THE TEMPLE DREAMER - AFTER THE COLLAPSE

December, 2007
These dreams began about a year and a half ago. They were sporadic at first, then began to occur more frequently as time passed. For most of the last year, they have occurred two to three nights per week, and sometimes repeat more than once within a single night. Some are very detailed; others only broad sketches of events. Most are vivid, in that sounds, and sometimes even odors, make themselves known.

I have rearranged these events into what amounts to a very rough chronology. Where appropriate, I've made notes as to when they occurred.

A number of these dreams have involved planning for what I've come to see as an exodus of the prepared Saints from their homes, to places of relative safety. The first dreams that described plans and preparations did not occur until well into the sequence of dreams I've experienced. They did not occur at first. One of the most puzzling things about the dreams as a group is that they did not come to me in a logical sequence, beginning to end. It's been left to me to make sense out of them, even when they appear to be far out of order.

From what my dreams have told me, I gather that the prepared Saints are leaving their homes to escape the end of the world as we've known it. The planning for this exodus has been under way at high levels in the church for years. Vast amounts of preparation have gone into the effort before it is ever made known at the stake or ward levels. Resources are already in place before the events shown in the dreams begin to take place.

The first dreams in the chronology take place in what is obviously my own stake center in xxx, Utah. There are a series of meetings which take place in the High Council Room (which I recognize) of this building, between brethren that I do not recognize, and members of my own stake presidency and High Council. These meetings are attended only by invited brethren, and the strictest confidence is maintained.

Other similar meetings are being held throughout the Church. Each area's responsible leaders report to headquarters at Salt lake City by various means, including telephone, electronic mail, and even satellite link when necessary.

At these meetings, a plan is revealed for getting the prepared Saints from their homes to prearranged places of relative safety. Over the course of a number of these meetings, the effort is organized in a manner strikingly similar to that used when the Saints were preparing to leave the eastern United States for the valleys of the Great Basin.

There are to be overall leaders in charge of large numbers of people. Under these brethren, others serve as captains of 100, and as captains of 20. Logistics are managed using the basic underpinnings of emergency preparedness that the Church has been teaching since the 1930's. Arrangements for trucks to haul food storage items and other necessities are made. Telephone calling trees are arranged as necessary, as are other means of communication, including specific people assigned as runners, couriers, and go-betweens when necessary.

Finally, on one critical Sabbath day, as the normal meeting block nears its end, the bishop of my ward (and presumably bishops throughout the church on the same day) stands at the pulpit, and gives a rather strange announcement. He asks that those who have their year's supply of food and other necessities ready at home stay behind at the end of meeting block. All others (including curiosity seekers) are pointedly asked NOT to attend. This is strictly enforced.

 

 

Once the furor has died down, and the chapel doors have again been closed (being guarded by trusted brethren pre-assigned to the task), the Bishop lays out a plan which requires a great deal of faith from the attendees. He says that very early on the following morning, trucks manned by able-bodied brethren will move around the ward, and these men will upload the food storage supplies, carefully marked as to who they belong to, from the homes of each of the prepared families into the trucks for transport.

Family members will be asked to prepare themselves and their immediate families for a long journey, as they will be away from home for an extended period. These people will be loaded onto buses for a journey to a place of safety. They are warned that conditions will often be quite harsh, and that creature comforts, as such, will be few.

A few families will be allowed to bring RV's, house trailers and the like, with the understanding that these will be used for special purposes after arrival at the destination. Some of these RV's will have been equipped by their owners for special purposes such as generating power or heat, providing makeshift command posts, improvised medical infirmaries and the like. Strict attention will be paid to practicality, and few resources expended on luxuries. Allowances will be made for pregnant women, those currently ill, and for newborn infants to be housed in such "hardened" quarters as the RVs may provide. Most ward members will be quartered in tents. or whatever other shelter may be available at the various destination points.

Most ward members will be asked to leave with only what they are wearing, and a few small bags containing personal items, prescription medications, and other similar necessities. They are to lock their homes securely, and bring with them only essential items, important papers, and so on.

The whole process is to be done quietly, with an effort being made to maintain as much secrecy as possible. It is stressed repeatedly that there is no reason to fear, but that there are real reasons for haste.
One of the most vivid of the dreams (and among the first I experienced) has repeated itself quite a number of times, each time from a slightly different point of view, and with different feelings and impressions noted each time.

 

 

  The scene is the west parking lot of my stake center. It's evident that similar events are occurring throughout the church.

It's very early on what appears to be a morning in late winter. The moon has set in the west not long before, and the constellation Orion isn't far above the western horizon. As I stand in the parking lot of the building, looking toward the east, I see the constellations that will, in a few weeks, be part of the springtime evening sky rising at this pre-dawn hour.

The position of the constellations, coupled with the fact that participants are dressed in winter clothing, and that there are still patches of unmelted snow on the ground confirms that the time of year is indeed, late winter.

People are milling about, speaking in hushed tones. Only a few lights are burning in the stake center. Most light comes from flashlights carried by brethren helping families onto buses which wait grouped around the building. The whole effort is well organized and orderly, as sleepy-eyed children and their somewhat bewildered parents are helped aboard buses, while a careful accounting is kept of which families are aboard which buses. No one must be left behind, and family members must not be allowed to get separated.

The supply trucks and RV's have already moved out when the last of the buses is loaded, and the journey to prepared places of refuge begins. The buses move out in caravan well before the first rays of sunlight touch the mountains to the west.

As this dream ends each time, I hear the squeak of snow underfoot, and the crunching of small cinders under my boot soles as I walk down the steep hills toward home. The air is almost painfully cold in the pre-dawn darkness. The stake center sits now fully darkened, its parking lot empty behind me, and I feel alone almost to the point of fear.

For reasons that have never been made clear, I have been asked (along with a few others in my area) to remain behind. The reasons for this haven't been made clear, except that they have something to do with the xxx temple. One of the greatest mysteries in this whole series of dreams is why I've been asked to stay behind when there are so many better-qualified brethren among us. I just don't know.

As time has gone on, I have had many dreams which speak of economic collapse not just in our country, but around the world. America's great power, both economic and military, has been eroded to the point where America is just one poor nation among many. Oil and related energy prices will have risen to the level where just getting by takes every dollar most families can generate. Gasoline, what little there is of it, is simply too expensive to use for most of us. Personal cars lie abandoned in driveways, or wherever in the streets they ran out of fuel.

 

 

  Natural gas for heating homes no longer flows through the pipelines much of the time. Most of us live in cold, rather dark homes. Candles are at a premium, since electrical power is only available a few hours a day, when it's available at all. People have been forced to hunker down. Times are harder than we've experienced since pioneer days.

Food is in similarly short supply, since the energy costs in producing it have outstripped the resources of the producers. Civilian air travel has virtually ceased, since energy costs have made running a profitable
airline almost impossible. Only military aircraft pass overhead, albeit infrequently. Railroads still operate at skeleton levels, moving what little freight remains to be transported.

Internationally, much of Western Europe is all but dark, since oil flowing to the west from the former Soviet Union has been all but cut off by those running the Kremlin. Old alliances are being firmed up again between mainland China and the Russian bear. Naval fleets are being readied, as are the largest standing armies in the world.

The Middle East is a fire, with Israel hanging on by its fingernails, struggling just to exist in a world bent on its destruction. AI-Qaida and similar organizations have turned much of the world into a killing ground, from the Middle East, through Indonesia and the Far East. Radical Islam holds sway in an ever growing portion of the world. Terrorism is rampant.

Through all of this, the United States military is entirely unable to cope. Its resources have been consumed, and its personnel driven beyond exhaustion in wars of attrition in the Middle East, and on the Korean peninsula. Government leadership has ordered them to fight on, even when it has become obvious that victory is impossible. Aircraft, vehicles, and fighting gear from tanks to rifles are all worn out, and there is no funding to replace them. The once-proud military of the Cold War has been replaced by a force of willing, brave men and women, with nothing to fight with. Determination can only carry these people so far; and they've exceeded that limit.

Australia's position in the world has become untenable. Since Virtually all of its fuel, metal, oil, and other raw material needs must be met via import from overseas, this huge island is effectively just that; a large and helpless island. Starvation has become commonplace, as has disease, and the lawlessness that comes with despair. Airline travel has all but stopped, and ships leaving the country are few. Piracy on the high seas has become commonplace in the waters around both Australia and New Zealand. Murder of crews and passengers is commonplace, and beyond the reach of law enforcement to control. To travel away by sea is not a good alternative.

 

 

  The media have been taken over by propaganda-generating organizations. People are being lied to on the grandest scale in human history. The United States is slowly being invaded by outside forces, military and paramilitary. There are only limited moves to stop the invasion, since most people are unaware that it is happening.

Those Saints who have joined the caravans to relative safety have arrived at their destinations in a number of other dreams. Most are housed in what are effectively tent cities. Again, much of the organization of these tent cities resembles the settlements of pioneer times.

There are local governments in each camp, run strictly along church lines. Communication between camps is mostly by courier, with only occasional communications from church headquarters in Salt Lake City.

Those people who are unable to work (the elderly, the infirm, young children, etc.) are cared for as well as circumstances permit. Those who are physically and mentally fit to work are expected to do so. Those who refuse to work, or who do not adhere to the rules of the camps are dealt with severely. Banishment without supplies or tools is used as punishment in most cases. In extreme instances, these individuals are eliminated.

Those with special training (medical doctors and nurses, engineers with experience in areas such as structural engineering, water purification, agricultural production, and so on) put their talents and training to work at building needed structures, providing drinkable safe water to the encampments, and building and working in greenhouses to help grow food for barter, and to augment the stored food supply for each camp.

My dreams haven't told me precisely where these encampments are located, except to make it clear that at least some of them are in places where they are "hiding in plain sight" from the bands of roving troublemakers (whom I think of as two-legged predators) which fan out from the cities in search of food or whatever else they can find.

I can only make some guesses as to where some of these camps are located. At least one is in the xxx valley of northern Utah. Several more are in various places in the rugged mountains of southern Idaho. I know this because I'm familiar with the terrain in these areas, and it strongly resembles that seen in my dreams. At least one of the Idaho encampments is in a heavily wooded area, where even at midday, only a little sunlight penetrates.

I believe that at least one camp is located not far from xxx, Nevada. Yet another lies in or near the xxx mountains of New Mexico.

Another encampment, largely housed underground in a complex built in the 1950's for protection from atomic attack, lies somewhere in Maryland. There is a second encampment somewhere in the xxx mountains of Maryland, and a third elsewhere in northern Virginia. How I know these things I am not certain, because I've never visited either Maryland or Virginia; but I'm convinced the encampments are there.

There are enclaves in the red rock country of southern Utah, and in northern Arizona.
Many of the world's great cities either lie in ruin, or have largely been abandoned to roving bands of two-legged predators. london is a battleground, as is Tel Aviv. Paris has again been taken over by invaders of various stripes. Berlin is barely habitable.

In the United States, los Angeles and San Francisco are jammed with desperate people trying to ride out the storm. Much of Boston's low-lying areas are in ruin, having been destroyed by water in cataclysmic tidal waves. Only the Boston Temple and its outbuildings are untouched by the waters.
Chicago is another urban battleground, with battle lines being drawn between ethnic groups. In that regard, it resembles London, Tel Aviv, Paris, and Berlin.

The only city I've been shown that may have endured atomic attack is Denver, Colorado. Much of the city is flattened, though this might have been done by conventional explosives if enough of them were used in a coordinated fashion. Survivors along the Front Range have fled to the surrounding mountains. Those trapped in Denver itself are in desperate straits indeed.
In Salt Lake City, life in daytime is rugged. Roving bands of street toughs rob, steal, loot, and take over whole city blocks. Those who remain in the city trying to live, hide almost constantly from these thugs. For those trapped here, it must be like living in Iraq was during the second Gulf War. At night, the streets are deserted. One must never venture out at night.

 

 

  The understory of the area around Temple Square is gridded with an extensive network of well-secured underground tunnels. Temple Square itself is almost pristine. Church government continues to function here, though entry to the square is strictly controlled. Entry to the tunnel network is heavily defended, and the whole system is virtually impregnable to any but those authorized to be here.

Many of my dreams (which recur many times, sometimes separated from each other by weeks) concern my own activities as a "stay-behinder" in this story. It's never really made clear to me why only a few of us have stayed behind at the request of our leaders. Again, the only thing I can say with certainty is that it has something to do with the xxx Temple.

Whether we serve there as caretakers, overseers, workers performing special ordinances, or for whatever reason I cannot tell. I do know that we still dress always in white, maintain the customary reverent silence by talking in whispers, and behave much as we do during today's routine ordinance work.

Since there is little or no electrical power available on the city's grid, and diesel fuel for the temple's generators is extremely expensive and hard to obtain, I can only assume that the halls of the temple are largely dark and quiet. This building was designed in times when electrical power was always readily available so that light coming in from outside wasn't critical. I have no idea how we manage in this tomblike building in the daytime, never mind during the hours of the night when even light from the outside is at a minimum. Somehow, whatever the work is that we're expected to do, we manage.
The temple has become a place dreaded, and often feared by outsiders.

I can't help remembering reading a fable as a child, where Grendel's cave was the terrible place to avoid.
In this case, the xxx Temple is such a place. Most people avoid it as if it were haunted. Many who go there with the idea of breaking into it either to destroy it, or to take whatever treasures they may find within, never return to report their adventures. The temple has a reputation among the desperate of the
area, as a place to watch carefully, and to stay away from.

 

 

  One scenario that has recurred many times in my dreams (interestingly enough, seen through the eyes of more than one participant during multiple repeats) is one where a group of armed men, some on horseback, approach the front door of the temple on the main-floor level. These men are not in military uniform, but are heavily armed with sporting rifles, and the sorts of other improvised weapons that two legged predators are wont to carry in this time.

We inside hear them coming, and for whatever reason, I'm elected to go out and talk to them. Perhaps I'm just taking my turn, since there are other brethren inside at least as able as I am to deal with the situation. As I said, for whatever reason, this time is my time.
We manage to slide open one of the large doors in the glassed-in alcove that fronts the temple, and I step outside onto a patch of snow-encrusted concrete on the easternmost side of the alcove. I'm dressed in the usual white suit, carrying my cane, and limping a bit. The door is slid shut behind me, and the brethren inside quickly disappear (as we always do) behind the screen backing the recommend desk.

The men outside quickly point their weapons at me, until I remind them that they're pointing loaded guns at an unarmed man who limps, and walks with a cane. Even among thugs, there must be at least a particle of honor, since most lower their weapons while glancing at each other through the corners of their eyes.

The leader of the group (one of the men on horseback) tells me that they are at the temple to search it for weapons, food, or things of value, and then to destroy it by fire. I reply that they, the "unclean" (not a word I'd normally use in daily conversation) are not allowed to enter. I tell them that there are no weapons or worldly treasures inside, no soldiers, and only a little food.

I beg them repeatedly to leave the temple, and those of us inside, in peace. They refuse.
There's a disconnect here that is consistent. I've never seen what happens next.
The next thing I DO see is that the horses have dumped their human cargo and are fleeing at top speed, looking over their shoulders as if the very hounds of hell were after them. Most of the humans are making tracks through the heavy snow too, moving as fast as they can in snow almost to their knees. A few men remain face-down in the snow; whether simply unconscious, or dead, I do not know.

Whatever has happened to them, I'm absolutely certain I didn't do it. Someone, or something, else has turned this group of well-armed would-be invaders into fleeing rabble.
The good brethren inside reappear to open the door, and they welcome me inside. We resume our duties as before. The incident is closed. The first time I saw this incident, I realized that the temple itself is essentially pristine. There's not so much as a broken window, or a scratch on the white limestone on the exterior.

It's obvious though, that this isn't the first attempt to enter the temple by outsiders. The fence surrounding the temple is in ruin, having been pushed down from the outside by heavy vehicles of some sort. The snow outside is badly churned up, with the grass underneath having been torn up by what appear by the tracks, to have been heavy equipment of some sort.

Whatever did this, it never touched the temple itself. Whoever wanted in didn't get in. The temple itself is as it has always been.

 

 

  Those of us intentionally left behind evidently do not spend all of our time at the temple. We return to our homes and ward buildings at least occasionally. We appear to move always (or almost always) on foot. Occasionally, I see these visits taking place in the warmer months of the year, but most seen so far occur at times of the year when snow is still evident in some amount.
I often see myself either approaching the temple from the south (the direction of my home), or leaving it heading to the south toward home. The still-spectacular view to the west from the street to my home is impossible to misidentify. This is where It's happening.

As I walk down my street, I see the homes of neighbors, many of whom I've known for decades, lying abandoned. The homes look as if their owners simply walked out the front door, closed and locked it behind them, and walked away.

The signs of vandalism are obvious as many houses and other buildings have broken windows and smashed-in doors. From a few windows, curtains flap in the wind through broken-out windows. My own home seems relatively secure, though it's obvious that vandals have at least attempted to approach it. I can see their tracks in the snow. I have no idea why my home has been spared this destruction, but I'm gratefuI for it.

By now there is a terrible disease evident in the land. People are dying by the thousands, though the shortwave radio stations still broadcasting try to convince the people that the death toll is much smaller than it actually is. People are being reassured that the disease, whatever it is, will soon by controlled by
scientists working in some undisclosed location.

My own training in medical biology makes the fact that these broadcasts are lies obvious.
The disease kills quickly, and is no respecter of age, gender, or ethnic extraction. Infected persons fall ill with influenza-like symptoms, quickly sicken, and die within as little as a few hours, or as much as a few days. Antibiotics are of no help against this malady. The disease bears all the sinister earmarks of a virus, though it behaves in ways that no virus I'm familiar with does.

For whatever reason, those of us left behind seem unaffected by the disease, though we encounter infected corpses on a daily basis, and occasionally encounter people barricaded into their homes, who are suffering and dying from it. Food, it appears, can stave off death for a time; but eventually all who are infected die.
The disease, I learn, is occasionally seen in the encampments of the Saints, though it kills only a few, sparing even those who are in close contact with patients as they care for the sick.

By now it is dangerous to move about outdoors at any time and deadly to move about between sunset and sunrise. People trying to hang on in their homes or places of business have learned the hard way not to be caught outside after dark. Roving predators, most of them human, are hunting at night for the unwary.
One must never show a light at night.

 

 

 Those of us who do move about on our assigned errands encounter wildlife more and more frequently as time passes. Wild things are moving out of the surrounding hills, and returning to their old haunts, though those haunts are now filled with abandoned homes and other buildings. We see deer daily, foraging wherever they can find a bit of green to eat. Raccoons, birds of many kinds, skunks, coyotes, and even an occasional cougar are seen. We can approach them very closely without fear of being attacked, and without their fleeing at the sight of us. I do not know why.

Sadly, we encounter many domestic dogs, abandoned to their fate by those who have gone. Many are obviously skeletal with hunger, and desperate for food and human contact. Those of us left behind are somehow able to approach them without their running in fear from us, and without being attacked ourselves. It seems that if we lead them back to the temple, somehow they can melt into the surrounding hills and regain their strength. As we work in the temple at night, we can sometimes hear them howling, or see them as we watch from the windows or the rooftop, seemingly "patrolling" the area. They alert us to approaching humans by barking, and we're grateful. They are awake when we are
not.

Perhaps this is why the pioneer families often kept their dogs with them. They serve as living alarm systems for intruders.

On many occasions, I find myself having to move around at night on foot. Usually, I am alone; but occasionally one or two other brethren accompany me. We are usually either heading home, or heading out to forage for ourselves. Why we choose to move at night on these errands when moving outside at night is so dangerous, is unclear. We each carry a backpack with a day or two worth of food and water, a sleeping bag and other basic gear, and some sort of optical aid such as a pair of binoculars. We each have with us a source of light, though I'm not certain if this is a flashlight. We never seem to lack for light when we need it, though I never remember seeing any of us using a flashlight or lantern.

Even a trip home, a distance of just over three miles, warrants carrying full gear. In winter, I find myself using a shoulder-height walking stick to struggle along through the snow on the unplowed roads and paths. The stick was given to me many years ago by an old friend, now long on other side of the veil. It brings back fond memories of a fine man, now safely among the "dead" on the other side.

We who are left behind are somehow cared for, though I've seen a number of errands where I/we are foraging for food in abandoned homes. One incident that comes strongly to mind is my finding a large, unopened bottle of peanut butter. I stow it in my pack with regret that I cannot pay for it somehow, or thank its former owner. It goes back with me to the temple, where I presume we consume it together overtime. We must have enough, but just barely enough to keep us going.

On quite a number of occasions on my errands (whether in daylight or in darkness) I encounter two legged predators, armed to the teeth and very dangerous indeed.

Again, there is a disconnect here. As a broken man, I would be an easy target for any of these ruffians. They should rob or kill me at every encounter, but don't seem to get the chance.
For whatever reason, I see them fleeing from me. I have no idea who or what is protecting me. Evidently my would-be attackers do see something. They run as if being pursued by something or someone very dangerous. I never see who or what my protector or protectors are.

Life in the camps becomes routine, and the invaders, some of whom are in gray uniforms, others in khaki or camo gear, don't seem to be able to see the encampments, even when they pass close by. Their air support, mostly helicopters, seems equally unable to detect the righteousness.
The camps and their thousands of righteous occupants hide literally in plain sight. My dreams have yet to show me the resolution of these situations. The story is ongoing. I will amend this document as more information becomes available. For now, on the evening of December 31, 2007, I'II close this account.