Dream – October 22, 2022

I was in a different state, not Arizona, where I reside. It looked like it could either be the East Coast of the United States—possibly Washington, D.C. or Maryland—or the Northwest Coast. In the dream, I was there teaching when I suddenly began to hear an alarm.

It wasn’t a normal siren, like the kind you hear during a tornado or other natural disaster. This alarm was the sound of a shofar. As a believer, I recognized it immediately. I kept hearing the shofar sounding off, and I said, “We are in danger. We need to take cover.”

I found myself in a two-story school. For some reason, the classrooms had closets—not storage closets, but the kind you’d find in a house. I went into one of these closets with some little girls I found in the hallway.

While we were hiding, bombs began going off. They weren’t hitting the building directly, but they were close—close enough to make the building shake and vibrate. The sound was deafening, which meant the bombs were likely only a few miles away.

As the bombing continued, the parents of the children—except for two of the girls—arrived and took their kids. The two little girls who stayed with me were curious and wanted to look out the window, but I made them stay hidden in the closet. I told them, “They’re bombing from far away, and they’re only hitting where they see movement. If we stay still and they don’t see us, we’ll be okay.”

They listened. After several hours, things quieted down. I felt it was safe to approach the window.

When I looked outside, I saw a massive conveyor belt stretching for miles. It looked like something you would see in a manufacturing plant, post office, or shipping facility—huge and industrial. On the conveyor belt were food and supplies, the kind needed after a bombing—medical aid, food, and other essentials. The items were stamped with labels in many different languages, showing they had come from all over the world.

I became emotional. I said, “Look at that. We’ve been there for so many in their times of trouble, and now they’re helping us.” I could tell this was foreign aid coming in to help.

I saw many people outside, so I decided to leave with the two little girls. Eventually, I found their mothers and returned the children to them.

Now alone, I looked around and saw many people I knew. Strangely, every single one of them was an unbeliever—people who did not serve the Lord. They all had a look of shock, not because they were denying what was happening, but because they had never believed something like this could happen in America.

The mothers of the two little girls stood in line to receive aid, and I stood with them. I was prompted to look up, and it was as if I could see over and through the crowd.

In the distance, I saw a small army—about 200 troops. They were dressed in World War II–era German uniforms, like Nazi soldiers, but they were Russian.

Behind them was a World War II–era convertible, and in it was Russian President Vladimir Putin. He was dressed like Hitler, raising his hand in a Nazi salute. When I saw this, I said, “Oh my gosh, this isn’t over. The enemy is here.”

I yelled to warn everyone, but it was as though they couldn’t hear me—or maybe they were ignoring me. Everyone stayed focused on gathering as many supplies as they could from the conveyor belt.

I turned and began running back toward the school. I had to cross an entire town square to get there. As I ran through the crowds, I wasn’t just speaking in tongues—I was yelling in tongues. It was as if that yelling propelled me forward, giving me supernatural speed and strength.

I reached the school and hid in the same closet. Then I heard the bombs again—boom, boom, boom.

The mothers of the little girls came into the closet, pleading with me, “You have to help us find our daughters!”

I told them, “We can’t go out right now. If you go out now, you’ll be killed. If your daughters are alive and safe, and you’re killed, they’ll be left orphans. We have to wait until it’s over.”

The bombs grew closer and closer. I felt an urgency to relocate to another building. One of the women suggested we go to her house. She said it was nearby and that we could get there without being seen.

We went to her house, which was a mansion. Strangely, it looked exactly like the White House, only smaller. The grounds had large green lawns like the real White House, but it was not in Washington, D.C.

When she walked into her bedroom, she found her husband—who was the head of the household—being unfaithful with another woman. She caught them in the act.

She was shocked and said, “Oh my God, he is not who I thought he was.”

The man knew the nation was under attack. Even from this distance, you could hear the bombs, feel the ground shake, and see the destruction out the window. Yet he didn’t care. He wasn’t moved by his wife catching him, nor by the devastation around him. He continued in his unfaithfulness.

Shortly after, the attacks stopped. But the city was completely destroyed—so destroyed it would take decades to rebuild.

After that, I heard the Lord say If my people don’t pray and repent, if America doesn’t pray and repent, this attack is imminent. And I woke up.