by Caryl McAdoo
He climbed into bed and held the covers open for her. She slipped in and snuggled next to her husband, pressing in tight. “I’m most shocked by the number and diversity of the animals. How they all journeyed to Adam’s Valley and filed onto the ark. Did you see? Each knew exactly where their place was.”
“Wasn’t it amazing?” He laughed.
Turning, she kissed him. “I think we should celebrate our first night in the ark.”
He grinned then blew out the oil lamp.
Weary and sated, Jemri laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. In no time, his breathing leveled out, and he made his sounds of slumber she’d come to know. How did he do it? Though not as fast as her husband, sleep found her, too, and all those thoughts of what needed doing the next day faded away into sweet dreams.
She sat up in the darkness. Her heart raced. What was that noise? Where was she?
A hand touched her back. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
The sound of her husband’s voice brought understanding and comfort.
“Has the cock crowed?”
“No, what woke you?”
“I…I…it was so real. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then when I opened my eyes, I couldn’t figure out where I was or what made that horrible noise.” She turned to him and laid back down. “But then you touched me, and spoke, and I knew I was safe. Finally realized where we were.”
“So a dream, then? A bad one? Tell me what you could no longer stand.”
“Somehow, it seemed more real than a dream. Like I was there.” She exhaled, her pulse still racing, but no longer pounding like before.
He rolled out of bed, fiddled with the flint until a spark caught the kindling, then lit the oil lamp. “Come on. We’ll make tea, and you can tell me of your night vision.”
Jemri joined him. “You think that’s what it was?”
“Sounds like it, but….” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Who but God knows?”
“So true.”
While he lit more lamps, she built a small fire in the stove and put on a pot of water. Bless God, he’d brought it to surprise her. She loved having Grandmother Laurel’s own cook stove and was thankful it belonged to her now. She still missed the old dear, but nothing like Grandfather Lamech.
Shem slipped into his seat at the little table. “So tell me your dream.”
“You remember the giant who saved Varsi and I?”
He grinned. “I’ve heard you talk of him, but I never knew the man you call Friend.”
She pursed her lips, but refrained from getting physical. No telling where that would lead, and she for one needed all the energy she could muster to face the new morn. Would she know when it began? With no windows, would anyone? Praise God Noah put so many lamps on the hall walls or she’d be working in the dark even if the day did dawn.
“Anyway, I dreamed of that day again like I have so many times, but then when we met up with Grandfather Lamech, instead of getting in the wagon as I really did that morning, I went with Friend.” She faced him and held his eyes. “He isn’t a man though.”
“No? Then what?”
“An angel. Of the host.”
“The host you say? What is that?”
“I’m unsure. It’s what he said. On his back, he’s got big wings, like a bird. And I flew with him. There’s an army of the winged men. At first in my dream, we ran through the forest going really fast, so swiftly that it blurred my vision. Maybe a furlong or two, then he looked back and we stopped.”
The steam’s whistle brought her out of her remembrance. She hurried over and scooted the pot to the side, dropped in the dried tea leaves then sat back down.
“Anyway, he threw off his coat, folded it into a hand-sized bundle, then stuffed it into a hip pocket, except the tunic he wore…it wasn’t of fabric…not as we know. I know it sounds strange, but it was more like…out of light. I don’t know exactly, but its shimmery, like a dull shine. But then he unfolded his giant wings, grabbed my hand, and we flew.”
Shem jumped up. “In the air? Wow, what was it like? Go on, I’ll pour us a cup.”
“Wait on mine. I like it to steep longer.”
“Do we have any cream?”
“No.”
He filled his cup and sat back down. “Go on. What happened then?”
“He sang three sharp notes, and a little blue circle in the sky opened before us. It went to sparking as it expanded, and we flew right through it. That’s when I saw all the rest. As though there were more winged men than grapes on the summer vine, he explained what I witnessed was called a Legion.”
“I would love to behold a legion of angels of the host. But why…?”
She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Only God knows. Then he told me that they war with each other.”
“They fight?”
“With songs. Their weapons are new songs.”
“Did you hear them sing?”
“Oh, Shem, it was awesome at first when Centurion’s –”
“Is that the giant’s name?”
“No, he told me it’s what he is. Of yet, he has no name. Hasn’t allowed himself to be named.”
“That’s odd.” He pondered looking off toward the stove. “Jemri, this has to be a vision. There’s no way you could make all this up. Winged men who fight with songs. What exactly is a Centurion? Do you know?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. But when Centurion’s angels sang…it was so beautiful. Then the others came, evil ones who also fly. Their song had a…” She stood and hugged herself. “In a way, they sort of sounded good on the surface. Some of the songs. But the beat, their rhythm…it hurt my heart, made me want to plug my ears.”
“So how do they fight each other by just singing?”
“I don’t know. The whole Legion soared in huge slow circles. The enemy, too, but in the opposite direction. Then when two or three of one side would fly out to the middle with their new song, the others would match them in the center of those flying rings, and the battle was on. Soon, feathers fell, only a few at first, then more and more, so many it looked like autumn leaves dancing on the wind, dropping, falling, and the angels losing the most withdrew.”
“That sounds so interesting. And beautiful. Sounds like a prophetic vision, not merely a dream. But what frightened you?”
She closed her eyes. The image still clear in her mind’s eye, just as horrible as before. “I looked down. It…what I saw….” She gulped and went to pour herself a cup of tea. When she turned back, her eyes filled. “I couldn’t stand it. Praise God, I woke.”
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Praying my story gives God glory!
Blessings, Caryl
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Hey dear Reader!
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Caryl