Confessions of a Visionary

I was born into the Age of Miracles. Our technology is miraculous. Our planet is experiencing miraculous changes, though some might call them disastrous instead. My existence itself is a miracle as I nearly died in infancy from unknown causes that turned me blue and unbreathing. Somehow, though, I survived and grew, and began to have visions, of the future. I kept my visions to myself and waited them out as one by one, they have all come true.

When I was eight years old, I was transported, so to speak, from my home to a US Navy ship. It was no longer day, but night time, and I was standing facing a steel, grey-painted wall with a pattern of large rivets upon it, and I could smell a strong burnt oil smell. Then I was back home again and it was day. I knew then that someday I’d be in the Navy and that was the ship I was to be on.

Years later, I’d long forgotten that episode, and had joined the Navy. After Naval school and all that, I was assigned to a ship in drydock in Philadelphia and went aboard at night. While the duty officer went below to locate my bunk, I stood there in the dark, staring at a grey painted steel wall with a rivet pattern, and smelling a burnt oil smell.

Suddenly I was eight years old and home and it was day. Then suddenly I was back on that ship again. I’d flashed back to that vision.

That was just for example. Perhaps a better one for my purpose in writing this is another that I had, 2 years after being discharged from the Navy. I woke one morning with the feeling that something was wrong. The next morning, too, and succeeding mornings thereafter for nearly three months. By that time the sense of something wrong had grown into a powerful awareness of impending doom. I didn’t know yet just why my life was in danger, but I knew it was and I bought a 4-wheel drive jeep and started stocking it with spare parts and survival supplies.

Then one morning as I slept, I saw myself on another similar destroyer to the one I’d served on. I was on the starboard side looking out over the water and I could see jungly land about 8 miles off. Suddenly there was a bright white flash and I was dead.

Then I started talking in my sleep and said that at 11:30 that next Wednesday morning the postman was coming with my orders for re-induction to military service. I was still in the inactive Navy reserves as part of my enlistment. I woke up hearing those words ringing in my mind, and repeated them again aloud.

Next Wednesday morning at 11:30 there was the postman with those orders from the Navy. I refused to accept delivery, told everyone I was going to Alaska, and then drove to Ohio. I got a job getting paid under the table and waited out my final months of inactive reserve time before going back home, where I was told that men in suits had canvassed the neighborhood looking for me. I hope they had a nice time in Alaska.

Some of my visions were pretty inconsequential, and some have saved my life. I’ve had more visions of the future than I can recall, over the years, and every one has happened. Except one. There is one vision that still has not come about, but I feel it getting near.

This one came when I was seven years old. I remember the moment clearly to this day. I was standing in front of our home, facing it. A friend had just left, I could see him walking away. Then it came to me. I would see the end of the world as we know it.

I didn’t know exactly what that meant then and I don’t know now. All I know for sure is that for all the changes that have come around in the 64 years since I had that vision, none of them yet are what the vision referred to. I know that I’ll live to see it, and at the age of 71 now, I guess it can’t be too far off. Especially since that “impending doom” feeling that I had before is starting to slowly grow again. This time though, while I think it means the end of my existence, it doesn’t worry me.

In the first place, there’s no place to go. There may be safe havens here and there but I don’t know where they are, and the world’s end may not be some sort of climactic disaster anyway. I don’t know. I think I will know before it happens as I’ve always felt too that I would know when my time had come. So why am I giving you this wonderful opportunity to call me a nut case instead of keeping this to myself? Because at my age, why should I care what your opinion is of me, for one, and for two, I think it’s time to say it and be done with it.

If there’s any real message in this or point to this, it would have to be: Get right with yourself now. Get right with those you love. Time really is running out and getting right can be a slow process. So if you care, better get started if you want to get the job done in time.

2 Responses to “Confessions of a Visionary”

  1. The past several months, this household has come to a personal understanding of our own mortality — a little early, perhaps. Mr. AOW is 60, and I am 58.

  2. An honest story, and well-written. The mind is a sponge filled with images and memories, often with pious posturing and all too eager to convey self-importance over substance.

    Like thumbprints, each of us is different. Thank you.

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