The “Man” of My Dreams

Years ago, it must have been about 1942 or ’43, I was sleeping and I experienced what I thought was a dream. I dreamed I was being chased by a giant-sized man. I was running over hills and mountains: he was chasing me with a sickle. I ran and ran until I couldn’t run any further. There was nowhere else to run; I was so high up.

Then the sky opened. It was a beautiful light blue and light pink in color. There stood a tall figure in white. He had white hair and a white robe. I don’t remember his feet, though I think he was probably barefoot. I could see him stretch out his arms and I ran right into them. He put his arms around me and he said, I’ll save you.” Then, the menacing giant of a man disappeared and I woke up.

Well, my grandfather who had passed away was a very religious man. He’d had a white beard and white hair, and I thought that if he’s in heaven, he must be wearing a white robe. Inasmuch as we Jewish people always figured that the dead intercede for us, I surmised it was my grandfather whom I had seen.

I sat up in my bed and my heart was still beating very fast. I said to myself, “Zohl zein tzu gutz” (Let it be for good), which my grandfather taught me to say. I figured, “Well, if it’s a dream, it’ll go away.” But when I closed my eyes again, I saw the vision of this man in white. I couldn’t understand why I kept seeing this vision in front of my eyes even when I was awake.

The next day I told an old Jewish lady who I worked with about my dream. She said, “Forget about it.” But I couldn’t forget about it. Every night when I laid down, I had the same vision. I came to be really frightened. I remembered as a child that my mother used to give money to the shul. It was said that if we had a dream or something else that was bothering us, give some money for charity and it would go away. So that’s what I did. But it kept on bothering me and bothering me.

After a time, I also told a Christian friend of mine about this and she said, “You dreamt of Jesus.” Well, I figured, what have I got to do with Jesus? Jesus was for the Gentiles and I’m Jewish. I don’t have anything to do with Jesus.

Still, the dreams and visions continued. But I really began to get frightened when I started dreaming about the death of my son. I saw it happening. When it came to pass just as I had seen it in my dreams, I realized the first dream must be true, too. I had to have these other dreams about my son in order to see the truth in the first one.

It took a number of years, but I began inquiring. I obtained a Bible and started reading and searching. It was because I wanted to get closer to God that I started reading the Bible. There I found all the various prophecies that pertained to His Son and I wanted to find out who His Son was. So I kept on reading.

Then, 11 years after the first dream I agreed to go with this Christian lady to a dinner being held in a church. A Jewish man was scheduled to speak after dinner. I listened to him and after hearing him repeat all the things that I knew as a child about the kaporeh, the sacrifice at Yom Kippur, my interest was very high. Then he said that Jesus is our sacrifice and I realized that was what I had been waiting for. The man who spoke that night was a Hebrew Christian. He spoke my “language.” I could understand it. I knew that was what I was waiting for and I accepted Jesus as my Messiah that night.

That was 25 years ago. My hopes, my prayers, my entire being is what I can do for the Lord. The dreams, they stopped. You see, the events took place. I did run into Jesus’ arms and He did save me. So why should God provide regular reruns for me? Ge-nug, (sufficient).


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