Book of Daniel — The Vision, old and new.
(Another vision from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara)
The books called the “Bible” are not difficult to understand, least of all those who deal with dreams. But so much darkness has been cast upon the words by would-be interpreters, by greedy fools; by writers of bad fiction, but mostly by Religion, that it takes careful re-reading to “get it” if one is looking, say, for information in prophetic writings of long ago. An open-minded person, educated enough and perhaps with a degree of wisdom can get much valuable information from that maligned and misunderstood book.
A case in point: The prophet Daniel lived during the Babylonian Jewish Diaspora, circa 530 BC. During the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, the king had a dream of a majestic statue that had a head of gold, chest and arms of silver, belly and thighs of bronze, legs of iron and feet partly of iron and partly of baked clay.
While he was looking and admiring this colossal statue, “a rock was cut out but not by human hands. It struck the statue on its feet of iron and clay and smashed them. The statue collapsed and was reduced to broken pieces, like chaff and the wind swept them away…”
Daniel (Daniel 2:31) interprets the vision according to his information at the time. The interpretation, except for the last part, is now ancient history. Babylon fell, as did the other empires symbolized by the statue.
The vision remains as a reminder that “history” repeats. There is a new interpretation of this vision, which I will share because I have had a similar vision, but to do with these times, not those of 2500 years ago.
My vision has to do with the corporate world, banking, the military industrial complex, medical and prescription drugs cartels; energy and food empires built on aggressive exploitation of natural resources, including the ubiquitous usage of human slave labour. It speaks of hierarchies and bureaucracies. The head of gold is those who lord it over these powers: dictators of empires, CEO’s and elitist fat cats on the boards of directors: the richest men on this world. Most of the statue’s energy flows up there and there is not enough left to make the entire statue of gold, nor would those at the top allow that!
So must come the next echelon of “leaders” – those who are represented by the chest and arms of silver. These too are rich, and have a greater “reach” than those at the top. The second layer of power: politicians, heads of various military and security state agencies, despots of all kinds in politics, religion, business, “mobs” and families; heads of “charitable” (read tax-free) organizations – all those whose positions depend on those at the top but are autonomous from those below them.
Then come the bureaucracies – the “belly and thighs” of the statue – those entrusted to make it work; to suck the energy from the bottom and move it to the top. The mid-level corporate managers, the bean counters… and those qualified to “have the great ideas” and push corporate fanaticism through advertising, etc. Professionals of all stripes, research and development scientists, teachers, doctors, lawyers and judges, law enforcers, local bank managers, on it goes. Those who must believe and push because they have sold their souls to the upper parts of the machine; because it makes them comfortable, relatively rich and feeling safe.
Finally come the feet of the statue, those who support and feed it: the working class. There is some iron in them, which means they actually believe in the ponderous contraption they laboriously and pointlessly support with their faith, their hopes, their love even… and ultimately, their mindless laboring and ignominious, pointless death.
But it must end, as all things that have grown out of balance; as have all empires in the past. And in the collapse of this monstrosity, most of those who support it must, of course, die with it and their remnants will be swept away by “the rock cut out, but not by human hands.”
In my vision the “rock” is nature turning against man in a final showdown in which only the planet can win.
There was more to my vision: I saw beyond the pollution storm of environmental destruction; beyond spiritual corruption and mental bankruptcy.
I saw what remained beyond civilization’s collapse; what had survived in underground testing labs; what was dead to feelings and could never understand empathy: I saw the rise of the Cyborgs. Human machines gradually taking over because they needed so little “natural” energy to operate on. They could live in a poisoned environment. They could reproduce themselves, repair themselves and even evolve through trial and error processes using old and new technology and what they had absorbed from brief interactions with non-earth people who had shown up during the catastrophic destruction (The ancient “creators” from planet X, Nibiru, perhaps? It wasn’t clear who these interlopers had been, just that they had made a brief appearance and made a quick exit.)
These Cyborgs, I saw, were determined to hunt down and kill the last surviving “true” humans on this world for they sensed them as dangerous competitors. Well, not surprising. They had, after all, the “memories” of the pre-Cyborg human race. A necessary part of their awareness, their programming. They understood that if the humans survived, the many battles would go to the Cyborgs but the final war would be won by the surviving humans… and history repeats itself!
Oh well, hints of “Terminator” and other sci-fi stories and movies. But in these confused times where nothing, anything or everything can be believed, or believed “in”… who’s to say what is fiction, what is prophecy?
I would not offer my dreams and visions as prophecies — just some food for thought. Something to help us “slow down” and do a bit of thinking outside the box. Nor is this about taking a stand for survival: there is no surviving earth. This world has evolved itself as a treadmill; an exercise machine for Earthians. When our time’s up we have to take off our sweaty exercise stuff, shower and dress appropriately for “out there” and exit the “club”…
“And what’s “appropriate”? someone might ask.
Depends on what’s “out there” for you. Think: why have you done all that exercising all those years? What was your purpose?
“To live a life, I suppose” would be one answer. “I really have no idea” would probably be the most common reply.
“How could anyone possibly know what’s out there?” someone else may add.
All they’d get for answer to that is a smile and a reminder that it’s all on their destination ticket.
“I don’t have a destination ticket” another may challenge.
The answer to that is, that’s not a choice. Everyone has a destination ticket. All are born with it and it’s a part of one’s entire life. Perhaps now would be a good idea to locate it and read the fine print. Who knows but what one’s life lived without due care and attention may have caused to be written on the “admission” side of the ticket?