singing with some others with me. Within seconds, all the prisoners there was singing a hymn of prayer and praise, as this saint drew closer to the building. It seemed like as she got closer, the singing grew louder, as though more people were joining in the singing until the sound was almost deafening. The light also grew brighter and brighter until the building and the woman could not be seen through it. When she entered the building, a building flash of light enveloped everything.

When the light faded, we were no longer in a concentration camp, but walking along a beautiful path, in what looked like a ritzy sub-division landscape. There were no houses, but there were buildings a bit away. Everything was so clean, and hundreds of people were there. We entered a church, seemed to be Anglican-like. We were the survivors of the camp, which had been overthrown and destroyed. We found people we remembered and whom we had our only fellowship with. I found my 3 woman, and we cried as we embraced. It was overwhelming to see people whom you were afraid had died. As I was taking my seat in a pew, a man went up to the pastor with a piece of paper and asked about a hymn. The minister, almost annoyed, said there were already too many hymns do and snapped at the man to sit down. Somewhat surprised, the man sat back down with his wife, and said to her a bit shocked “I just asked him to play a short hymn.”

The minister didn’t look like he wanted to be there. It looked almost like he was forced to be there, and was serving out a punishment. None of us cared though, we were there for one reason and that was to praise God that we survived, remember those who did not, and just praise God in general. The minister was there more-so as a figure, not really serving a purpose other than to guide the service from one stage to another. He was not going to be guiding or preaching, since we did that for ourselves and each other. As the organ began, we remained seated, but every time the minister got too close to the pulpit or the crowd, we would stand and the singing seemed to get louder. The minister would scowl and step back a bit, and we would sit back down. This happened twice, before he just stood in one stop, scowling as we sang. There was a feeling of such peace and joy, and as the singing ended and the minister was about to start the next part, I noticed the friend who was with me in the beginning sitting behind me. When we saw each other, we got up and hugged each other tightly, in tears. We told each other how happy we were to see each other. The dream faded out as we were sitting back down.