Something stirred in the back of my mind yesterday. Far off and faint like the first thump of a helicopter’s coming. It’s coming slowly, coming nearer, louder, sharper. Small desperate cries faint beneath the thumping. My mind tells me, grasp on to it. See, listen; while the other part of my mind tells me to turn away and not to see. To flee the picture which forces its way into my mind. What was it I saw – the Dome of the Rock, the Western Wall, the hills surrounding the city – a memorial garden? The warmth, the laughter, the heat – people, loud voices. Turning inwards - their cries. Such pain, such appalling pain, a vast sea of faces - a swarm gathering – there is no escaping their fate. Silence in a desolation in so vast a barren landscape . Even the innocent will die. Each footstep I took was upon parched white bones. Is this the agonising path they must tread? How quickly the dead become just bones. There was no pity within me - only desolation and tears. My soul cried out – “do not do this” yet my words remained unheard as they echoed and echoed around me. Even now I ask myself “Why”? “Why”? “Why”? … and then it faded within seconds into the dark cloying mist of memory …only the memory of it is left - - replaying again and again, like a clop from a film I’d never wanted to see.

The images remain vivid and warm in my mind. I’ve stopped briefly in my work and thought about the vision which is now blurred and softened. I find myself lost in thought at the most odd times during the day. There are notes I want to make and reminders to jot down. I’ve written down most of what occurred, described it as best I can, yet ...

The words familiar in away carried a sadness and a longing broken by long sighing phrases and by catched sobs and seemed to speak of the saddest things in life, want and fear, death and love, early death and painful partings. I knew what the words were, although I didn’t understand fully - the words were part of the rhythm of life itself - even now their sad and lonely tune remains with me.

I’ve tried to make sense of the things I’ve seen - the cup given to me which I held warmly in my hands not knowing nor understanding, confused. Staring into its depths, seeing nothing, understanding little of the words by which I was surrounded. The sip, a warm salty taste. I felt a burning warmth, rising, pulsing within my body and my body filled with heat. Held for a moment it flowed strongly within. A mingling - the blood ran out of me, dripped from me, to puddle beneath my feet and then to seep outwards, inching endlessly across the land. I was no less frightened, yet it my fear I was filled with a great love - the love cast out my fear. I stood watching the scene before me, yet I knew I was not dying. I felt a presence beside me but I could not see nor do I know who it was. It was not threatening. Yet in some way I felt that whoever stood beside me, also had the slow, strong sweep of blood in his veins and that in some way the blood flows in all our veins and has flowed there all our lives.

It doesn’t make sense. What did I see. Nothing just the cup - a dark (stone?) goblet - which I cupped in my hands. The land beneath my feet was dry, not dusty- just an expanse - the voices spoke in a language that I did not understand yet I seemingly understood their rhythm and meaning.

Another vision - concerning Israel - how can I describe what was portrayed to me? A lone man standing where the table use to be, the wall destroyed, sand. There was nothing left but this one man. His face was hidden from me. On his back he carried a great burden (or was it a shadow of some burden?). A great eagle appeared that seemed to be a part of the man (or was the man a part of the eagle?) A golden bird, beautiful - huge - wings outstretched - soaring - it disappeared. I called out to it, don’t leave me here - take me with you - it didn’t hear my voice - my voice was a mere whisper, an echoing whisper in the land - like the wind through sand. I wanted to climb onto its back, to fly with it, to feel the freedom it offered, to soar high and feel the wind in my face and be surrounded by the warmth of its great feathers but it wasn’t aware of my existence. A great feeling of sadness swept over me as I turned to look at the burning, blistering desolate land - I knew I would have to cross it - that there would be no sanctuary from the pain that it offered. Each step was an agony - each tear drop offered was the blood of those who had died, even the tree of life had withered and the golden cup laid battered and empty as I was empty. I gathered up the withered roots and the battered cup and as I walked these things became a part of me. And what of the end? There was no end - no end to the pain and the suffering and the agony ... only emptiness ...

There is want in the world and I know little of it. There is too much darkness and death, disease and war and evil. Yes, very much evil. There is fear and danger all around us yet I am blessed with peace and plenty. This is a peaceful haven and I know if for what it is. Events of the wider world remain remote and the troubles that abound seemingly a distant soft murmur that impinge on consciousness. I turn my eyes to the flickering television screen and I watch knowing so well the storm that yet lies ahead. I sense upheaval, a disturbance in the air. Terrible events continue to proceed along their ordained course. I feel the rolling, churning, chaos forever moving forward. Pictures spin through my mind, impossible to comprehend in their frenzied snatches. My own beliefs are as old as fear itself and my beliefs are not easily altered, nor easily abandoned. The central fact of the pictures is extraordinary but I have come to accept the extraordinary with the same facile assent of the dreary commonplace.

The words I write from the images seen of what is and what may be are scattered with their glories and of the terror of mankind. Who among us is mighty enough to forestall such destruction in the coming century? The world will continue turning and the affairs of men continue apace, there will be more violence, armies in movement, people once again moving across borders. If man knew what looms before him would he change? No, I doubt it – man will learn in the most painful of ways – for our future is a blessing and a curse. Our lives will be changed and events will gallop forever onwards and a great many changes will come to pass. Perhaps it is better than mankind does not know what lies ahead for when they fully know the truth man will carry it for a long, long time. But I know as I have always known. We imagine we see the world as it is. What we see is the world we imagine. We do not see the world as it is and men as they truly are.

Australia sits like a rock in the sea, the terrors will wash these shores but will recede and the rock will remain unchanged. I know that wisdom will be given when wisdom is required, courage when courage is required, and life when life is required. All things will be given. Never will our sons fight better or with more courage. It is they and their blood that will make this land secure again. I am not bereft of hope. Hope is there is my heart.

America like Europe remains deeply shadowed and dark, twisted and burnt, surrounded by swirling forces that cannot be contained. Europe will continue to lie within a welter of confusion. There are those will vie for position and power and who will be filled with ambition and greed. They will seek to snatch what they can from the times of confusion. Alliances will change with the wind; loyalties will ebb and flow with the tide. The eagle remains wings scorched and screaming – so many dead, dying … they will be pierced with arrows before they draw their own swords. Do they not hear the things internally and externally whispered on the winds of time? Will they continue to remain aloof and unconcerned with squabbles in distant lands because they believe it will not affect them? They cavort in the twilight believing that they are invincible and that the seasons will continue to come and go. Ruin will proceed from this

Only the eternal stars will ever remain, glittering hard and fast in the dark skies. We will learn the truth of all things, to one day explore those distant stars. How I wish I could travel the craft that will ferry mankind into the universes beyond this one. When our sun explodes in a billion years hence wiping this earth from the heavens the distant stars will remain, unchanged, carrying the future seed of man.

Now, even days after the event, I still find it difficult to understand what it is that was portrayed. My words do not do justice to what was seen. How can I explain what I fully saw? Perhaps my imagination is playing a trick on me, or rather is playing the same trick over and over again. It’s as if what was seen has become arrested at a particular frame. In my imagination I see the light come on again and the images flow on. The script is different each time but not the end towards which the action is flowing and some words come to mind “In my fathers house there are many mansions.” I hope this is true and if it is true that what was seen in the vision will not eventuate ...

Once again, I was thrown into another place. The wall is still broken, still falling but something has changed, the sands have quivered. A shifting of oaths, a new movement of purposes? There was no table only a group of people who stood erect, pallid of face, staring ahead as if alone - each man of himself alone. (Until they are themselves of the soul, they’ll remain strangled by the chains within them.) Scornful and forever grumbling, they will become weakened by their display of nothingness. Their shadows will continue to hover at the cross roads even at noon. Voices raged without purpose, argumentative. Shadowy faces became tense. One face remained impervious, almost menacing, its whiteness not that of goodness though perhaps of fealty. He who will remain undeterred, who will bring death by his faithfulness, will also deceive. Around him blood flows, at first a trickle and then a deep broad river, rushing, tumbling. Chanting heard beneath is depths, echoing, echoing ... Face upon face passed me by. Those that stand alone disappeared within its torrent of bitterness and despair, submerged in a hate of their own making. The four with crowns upon their heads worked frantically, shoring up that which had broken free which threatened to bring death and destruction to surrounding lands but they have also remained solitary and aloof and will become broken. Behind them, huge and immovable, wings outstretched, covering those within its reach, remained the eagle, eyes wide open, unblinking. Head raised it screamed its own anger and agony caught within the brilliant flash of light. Undeterred it remained, scorched, blackened but not broken hovering, and watching.

Time turns, the wind blows, the sands rise and subside, the wheel of time marches forward. Emptiness and desolation remained, nothing seen but white bones scattered across empty landscape. The deads’ flame is blown out and ever more shall be so.

Something else occurred - words were spoken, words which I’ve forgotten and cannot for the life of me recall. Why do I feel bereaved, as though I’d lost someone only recently. It weighs heavily upon me, this unknown loss.

The furious activity of the pictures engulf me so unexpectedly that, a moment afterwards, I am left suspended, waiting, watching, knowing, hating, praying that what I have seen won't eventuate. I cannot speak or even cry out, for the pain they cause remains inside myself.

I have reason to believe the reality of what you have written, but it still hits me with a jolt. It takes some thinking. it's whether any good can be accomplished or perhaps whether it will do any harm. My head whirls with possibilities and speculations, all jumbled together, with two worlds rushing in or one another in exotic confusion. You tell me that if events are known we can adapt to them. Adapt or manipulate? You've written that the message and information is important. Whatever is seen may be predictions of events, but whatever is seen is not bound to happen. Perhaps, as you say, what is seen can be pointers to the future pattern of life from which connections between different parts of the pattern of today can be glimpsed. They should not be used as prophesy, nor should they be violated. The future is for everyone to live, not for some to manipulate.

They transcend the layers of conventional reality and I experience their separate vision, Their dimension suspends notions of time, space and causality. How can they tell about events distant in time and place? Is it not a mistake to assume that events far apart in time are separate. Do we see life, as you have written, as in viewing a room by the light of a torch beam and that often the error is made in assuming that the small areas highlighted are separate and not part of a whole?

The eyes of an ordinary person are capable of seeing only the most obvious, there are many, many more things unseen by us, that impinge on our lives at every step. They are there, but most cannot see or deal with them directly. Can I glimpse these things that others fail to see. I spin a web with words, yet it is hard to grasp what it is I see fully with words. Sometimes I feel I fail in my descriptions. I can only touch on the shadow of their reality with my words, whereas their encounter can be something entirely different.

I have try and find the words to rationalise my experiences. I cannot just blindly accept. It makes it easier if I have some understanding of what is happening in my mind. I have to try and understand what is happening to me and in the world. You have written that I am naturally endowed with perceptual abilities beyond the normal, abilities to see, hear and experience things which others would consign to the realms of the paranormal. My words are an attempt to explain what it is I've seen, but they are not the true reality for I cannot capture their reality fully with words. No words can describe my experience fully. How can I explain what I little understand or that which is only briefly glimpsed? I cannot see their full extent - only a part. I do not view their totality. They cannot be recorded simply or easily, they are just too vast and often too complex for me to comprehend.

I cannot stand back to observe what it is I see in my mind as a separate force. My emotions spill over into my writing. I'm not immune to what I see. Sometimes a picture can hit so strongly that I find myself shaking. I have my own biases and prejudices, weaknesses and strengths, fragility and courage, hopes and frustrations like everyone else and these are reflected in my recording of the pictures The pictures portray uncounted horrors. I'm still vulnerable to being hurt by more horror. The pictures are enough to frighten anyone. It's one thing to imagine the future, its another to live it.

It is hard even now to believe that what I've seen could become reality. It goes beyond human imagining. Grief, loss, horror, rage, these feelings have flowed through me. I also feel a profound confusion, a disbelief that leaves me feeling empty.

I'm isolated,, in a world to which I alone have access. I'm not mad, but I must be among the dammed to see such things. Could I be wrong in my recordings? I feel so helpless knowing what I do. On and on my thoughts twist. Why is it I see such things? Why is it I have the gift of seeing, as no living person can see, into the vast heart of human darkness?

I find it difficult to put my negative feelings aside at times because of the pictures. There are many horrors in this world today. The seeds of what will come have already been planted and have begun to sprout, but they have not yet flowered. The pattern has still to be woven. The future is past all imagining and is very real to me. When I think about it in terms of actual events, I believe the horrors shouldn't be revealed. It's not easy to describe events and the magnitude of change we are to face. The assault on my own senses is almost too much for me at times. I am not sure that I am able to apprehend what I see fully, so much is divorced from anything and everything I know. It is so nearly impossible, I think, to take in and even try to comprehend. So much is alien to my eyes. How do I sum up the events portrayed? Who would believe it, who could ever imagine it? I don't think I even begin to understand the relationship between today and tomorrow.

Yes, you’ve identified the melange of contradictory feelings within myself. I find it hard to analyse my own complex feelings. I realise the dangers inherent in what it is I see. I carry their burden and with this burden comes responsibility. You’re right, I don’t trust enough, I don’t trust the morality of ourselves.