The music on this website was chosen
because I dreamed it three times recently.
If that's not prophetic of something, then I
don't know what is!!!!



I received the following e-mail which sent shivers flying up and down my spine
which gives it special meaning. I hope it will do the same for you.


4-11-00 - Dear Dee,


You said you dreamed these three songs three times each. In the order they were played, they are:

1.) Taps

2.) The Battle Hymn of the Republic

3.) Yankee Doodle


Words to Taps:


   Day is done,

Gone the sun,

From the lake, from the hill, from the sky.

All is well -- lay thee rest -- God is nigh!


In the military we heard it every night at 11:00 P.M, but for the rest of us it is mostly heard at military funerals, in the form of a duet for the trumpet. The words speak both to and from the loved ones left behind. They acknowledge that, for the deceased, work is finished and the workday has ended. For the last line, remember that "lay" is the past tense of "lie" as in lie down. The deceased or the fighters, depending on the occasion of the call, now lay in rest as God watches over them.

The Battle Hymn, words by Elizabeth Barrett Browning -- four verses and the chorus -- you probably know them.

1.) Mrs. Browning describes the Second Coming of Messiah, coming in glory, defeating sin and fighting evil.

2.) His allies have gathered in camps, preparing for battle and receiving their combat orders, which Mrs. Browning also sees.

3.) He has sounded forth the trumpet -- the seventh trumpet in the Book of Revelation, calm before the storm -- in ancient times, the Shofar -- also the call to "Charge." He will never give up until the battle is won. Also, he has separated His allies from His enemies in preparation for battle. He encourages His allies to "answer the call" swiftly and joyfully. His allies must be able to cheerfully offer up their lives to win the battle.

4.) He is God, born into a human body. He has all the power and glory of God, yet deliberately sacrificed His human body for our transfiguration (salvation), then went to a section of the "underworld" called Paradise, reserved for those who died previous to His death and saved them posthumously.

Those who wish to go to Heaven must be willing to work to keep others from harm (spiritual, as well as physical). I think Lightworkers would fall under the category of those who will do such work.

With God's Love,



Subj: Patriotic Elijah

Date: 04/13/2000

Dear Dee,

These are spiritual intuitions, not predictions. But if we don't share them as you have, then we may miss pieces of the puzzle.

With reference to the patriotic songs you dreamed about, my understanding from my spiritual experiences is that Washington and Lincoln were incarnations of the prophet Elijah who has incarnated once more in order to initiate the world into the apocalyptic period of accelerated spiritual advancement through the planned Messianic drama.

The songs are suggestive to me of a death (taps) and resurrection scenario, in which the prophet will be accused of being the Antichrist, because of revealing himself as the King of Eros (with the girls be handy like Solomon) after his resurrection, while paradoxically being the forerunner of the Messiah, the King of the Logos. As doubt and paradox is solid spiritual food, it may also be unclear as to whether the prophet is himself the Messiah, as the Battle Hymn suggests. What is important is not the pinned down identity that the fundamentalists will obsess with, but the effect of the prophet's behavior on the global consciousness.

Lastly, in the tradition of "as above, so below," it is my intuition that the Elian Gonzales case is an event concurrent with the possible revealing of the prophet,

"Elijah the alien" or incarnated Elohim. I have dreamed of lights in the skies over Miami similar to the Phoenix UFO lights, for example.

I'm sharing this to suggest keeping our eyes open for such synchronicities as the possibility that the resolution of the Elian case may fall around April 19th, the night Passover (of the Elohim) begins and the anniversary of the Waco and Oklahoma City bombing incidents. Though Koresh was undoubtedly a false prophet, he brought the world's attention to the concept of the seven seals, and now here we are seven years later at the Millennium with another federal case coming to a head with analogies to Waco emerging once more.

Thank you for your wonderful site.

xxx (name held by request)

P.S. Last night I dreamed of a model of the labyrinth of Washington D.C.'s streets tilting on it's edge in order to receive the reincarnation of Washington at the White House. Thus, the prophet will bend the Washington rules on his quest for destined power by transcending all the usual corrupt insider nonsense.


Subj: Smile Date: 04/14/2000

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!"

I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day. One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me.

That did it!! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual? On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling.

"Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much."

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip -- the weather, my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is doing.

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."

To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark. I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, "Mark I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me."

The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps

One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home. Chuck's wife said, 'Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album ."I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would > never see him again.

Written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosla

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.