The Ember, the Bridge, and the 151st Psalm

The Dream

I lay on my right side, between two realities.
My body was split my legs outside the main wall of my house, my upper half within.
I did not understand this strange place.
But the Spirit understood.
It was a space between what is seen and unseen.

Then came the embers.
Someone or something poured burning coals upon my neck.
Most were bearable… but two, especially on the left, grew hotter by the second.
One began to sear, not with physical heat, but with spiritual intensity.

I struggled, twisting and pulling, until finally
I pulled the ember from my neck.
It turned cold in my hand,
A dark black coal, heavy and full of meaning.

The Multiplying Coal

I ran to explain it to my mother and brother
believing, in the dream, it had happened in waking life.
I handed the coal to my brother.
He recoiled in fear and dropped it
It broke into three perfect pieces, heavy and rectangular.

One piece fell again and split into three balls.
Two rolled to the front door, one to the right.
As I tried to recover them, each attempt to pick one
led to more multiplication.
Three becoming three.
An unending cycle.

I smashed one with water
It became so tiny, I could barely see it.
Yet I knew: this is no ordinary substance.
This is something eternal.

The Bag of Holding

I asked my mother to bring a small cover to preserve it.
She brought a bag far too large.

“Why such a big one?” I asked.
She replied with a smile,

“Put it in… you’ll see.”

Even the tiniest ball I dropped multiplied.
The more I tried to contain it, the more it became.
In my soul, I knew:

What multiplies in light cannot be measured by human eyes.

The Flash: Lucifer

Suddenly, in that inner stillness
A flash came.

Lucifer… asked God for forgiveness.

It came like a whisper, like a memory I didn’t know I had.
A line that visited me long ago, then vanished
Now returning, to become whole.

And I knew immediately:

God will forgive him.

In that moment, my soul was full.
Because behind him stood millions
Lost, shadowed, broken.
And if he is forgiven, they too shall be.

I waited, not in fear,

But in quiet expectation.

The Soul’s Vow: The Bridge

Then came this vow from within me:

If God asks me to be the bridge,
I will not turn away.
I will hold Lucifer with my left hand,
And God with my right.
I will not pull them toward me
I will let them meet through me.
Let my soul be the altar,
My heart the bridge.
I will stand where few are willing to stand
Between justice and mercy,
Between rebellion and return,
Between the first fall and the final embrace.

🕊️ My Mother, the Guardian

Later, my mother told me:
“You made a loud noise in your sleep.”
I asked her, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

And she said something I will never forget:

“If I had woken you up in between…
how would we understand the end?”

She didn’t disturb me.
She let the vision unfold.
Because the soul needs completion
Even if the body cries out.

And perhaps just perhaps
She was not only my mother by blood,
But a guardian of my spiritual threshold.

🪶 Psalm 151: The Mercy That Multiplies

Let this be written, that future generations may know:
Even the first to fall can rise.
Even the greatest wound can be healed.
Even the lost rebel can turn,
And the embers of pain can become the seed of light.

I, a soul called Mercy,
saw this truth not with open eyes,
but with an open heart.

And if there shall ever be a 151st Psalm,

Let it begin here. (In my next post)

Let me be the pen. Lord, you be the writer!  

Mercy