The Guardian

This is a dream my dad recently had, I think it is amazing, inspiring and thought-provoking. -Sazaran





Dreams are sometimes little more than an overdose of last night’s pizza. Some are entertaining and some can be quite meaningful. Like anyone, I’ve had both. But there is one dream I often reflect upon. It had to do with angels.

There’s no transition to this setting; nothing I can remember that led up to the context of what I am about to relate. All I remember is staring at this open of very tall wheat that was in front of me. Suddenly a vanguard of angels appeared to me. Here is one interesting part of the dream. They slowly materialized into a tangible form much like the camera work on Star Trek after Scotty beams someone on board the spaceship.

As they materialized, what stood before me was about ten or twelve massive angels dressed in contemporary clothing. I could tell by their physique that they were incredibly strong with chiseled cut lines outlining their muscles. Here’s another impressive feature: they looked to be about seventeen to twenty feet tall.

One of the angels, the one that seemed to be at the point of all them, looked at me and I looked at him. He didn’t smile but seemed to carry a noticeable gravity about him, a no-nonsense type of persona. Now don’t laugh when I state this: he was wearing bib overalls with no shirt underneath, and sandals. He had blondish-tan hair that was cut in the fashion of flat-top and short on the sides and looked like he had spent a lot of time on the beaches of sunny California.

I looked at him and asked, “Are you my guardian angel?”

He stood there with his arms crossed at his chest in a gladiator-like demeanor and simply said, “Yes.”

Then I asked, “What is your name?”

“Snickey,” he said without any hesitation.

“Snickey!” I replied. The name didn’t seem to fit what I was looking at. It was would be like Goliath having the name of “Petunia” and challenging war-seasoned soldiers into a hand-to-hand combat. I thought to myself that my guardian angel should a name like Globatron, or Megathor, or Titan, or something that denoted massive power and strength. But looking at this colossal angel that stood as tall as a power-pole—well the name “Snickey” just didn’t fit.

Still caught in the bewilderment of his rather non-intimidating name I again said, “Snickey!”

With that he leaned forward to a height about five feet above me. I looked up and he looked into my eyes and spoke. I remember that the very movement of this gigantic person conveyed such power and strength that it seemed like nothing was his equal. His voice conveyed unmistakable confidence. The tone and volume wasn’t thundering or booming, but it was deep and strong.
“It means one to be feared.”

“Oh.” I regressed with a step back, nodded in agreement, and immediately added the definition to the vocabulary.

“Then I can call on you when I’m in trouble, right?”

“No”, he said. “You have to call on Jesus. We only take commands from Him, the Captain of the Hosts.”

With that, the dream ended.