http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/7/116825/1.ashx
CHILD OF THE MIGHTY TOWER
I’m unaware of my legs and my arms are as clusters of suspension wires steadying the Golden Gate. As my mind screams in fear, begging me to escape even with only half a life, I feel the lone drop of sweat cascade under my shirt down my side to my belt. Another, then another, wet, hot sweat, running, pouring, pooling at my belt. The odor of damp leather seeps through my nostrils as only my eyes manage to dart through the black, stagnant air.
When the doctor grasped my bloody head and heaved me from my mother’s belly I cried out as a child of the mighty Tower. Sacrificed unto the mysticism of the Truth, carrying the whole armor of God, I took the battle to the dark side of all that is and all that ever was.
Even though, silent and not seen, I sense each and every… three? No, two at the back. Five! Yes Five! Two at my back! I cannot breath. God give me air to speak, at the very least Your name! They come closer and closer in this musty, dark, old house. Why is my Grandfather’s house filled with these retched, evil fornicators of Beelzebub? And why me, now, here?! Where is my Sword Of The Spirit?! Where is my Shield Of Faith?! Though, even if at my very feet, not a single hair of my body can I sway. My heart will sooner leap from my chest, than my arms reach even to awake myself.
I have protection! I cannot die as this! Protection my God!
“Ja!”
Years long, my training has been. When I wake, when I eat, when I sleep. I am a trained soldier of the Almighty, yet I cannot even move a finger. Shout for help! Yes! Shout! Help!
“Jah!”
Why do they always come like this? A thief in my night! I will certainly die of fear before they even lay a single sickle to my throat. Though, I know it is not my head they wish, but my very soul. For, to them, my soul is worth more than seventy-seven virgins. For I am a child of the mighty Tower.
“Jah!”
A believer of the Truth for which I will gladly die! I am as the deadliest of poisons to Mephistopheles and his debauched, acerbic Demons, which now control the very air I breathe.
“Jah!”
If only His name I could proclaim. The sweat, dripping, pouring - my body so sodden. My brackish lips quiver. Begging to part and scream…
“!JEHOVAH!”
Springing at the hips I soar forward. My eyes, frantically, shoot through the darkness. Breath! Breath! My ears reach out to catch any sound. Only the pounding of my heart reverberates in the room as my eyes flit. I don’t feel! They’re gone?
“Oh my god.”
I collapse to my bed as the sheet caresses my face, sopping the sweat. It’s over. Everything sticks to me as my heart lightens its pace. Thank god it’s over.
Why do they keep coming? I must, surely, be a wicked man. If only they would stop.
This is my reoccurring dream. I’ve had it for decades beginning in my late teens. I am forty-two years old and I have just learned that my step-sister also has experienced this exact same dream. Again and again.
Is this your dream, too?
Bryan
Have You Seen My Mother