A Dream of Death
I awoke suddenly, and poised above me, ready to strike, my wife came down hard, swiftly with a slice, a blow of intended death. I jerked, with all alarm and startled urgency, as to avoid the earnest attempt upon my life. The weight of my body hit the floor. I awakened from slumber to conscious thought. Suddenly, and again poised above me, with all intensity of hatred, she, with hand grasping tightly, charged down upon my being, as I, with all possible strength summoned, threw myself onto the floor. I awakened to discover that I had only been dreaming. As I looked up, contemplating the dream, I looked into the enraged face of my wife, with her hands clasped upon the dagger piercing the space above me, directly down upon my heart. Greatly astonished, I instinctively jerked with all my strength and plunged to the floor. Once more, the thuddish hit of my flesh and bones upon the floor awakened me. I was lying, though, face up on the bed, my wife beside me sound asleep. I seemed as one almost dead. I reached my sluggish arm, weighted with fatigue, to the lamp stand beside me and lifted my watch. I placed my forefingers upon my wrist and counted. My pulse was fifty beats per minute. I pondered what it must have been while I was yet asleep. It was four p.m. in the July afternoon of 1970, Tempe, Arizona. As I type this event for the first time, thirty-eight years later, almost to the day, I cannot help but think the dream, or more appropriately, nightmare of the afternoon, to have been a premonition.

I am twenty-three years into my third marriage and we war daily and always have. My first wife nearly drove me to suicide. I stole quietly down to Tempe Park with a bottle of Bufferin early in the morning. It was summer and the un-risen sun was just beginning to soften the darkness. I began taking the pills. I was still an intensely emotional person at the age of twenty-five. After swallowing half the bottle of pills, a voice spoke from within. Your are not taking your life, you are only holding the knife for others. Die today and there will be no tomorrow, no returning. Tomorrow can’t be worse than today. Spare your life. It will be better. I returned to my apartment and into the bed next to my unsuspecting wife . I told no one of the event until years later.

Satan hath surely desired to sift me as wheat, but my Master hath prayed for me that my faith fail not.

My second wife threatened my life with a hammer raised and ready to strike my head. I said. "If that is what you must do, go ahead." As the scripture says, resist not evil. She lowered the hammer and I lived to write about it.

When I came home from Viet Nam, I flew to Okinawa, then to Fort Lewis, and after a layover, on to Los Angeles, another layover and then to Phoenix. I took a taxi from Sky Harbor airport to my one room apartment in Tempe. No one was home. I then walked over two miles to my wife’s parents’ house on Balboa, off of Mill Avenue, and found my wife there. I went in and laid down in the bedroom that was hers before we were married. It was then that I feel asleep from exhaustion and had, perhaps, the strangest dream of my life.

Of course there was that dream Sister Culton had about me that was certainly as unique. I went to Tucson to visit Pastor Govan and attend his church back in 1979 or 1980. I attended services both Sunday morning and Sunday night. I preached Sunday night. There was another much older minister who was supposed to preach that night. He showed me his notes after service and I discovered I had preached the exact same message that he was going to preach. Isn't God Good? Monday morning I decided to go rock collecting at the Old Yuma mine in the Tucson Mountains west off of Ina road. I took the old road that goes through the Saguaro National Monument. Just after crossing the first mountain pass I turned off the highway south and began up the dirt road that would lead to the mine. I encountered a roadblock with a sign on it saying "no trespassing." I stopped, backed up and turned on a side road back eastward toward the mine. The road was very high and narrow and came to an impassible wash. I stopped, got my gear, and proceeded on foot around and up the side of mountain eventually coming to the large cavern that led into the mine. It was almost like an amphitheater because it had caved in and created this large hemispherical entrance. I entered, crawled and slid down the east side, climbed over large boulders from the cave-in, and eventually stood upright at the mouth of what was one of the tunnels about fifty feet down from the surface. It was well shadowed and I turned on my headlight, got out my rock hammer and chisel and began the task of opening up pockets of Vanadanite and Wolfanite. Both a beautiful rare minerals, sought after by many rock hounds and mineralogist.

The yellow orange wolfenite and the red vanadite crystals are too soft to use as gem stones, but their brilliant adamantine luster combined with their striking crystal formations make them seem like gems of the first order. They are translucent and very heavy, especially the wulfinite because of its lead, molybdomine oxide composition. Several years earlier I found some gorgeously large wulfinite crystals that measured more than an inch on the side. Large pieces of solid wulfinite about three inches in diameter and an inch thick. I began locating some nice sized vanadanite crystals that were in a narrow crevice that reached back about ten feet from where I was. I worked for several hours and finally came out with a handful of rather large loose crystals and some other chips of rock with crystals on them. I worked my way down the side of the mountain, lugging all my gear and several pounds of specimens.

I finally reached my truck. When I was ready to leave, I realized that I had boxed myself in. It was too far to try and back out and the road was only as wide as the width of my little blue Toyota truck. I began to go forwards and backwards turning slightly more around each time until I was about half-way turned around. The road sloped steeply down on both sides and I pulled forward and downward for the last time. I Knew I had gone too far as soon as I did it. I put it in reverse, but it was no use. I had no traction and there I was hanging over the side of the road. I tried several things get back up onto the road but without success. It was no use. I finally began walking down the road back to where it intersected the other road, and thenc up to the "no trespassing sign. I sat there completely humiliated before the Lord. My face was red with embarrassment just as if you were their mocking me for my absolute stupidity. I finally spoke and asked the Lord to forgive me. I made a vow that I would never go rock collecting again, especially down in some mine.

As much as I did not want to go up the road, past the "no trespassing" sign, it seemed like my only hope. The road ascended up around a hill and eventually leveled out at the top where there was one of those white geometric houses that looks like a large angular igloo. I raised my hands in the air as a sign of surrender and slowly approached the door thirty feet in front of me. Suddenly a large German Police dog bounded out fro m behind the house and began a mad dash straight toward me barking and growling all the way. I stopped, with my hands still raised above my head and prayed silently, Oh God! Just as the dog was about to make his final lunge at me it abruptly stopped, sniffed at my waist and walked away. Thank you Jesus! I walked on up to the door and knocked. After a while, a woman in her thirties appeared and cracked the door open about a foot and asked me what I wanted. I explained that my truck was stuck back down the road a ways and I wanted to know if she would let me use her phone. She then told me that her daughter was very sick and that the she did not want me to come in. I asked again for her help and she finally said that she would bring the phone to the door and I could call from outside. I called pastor Govan, but only his wife was home. He was at work and wouldn’t be home for several hours. I told sister Govan my predicament and that If I couldn’t get out I would probably contact them again. At this point, the woman standing in front of me suggested that I walk back down the way I came and that about a half mile past the mine was a Catholic retreat just on the other side of the mountain.I had actually passed the place on my way when I was still on the paved road, right before entering the Saguaro National Park.

I decided to take her advice and began the hike back down the road, past my truck, past the mine and down through some pretty rough terrain full of prickly bushes and cacti until at last I came through a mountain pass into the back area of the Catholic retreat. I passed by some workers. I made it to the entrance of the retreat and went in. I went up to a lady and asked for help. She told me I would have to wait. She said I could use the phone. I called the gas station that was back down on the corner of Ina and the freeway. They said it would cost a minimum of $20.00 plus so much per mile. I only had seventeen dollars. I went back and asked the receptionist if there wasn't someone who could help me? She told me to wait and I could talk to one of the priests. He came out after a while and said he couldn't help but maybe one of the construction guys could give me a hand. I went outside to ask for help but they had all finished work while I was inside and had just left for the day. My heart began to sink. Lord please help. I went back inside and there was one guy left. He was on the phone. He talked and talked and finally hung up. He didn't notice me tagging along behind him. I kept saying sir, sir. Finally he noticed me, he was a pretty good sized guy, and tall. I explained my situation to him. He finally agreed to try and help me. He got all his stuff loaded up in his pickup truck, and we got inside. I went to roll down the window just as he tried to tell me, "don't do that!" It was too late. The window dropped down into the door. Then I really felt like a fool. I showed him how to get up to my truck and we surveyed the situation. He had some rope that he tied to the back of my truck. That was harder than it might seem because my little light blue Toyota pickup truck did not have a bumper. I got in my truck and he pulled me up enough for me to get traction and I was able to back all the way out with his direction. I thanked him so much, and offered him some of the best mineral specimens that I had found that day. He said, "What would I do with them?" I even felt dumber. I was not having a good day. I drove all the way back to Yuma, about two hundred and forty miles.

It was Monday night very late when I got back. Tuesday night was Bible study and I went in and sat on the front pew next to the piano, in case I might have to play. Sister Culton was sitting in the pew behind me when I came in. When I sat down she said, "Is that you Brother Charles?" I said praise the Lord. She said, "You got in trouble when you were over in Tucson, didn't You?" I said yes, how did you know. She said, "I had a dream and I saw you driving on the side of a mountain. You were driving this cute little light blue truck. Then I saw your truck about ready to fall over the side of the mountain. Then I saw you talking on the phone with some man to come and tow your truck, but you didn't have enough money. She even told me how much it was going to cost. She explained several more details. I was truly impressed. You see, sister Culton had been blind for the past seven years. She had never seen me, nor my truck. I never told her what color it was. She knew me quite well, though, because I had helped take care of her for about a year when I first came in the church about two years earlier. She had the dream the day before it happened to me. When was the last time something like that happened to you?

It was significant because I made a vow to the Lord that I would not go rock collecting again. I have taken my step children out to old mine dumps and picked up some rocks and I have contemplated going down in some mines, but I know that if I do, I will be in trouble with God. Don't make a vow to God and then go back on it unless God says so.

We might as well make a whole listing of my dreams. Some people have all kind of dreams from the Lord. Not me. My wife is always having dreams, and when she tells them I can tell pretty quickly that they are from the Lord. Many times God is warning her. My dreams are split about fifty, fifty. Some are warnings and some are blessings. I mentioned a dream in The Making of a Prophet, where I was preaching in the front of a temple with pillars, someone standing behind me and to the right, a green field in front of me surrounded with a western style wood fence. I was teaching out of a Bible on a podium in front of me. Occasionally the person behind me would tell me something specific to say. There was one person in the field, then later there were two, then three, then people on the fence, some crying, then they were in the field. The dream continued like this for quite some time.

I thought at the time that it meant I would pastor a church with a lot of men in it. I had this dream in the summer of 1997. In the summer of 1999, while returning to San Marcos, CA, to teach for another year at Palomar College, I saw this giant rainbow that had a flock of white birds fly up into it. As I mentioned before, in the fall of 2002, while on a thirty day fast, I was praying with my head to the ground out at Site Maverick, when it was revealed to me, that the flock of white birds, which turned out to be huge white cranes, were preachers. The greek styled temple was actually the Temple of God. The Pillars were the seven pillars mentioned in Provers 9:1. I was preaching to a flock of preachers. I was one of the Seven Thunders, and Jesus was standing behind me and to the right, in the background as it were, telling me certain specific things to teach at various times. He would let me teach what was on my mind, but would give me more details, or guide me in a certain direction from time to time. So this dream I had back in 1997, was very interesting indeed, because of the slow drawn out revelation of what it meant over several years. And it appears it may be many more years before it is fulfilled, and it might not be me who is actually doing the teaching but I am just symbolic of something that will come to pass. Remember, it was reveal to me in November of 1995, about the seven angels of the seven churches. I made no connection whatsoever with those seven angels to my dream in 1997. It may have been in the fall of 2001, or 2002, that I made the connection between the seven pillars of Proverbs 9:1, and the seven end-time prophets. Tears came to my eyes when the entire dream was revealed to me while praying on the back side of Fort Huachuca. It seemed incredible that God would intrust me with such a task. I really felt blesses. Nothing has seemed to go in the direction of the dream until now. The posting of this information on the internet seems to be the will of God. I lost ten private music students at the end of May, and several more have gone on vacation, and even though I'm not making much money I feel compelled to type up this information rather than paint a picture, or drum up some business.

I hope someone is taking what I have to say to heart, because if they don't, and God doesn't raise up some prophets with apostolic power, and things continue on as they have for the past fifty years, there are going to be a lot of very disappointed people when the church is caught away.

Deacon Roger Nevels in Yuma, AZ, was sick unto death. I had gone to the hospital and prayed on my knees next to his bed. I prayed that God would raise him up. He had a rare blood disorder. One of his sisters had passed out and died from it while doing the laundry. She was only 28 years old. Roger was in his late forties. The next day the Nevels family went to the hospital to pray for him and the doctors had given up on him. His sister, Helen Morrison, came by my apartment after they had been to the hospital. She was crying. She asked me to pray for Roger, that he was going to die. Just before she came, it was late, I was having a dream. From the dream I could deduce that Roger was going to live. Not being so close to him as his immediate family, I was able to have more faith that God would answer my prayer and raise him up. The next day he did. He may have even done it from the dead, because I knew that even if Roger died, God would answer my prayer. Roger not only came home from the hospital, but he lived to be sixty-nine years old and had three more children in his old age. Isn't God good?

I had some bizarre dreams about the weather back around 1992. They were real bad lightning storms and hail storms. The storms reached a really scary level of violence, and then a voice said it wouldn't get worse than that before the rapture of the church. The hail stones where really big. I remember right after that, hearing about a horrific hailstorm that happened at five in the morning in a small town in Nebraska. The hail was the size of softballs. That is huge. The hail destroyed the cars in the cities car dealerships. It smashed all the windows. It destroyed the roofs of hundreds of houses, and it destroyed the trees. The man who was interviewed had gotten up early that morning and had just sat down to a cup of coffee when all hell broke lose. He was scared to death. He said there was no warning whatsoever. It just hit like a tone of bricks out of nowhere. He jumped under the table. He could not believe the noise and was scared to death.

Actually, the first dream that I had that I can remember that had something to do with God was back in Phoenix, Arizona, in the summer of 1960. I was a real pyromaniac when I was a kid. I was always playing with matches and starting fires. Satan was definitely trying to get rid of me. Well, I started having these dreams in the summer of 1960, and there was always this tornado of fire that was chasing me. It was a real nightmare. I would wake up in a sweat, and very scared. These dreams went on for several weeks until I had one in which I was being chased eastward across the United States by this huge tornado of fire. I thought if I could just get on the other side of the Mississippi river, everything would be alright. So in my dream I was suddenly on the other side of the Mississippi. I thought I was safe. But, when the tornado approached, it had grown so big, and it was so hot, that it dried up the Mississippi river and came strait after me. I couldn't believe it and woke up scared to death. I was so upset that I prayed to God to please take away the dream. God answered my prayer and I never had the dream again. He also delivered me from that pyromaniac spirit. It was just a few months after this that my older brother talked me out of believing in God and I became a hard core atheist for many years. Does that make any sense? God just did a great thing in my life and I turn my back on him because of some mumbo jumbo that my brother fed me. Go figure. 7/13/08

When I was fasting back in 1995, I had several dreams, but one I can remember was long and consisted of me being interviewed by the local newspaper. It was a big deal. It has never happened. I have been in the newspaper numerous times, but I was not being interviewed about my religious beliefs.

About the time I left the UPC church, I had a dream in which I attended Sunday morning service, and pastor Lee Wilson was already preaching when I came in. As soon as I sat down his message took a very negative turn. He began preaching against something that I believed in. I don't remember what it was. After the message, I went around shaking everyone's hand, as is my custom, and everyone appeared to be handicapped. I went through the vestibule back to the Sunday School rooms. Same thing, everyone was handicapped, either physically or mentally, all handicapped. I eventually went out the side door, which is the main entrance, and talked with Joe Janowski for a few minutes. He seemed OK. I then swam up a canal that is to the north of the church, toward my trailer about a mile away. I was swimming up stream and I noticed some snakes. I couldn't tell for sure, but they appeared to be poisonous. I thought to myself, "I better be careful." I then reached the halfway point going home and the stream started going down hill, but I was still swimming against the current. Suddenly there were many snakes, so many I thought I would surely be bitten. Then one did bite me and I shook it off. It did not hurt, and it did not affect me. I made it home safely and woke up. I told my wife about it and she said the snakes were the church members gossiping and backbiting about me. She was right. Pastor Lee Wilson was probably the snake that bit me. And obviously the saints were spiritually handicapped. They are not the only ones. Everyone I know, including myself, is spiritually handicapped to some degree or another.

I had a dream in the fall of 2006. I dreamt that I was asked to preach to the Korean Joy Baptist Church. I had attended that church for a year, then went to another church for six months, then came back in June of 2006. This time I played piano for the American services, and sometimes piano or violin for the Korean services. This lasted for a year. So some time in September or October I had a dream where I was preaching to the church. I wanted to preach or teach there but they never asked me. They pretty much knew what I believed because of my Korean wife. She witnessed to them on many occasions. They did not like what she had to say to them, especially about holiness, and being baptized in Jesus' name. In my dream, I was preaching to a full church of American men and their Korean wives. But, no one was paying attention to me. They were either yawning, talking, getting up and walking around, or some such thing. Not one person was listening to what I had to say, and the dream ended that way. My wife had several dreams about that church. They all indicated that the church was spiritually dead from the pastor down. Not one person was right, nor wanted to be right with God. God even showed my wife those who wanted to make sure it stayed that way. What God was showing me was that it was definitely not the time to preach to them about the truth. Maybe in the future, but definitely not at that time. What God showed my wife repeatedly was that the leadership of that church had no intention of getting right with God, and that God wanted my wife out of there before it led to her spiritual destruction. I knew that two year before, but my wife so much wants to see her Korean people get saved. She is very much influenced by her Korean Culture. Her language, her food, her dress, her customs, her people, all Korean, and all so very important to her.

I am not like that at all. This world and its customs are not my home. I'm just a passing through. I'm a stranger and a pilgrim in this world. I've attended, for extended periods(years), and played the piano, and even preached and taught, in all Spanish, Black, Korean, and white churches. When I say all Black, or all Mexican, or all Korean, I literally mean all, except for me. I visited at least eight churches in Yuma, AZ(Black, Mexican & White). I visited about eight churches when I lived in Tempe(Black, Mexican & White). I visited seven churches in California(Black, Mexican & White). I visited two churches in Texas(Black). I visited five churches in Tucson(Black,& White). I visited a couple of churches in North Carolina(Black). I visited about thirty churches in Sierra Vista, and even churches in Bisbee, Douglas, and Tombstone AZ(Black, Mexican, Korean & White). I have discussed, many times in depth, the deep things of God with the pastors of almost all of these churches. It is because of my willingness to spend several hours over several days talking to, let's say Philip McGoldrick of the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Yuma, AZ, that I have become as knowledgeable as I am. I have spent many hours talking to Mormon elders, Jehovah Witnesses, Spanish Apostolics, Black Apostolics, Korean Assembly of God ministers, Black Baptist preachers, Catholics, plus many non Christian religions. I take all of their arguments seriously and have many times gone on extensive fasts to get answers from God. The Bible says, "Prove all things, hold fast to that which is good." God is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him. I have witnessed to thousands of individuals about the plan of salvation according to Acts 2:38, and been rejected by at least 99% of the people that I have talked to. Not very good odds. Everyone wants their cake, and eat it too. They want all of the world they can get, and still go to heaven. It doesn't work that way.

"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God. I know I am. But what are you? When I first came to God I once saved always saved. Call on the name of Jesus and you are saved. NO works, only faith. I was God's property and that was all there was to it. Go ahead Eve, eat the fruit. It looks good, tastes good, good for your brain, so it must be good. God is a God of love. Surely you won't die. Just keep listening to the that voice and deny that ACT 2:38, is the plan of salvation. God doesn't need you. He always has someone waiting to take your place. Just ask Ruben, or King Saul, or Esau. The question is not whether God loves you, the question is whether you love God?