So my third dream in a row, this week, came Friday night. The essence of it... Jesus decided to take me home before the complete demise of my faith.
We were walking the streets of some large city while someone was talking about a death they thought was going to occur of some girl they did not know. Whom ever was speaking said that the girl was killed after she was hit by a truck. At that point in time the group of us spread out on the sidewalk, so I stepped off the curb. A pickup truck backed up and hit me, it's tail pipe wedged into my heart before it pulled forward and drove off. I watched myself as I stood up and walked off and realized I was dying. I was dead. I looked over to Christ clung to Him and told Him "thank you!" -for bringing me home before I destroyed my relationship with Him. I was truly at peace and grateful that He chose that moment. I was glad.
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