Post by Paddy by Grace on Mar 28, 2010 15:04:46 GMT -7
standeyo.com/NEWS/10_Prophecy/100326.5.dream.old.men.html
Your OLD MEN Shall Dream Dreams
March 25, 2010
By Bob Neumann
The Prophet Joel wrote for us.... And it shall come to pass afterward, [that] I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: Proverbs 29:18 says Where [there is] no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy [is] he.
That term "vision" is interesting. Dr Strong gives his 3rd "definition" as; c) vision, oracle, prophecy (divine communication)
Too bad the compilers of the KJV and Dr Strong himself did not believe that there was much possibility for "modern" believers to actually have DIVINE COMMUNICATION. Personally I really never noticed when the VISIONS I used to have switched to DREAMS. So that makes me one of the "old men". Not sure how to think about it. What I do know is when THE MOST HOLY SPIRIT chooses to make "A FLOW"....whether it is DREAMS, VISIONS, or even a COMBINATION of both means THAT THE COMFORTER USES to get HIS MESSAGE ACROSS.
All you have to remember is that THE GOD of ABRAHAM, ISAAC, and JACOB changes not. So go back to our old friend JOB.... For God speaketh once, yea twice, [yet man] perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, That he may withdraw man [from his] purpose, and hide pride from man. He keepeth back his soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword.
So in obedience I write this. In totality, there were 5 DREAMS.....but fit together.
The Dreams
#1
In each of them I was with my wife, which was something that has not happened before. Also I was not an "outside observer". I was in my body with all my usual aches and pains. We were standing in a line, a few feet from a door that was wedged open. We were standing in one line with several other lines to either side of "our line". Our line had all the gray haired, those with walkers and wheel chairs. I noticed that there was a lack of "powered" mobility. One line had mothers and small children, all under 9-10 years I would guess. There was a separate line for older children....the cut off age I thought of as 16. Then there were separate lines for males and females, from late teens to early, healthy looking 50's.
So there were five lines. Some moved faster than others. Ours was slow, but eventually we came to one of two desks where my wife and I handed over "our cards". They were laminated with our pictures and a small "GOLD COLORED" square. We both pressed our thumbs to special pads wired to the computer. The person behind "our" computer looked up at us briefly and pushed at some buttons. I heard a strange sound and the person reached under the counter and brought out a small bundle and pushed it into a small machine I had not noticed. It did not staple, but it did make a "small book". The person handed the bundled book to my wife and returned her card. Obviously this was something we had done before. Before I got my book and card back my wife began to complain that we were "being cheated". She said our "usual" allotment/ration/whatever was always (here she said a number of some sorts, but I "missed it".
The person behind the computer said that there had been an across-the-board decrease for all "carders". That jumped out at me. Then the person said that we shouldn't complain because we had "over 23 million units on our cards". THEN MY WIFE GOT MAD AND RAISED HER VOICE. She said, "we had earned OUR money" and I began pulling her away.
My dear gentle wife did not notice the individuals in BLACK UNIFORMS moving towards us. That was when it got real FREAKY. The person behind the computer cursed at us and said "all you carders say that" and laughed. At that point the two BLACK UNIFORMS stopped and joked with each other and I heard them chuckling. What I did not hear was good old "American English" when they spoke.
As I pulled "mommy dearest" out of the building I noticed that all "the carders" behind us looked away from us or just looked down. I realized that very few people had complained as my wife had. But our line was the slowest. Only the (line with) mothers with small children was almost as slow as ours. It was then I noticed no one else used "cards". All the other lines moved quickly because they scanned hands, and handed each person there own "book". Mothers had to line up their children to be scanned, which took time. Small babies were not scanned. Not sure how they worked that out.
Did the "chips" cost more than "cards"? If so, then the why was obvious. Why waste chips on people who they did not expect to be around "TOO LONG"? Why waste chips on young babies if infant mortality was high? Health care may not have improved as promised....
Dreams #2 & #3
Then my wife and I were in a line in a different building. All were waiting, but the movement was pretty good. When we got into the building there were two computers, one with a woman rushing through people as quickly as possible. AS before my dear wife went first and did the thing with her card. She was given a light blue plastic card. The woman said "eight gallons" and my wife took it and gave me "that look". I had missed something. This time she pulled me towards the other computer where no one was sitting. So I stood and waited. Then a middle-aged man in a uniform a lot like our county sheriff's department wears (appeared). He walked to the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. "Sorry", he said as I handed him my card. "Mr. Neumann?", he asked in a normal voice.
I replied, "yes, sir".....
"No need for you to call me sir", he laughed.
"I only make those young guns bow and scrape."
He laughed again and was looking at the computer screen. "What do you go by, Robert or Bob?"
Momma was standing quietly behind me and had a worried look in her eyes. This obviously was a different experience than "we" have had earlier....the man laughed, so keep it light and friendly....
"My Mom called me Bob because she knew I wouldn't be too bright, so she gave me the only name she knew that was simple and the same spelled forwards or backwards."
With that he gave me a big belly laugh and slammed his fist on the counter. Everyone in the office behind the counter suddenly got "silent" and stared with frightened looks at this man in this "different" uniform with strange gold insignias on his shoulderboards.
Again he looked at the computer screen and was obviously reading everything that there was about me. So I kept silent not sure what to expect.
"As you know", he started and realized that there was something he expected me to have knowledge about. So I let him continue...."I am the new commander of this district....".
COMMANDER? DISTRICT?
"...and my predecessor left me with a few nasty messes to clean up."
Then he looked up at me. "In his brief he mentioned you as an asset. Usually I would strongly question such an opinion of someone who had messed up as bad as he did. But the records speak for themselves..."
Once again I had no clue what kind of "asset" he was talking about. Frankly I was afraid of what I had done.
"The record has it", he began quietly, "that you were placed as "permanently disabled" back in 1998."
I simply nodded.
"Compressed and degenerative lower vertebral column. Severe peripheral vascular disease," he stated in a flat voice. "It states 'very limited mobility and endurance' with moderate to severe chronic pain in back and legs." So far he was right on, but it made no sense.
"In the last month four times the previous commander placed his district on F.A.S."
I have no idea what those initials meant. But it had meaning to the office staff..... "and all four times you were available in ten minutes".
Again I was baffled.
"Now on the third F.A.S, we both know was for real. And four different memos were sent to command. It seems no one really knew how to treat chest and belly wounds. All four memos credit you for saving the lives of two of my troopers. Obviously that was not a coincidence."
"Twenty-five years of ER and Surgical ICU in Miami", I replied quietly.
"That also explains your Spanish." Again he chuckled. "I knew you must have been somewhere before M******* Hospital. Miami explains why there is no records..." Here he trailed off into silence looking again at the computer screen....
"Well, Bob..." he began slowly..."I run things differently than you are used to(??)...and you are an asset I want to keep functioning as long as I can."
With that he started tapping keys and nodding his head.
"Tomorrow Bob, you can get gas. When you do, ask for SARGENT SMITH." With that he handed me a stack of "light blue" cards.
My wife came forward with a gasp. "I think your grandbabies in Durham will be happy to see you Mrs. Neumann. Have a nice trip".
On that note he stood up and extended his hand. I gave him a firm manly handshake and Grandma pulled me out of the office.
(Usually I would wake up at that point, but did not.) Instead we "went" home and their granny made a phone call. Then she started packing. While doing so she took one of our "ration books"... funny money....different colors and different bar codes....no numbers or denominations. And packed it with the stuff she had for our two granddaughters.
The next thing I know we are in our car and waiting to get into the "gas station".
Now this gas station was surrounded by a high double chain link fence. It had concertina wire along both bases and both tops. We were behind what looked like a county truck. When we pulled up to the open gate a khaki uniformed officer stood and ran a scanner over the right lower corner of our windshield. There was a decal with a bar code. He repeated on the back window and tapped the rear window and stepped aside as he looked at the car behind me. I pulled up to an open lane at one of the pumps. There were several males, all older teens, wearing orange coveralls. County Jail. Immediately they started working on my car like a team from NASCAR. I handed two "blue plastic cards" to the guy with the gas hose. While I was facing away one guy popped the hood. It was then that I notice another khaki uniform carrying a pump shotgun.
The guy I had handed the gas card (to) placed it into a slot where you would put your credit card. Only the pump pulled the card in and the gas began to flow. Officer Shotgun snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Aviator sunglasses and toothpick - I guess some things have not changed.
"Jimmy knows that this is DISTRICT ONLY today...." he drawled with a smile.
Jimmy handed over the second blue card and Officer Shotgun returned it to me. The guy who had popped the hood came up to Officer Shotgun. "Oil and air pressure good, boss. Could use a little brake fluid, coolant and washer fluid."
"Then get it done, son"....drawled Officer Shotgun. "Remember this car boys. It always gets the best stuff."
"Officer," I asked. "The Commander told me to ask for Sergeant Smith."
The officer's smile changed. "You are SMITH," his voice lost most of its frostiness. "It is an honor to meet you." He extended his hand and I shook it very firmly. "Just go around the office to the right and stop at the open door someone came in to meet you."
I did as directed and stopped at the door. Another orange jumpsuit was standing in the door. I got out of the car and simply said "Sergeant Smith" and watched him run inside. In moments a tall man in BLACK UNIFORM came out holding his helmet. He had command presence and looked Hispanic. So I took a leap of faith and greeted him with a cheerful "Buenos Diaz, Jeffe." Again I had one of "the enemy" smile and extending his hand. This was weird...so it had to BE GOD... "They told me your Spanish was horrible," he spoke quietly with a strong accent. Not Cuban, Mexican, or Puerto Rican I thought....
"I came to thank you for my men you saved and those you tried to. I owe you a debt "Mr. Smith".
With that statement he called out and men came forward with boxes. Orange Jumpsuits first and followed by BLACK UNIFORMS. They filled the trunk and one of the Black Uniforms stopped the flow and reloaded the trunk. He opened the rear door and I heard him speak to Grandma Neumann and she responded in Spanish much better than mine. He put boxes on the floor and on the rear seat. He closed the door and as he passed the officer he whispered. I caught a few words, the most interesting was a word I had not heard in many years..."Chinita"....a word that basically means " Chinese girl/woman'.
So I stated, "Sargente, me esposa no Chinita, me esposa Filipino". ---Sergeant, my wife is not Chinese, my wife is a Filipino. Which got smiles from both men. Something about "Chinese" made these HARD SOLDIERS a little uptight.
With another round of thank you's and handshakes we were off...
And I woke up....
Seeing how long this has become I will stop for now... I will tell you about "grocery shopping" from the last two of my dreams...
LORD HAVE MERCY
Bob
standeyo.com/NEWS/10_Prophecy/100326.5.dream.old men.html
Your OLD MEN Shall Dream Dreams
March 25, 2010
By Bob Neumann
The Prophet Joel wrote for us.... And it shall come to pass afterward, [that] I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: Proverbs 29:18 says Where [there is] no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy [is] he.
That term "vision" is interesting. Dr Strong gives his 3rd "definition" as; c) vision, oracle, prophecy (divine communication)
Too bad the compilers of the KJV and Dr Strong himself did not believe that there was much possibility for "modern" believers to actually have DIVINE COMMUNICATION. Personally I really never noticed when the VISIONS I used to have switched to DREAMS. So that makes me one of the "old men". Not sure how to think about it. What I do know is when THE MOST HOLY SPIRIT chooses to make "A FLOW"....whether it is DREAMS, VISIONS, or even a COMBINATION of both means THAT THE COMFORTER USES to get HIS MESSAGE ACROSS.
All you have to remember is that THE GOD of ABRAHAM, ISAAC, and JACOB changes not. So go back to our old friend JOB.... For God speaketh once, yea twice, [yet man] perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, That he may withdraw man [from his] purpose, and hide pride from man. He keepeth back his soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword.
So in obedience I write this. In totality, there were 5 DREAMS.....but fit together.
The Dreams
#1
In each of them I was with my wife, which was something that has not happened before. Also I was not an "outside observer". I was in my body with all my usual aches and pains. We were standing in a line, a few feet from a door that was wedged open. We were standing in one line with several other lines to either side of "our line". Our line had all the gray haired, those with walkers and wheel chairs. I noticed that there was a lack of "powered" mobility. One line had mothers and small children, all under 9-10 years I would guess. There was a separate line for older children....the cut off age I thought of as 16. Then there were separate lines for males and females, from late teens to early, healthy looking 50's.
So there were five lines. Some moved faster than others. Ours was slow, but eventually we came to one of two desks where my wife and I handed over "our cards". They were laminated with our pictures and a small "GOLD COLORED" square. We both pressed our thumbs to special pads wired to the computer. The person behind "our" computer looked up at us briefly and pushed at some buttons. I heard a strange sound and the person reached under the counter and brought out a small bundle and pushed it into a small machine I had not noticed. It did not staple, but it did make a "small book". The person handed the bundled book to my wife and returned her card. Obviously this was something we had done before. Before I got my book and card back my wife began to complain that we were "being cheated". She said our "usual" allotment/ration/whatever was always (here she said a number of some sorts, but I "missed it".
The person behind the computer said that there had been an across-the-board decrease for all "carders". That jumped out at me. Then the person said that we shouldn't complain because we had "over 23 million units on our cards". THEN MY WIFE GOT MAD AND RAISED HER VOICE. She said, "we had earned OUR money" and I began pulling her away.
My dear gentle wife did not notice the individuals in BLACK UNIFORMS moving towards us. That was when it got real FREAKY. The person behind the computer cursed at us and said "all you carders say that" and laughed. At that point the two BLACK UNIFORMS stopped and joked with each other and I heard them chuckling. What I did not hear was good old "American English" when they spoke.
As I pulled "mommy dearest" out of the building I noticed that all "the carders" behind us looked away from us or just looked down. I realized that very few people had complained as my wife had. But our line was the slowest. Only the (line with) mothers with small children was almost as slow as ours. It was then I noticed no one else used "cards". All the other lines moved quickly because they scanned hands, and handed each person there own "book". Mothers had to line up their children to be scanned, which took time. Small babies were not scanned. Not sure how they worked that out.
Did the "chips" cost more than "cards"? If so, then the why was obvious. Why waste chips on people who they did not expect to be around "TOO LONG"? Why waste chips on young babies if infant mortality was high? Health care may not have improved as promised....
Dreams #2 & #3
Then my wife and I were in a line in a different building. All were waiting, but the movement was pretty good. When we got into the building there were two computers, one with a woman rushing through people as quickly as possible. AS before my dear wife went first and did the thing with her card. She was given a light blue plastic card. The woman said "eight gallons" and my wife took it and gave me "that look". I had missed something. This time she pulled me towards the other computer where no one was sitting. So I stood and waited. Then a middle-aged man in a uniform a lot like our county sheriff's department wears (appeared). He walked to the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. "Sorry", he said as I handed him my card. "Mr. Neumann?", he asked in a normal voice.
I replied, "yes, sir".....
"No need for you to call me sir", he laughed.
"I only make those young guns bow and scrape."
He laughed again and was looking at the computer screen. "What do you go by, Robert or Bob?"
Momma was standing quietly behind me and had a worried look in her eyes. This obviously was a different experience than "we" have had earlier....the man laughed, so keep it light and friendly....
"My Mom called me Bob because she knew I wouldn't be too bright, so she gave me the only name she knew that was simple and the same spelled forwards or backwards."
With that he gave me a big belly laugh and slammed his fist on the counter. Everyone in the office behind the counter suddenly got "silent" and stared with frightened looks at this man in this "different" uniform with strange gold insignias on his shoulderboards.
Again he looked at the computer screen and was obviously reading everything that there was about me. So I kept silent not sure what to expect.
"As you know", he started and realized that there was something he expected me to have knowledge about. So I let him continue...."I am the new commander of this district....".
COMMANDER? DISTRICT?
"...and my predecessor left me with a few nasty messes to clean up."
Then he looked up at me. "In his brief he mentioned you as an asset. Usually I would strongly question such an opinion of someone who had messed up as bad as he did. But the records speak for themselves..."
Once again I had no clue what kind of "asset" he was talking about. Frankly I was afraid of what I had done.
"The record has it", he began quietly, "that you were placed as "permanently disabled" back in 1998."
I simply nodded.
"Compressed and degenerative lower vertebral column. Severe peripheral vascular disease," he stated in a flat voice. "It states 'very limited mobility and endurance' with moderate to severe chronic pain in back and legs." So far he was right on, but it made no sense.
"In the last month four times the previous commander placed his district on F.A.S."
I have no idea what those initials meant. But it had meaning to the office staff..... "and all four times you were available in ten minutes".
Again I was baffled.
"Now on the third F.A.S, we both know was for real. And four different memos were sent to command. It seems no one really knew how to treat chest and belly wounds. All four memos credit you for saving the lives of two of my troopers. Obviously that was not a coincidence."
"Twenty-five years of ER and Surgical ICU in Miami", I replied quietly.
"That also explains your Spanish." Again he chuckled. "I knew you must have been somewhere before M******* Hospital. Miami explains why there is no records..." Here he trailed off into silence looking again at the computer screen....
"Well, Bob..." he began slowly..."I run things differently than you are used to(??)...and you are an asset I want to keep functioning as long as I can."
With that he started tapping keys and nodding his head.
"Tomorrow Bob, you can get gas. When you do, ask for SARGENT SMITH." With that he handed me a stack of "light blue" cards.
My wife came forward with a gasp. "I think your grandbabies in Durham will be happy to see you Mrs. Neumann. Have a nice trip".
On that note he stood up and extended his hand. I gave him a firm manly handshake and Grandma pulled me out of the office.
(Usually I would wake up at that point, but did not.) Instead we "went" home and their granny made a phone call. Then she started packing. While doing so she took one of our "ration books"... funny money....different colors and different bar codes....no numbers or denominations. And packed it with the stuff she had for our two granddaughters.
The next thing I know we are in our car and waiting to get into the "gas station".
Now this gas station was surrounded by a high double chain link fence. It had concertina wire along both bases and both tops. We were behind what looked like a county truck. When we pulled up to the open gate a khaki uniformed officer stood and ran a scanner over the right lower corner of our windshield. There was a decal with a bar code. He repeated on the back window and tapped the rear window and stepped aside as he looked at the car behind me. I pulled up to an open lane at one of the pumps. There were several males, all older teens, wearing orange coveralls. County Jail. Immediately they started working on my car like a team from NASCAR. I handed two "blue plastic cards" to the guy with the gas hose. While I was facing away one guy popped the hood. It was then that I notice another khaki uniform carrying a pump shotgun.
The guy I had handed the gas card (to) placed it into a slot where you would put your credit card. Only the pump pulled the card in and the gas began to flow. Officer Shotgun snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Aviator sunglasses and toothpick - I guess some things have not changed.
"Jimmy knows that this is DISTRICT ONLY today...." he drawled with a smile.
Jimmy handed over the second blue card and Officer Shotgun returned it to me. The guy who had popped the hood came up to Officer Shotgun. "Oil and air pressure good, boss. Could use a little brake fluid, coolant and washer fluid."
"Then get it done, son"....drawled Officer Shotgun. "Remember this car boys. It always gets the best stuff."
"Officer," I asked. "The Commander told me to ask for Sergeant Smith."
The officer's smile changed. "You are SMITH," his voice lost most of its frostiness. "It is an honor to meet you." He extended his hand and I shook it very firmly. "Just go around the office to the right and stop at the open door someone came in to meet you."
I did as directed and stopped at the door. Another orange jumpsuit was standing in the door. I got out of the car and simply said "Sergeant Smith" and watched him run inside. In moments a tall man in BLACK UNIFORM came out holding his helmet. He had command presence and looked Hispanic. So I took a leap of faith and greeted him with a cheerful "Buenos Diaz, Jeffe." Again I had one of "the enemy" smile and extending his hand. This was weird...so it had to BE GOD... "They told me your Spanish was horrible," he spoke quietly with a strong accent. Not Cuban, Mexican, or Puerto Rican I thought....
"I came to thank you for my men you saved and those you tried to. I owe you a debt "Mr. Smith".
With that statement he called out and men came forward with boxes. Orange Jumpsuits first and followed by BLACK UNIFORMS. They filled the trunk and one of the Black Uniforms stopped the flow and reloaded the trunk. He opened the rear door and I heard him speak to Grandma Neumann and she responded in Spanish much better than mine. He put boxes on the floor and on the rear seat. He closed the door and as he passed the officer he whispered. I caught a few words, the most interesting was a word I had not heard in many years..."Chinita"....a word that basically means " Chinese girl/woman'.
So I stated, "Sargente, me esposa no Chinita, me esposa Filipino". ---Sergeant, my wife is not Chinese, my wife is a Filipino. Which got smiles from both men. Something about "Chinese" made these HARD SOLDIERS a little uptight.
With another round of thank you's and handshakes we were off...
And I woke up....
Seeing how long this has become I will stop for now... I will tell you about "grocery shopping" from the last two of my dreams...
LORD HAVE MERCY
Bob
standeyo.com/NEWS/10_Prophecy/100326.5.dream.old men.html