The Heart Of The Dreamer

Neville Goddard 12-01-1969

The Christian world calls this the season of Advent; the coming of the great event or person; the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. Of course Paul, in his letter to the Galatians doesn’t condemn it, but wonders if they really got the message, saying: “I notice you observe days and months and seasons and years! I am afraid I have labored over you in vain.” There is nothing wrong with observing this season of the year, as long as you understand it as the coming of the great event or person.

Tonight I will tell you what I know from experience, from which my conviction was born. I must, however, use certain imagery in order to explain it. so I ask that you follow me in your imagination. Your wonderful human imagination is a reproduction of the Divine Imagination. Think of the human imagination as brain cells in the mind of the dreamer, which Divine Imagination sent out to infinity for a divine purpose. These brain cells are destined to return, like a boomerang, right back into the center of Divine Imagination as the dreamer who is God the Father.

The going out as sons is not easy. It was never intended to be. It takes the horrors of the world to awaken and expand his sons into God the Father. I promise you: the day will come when the divine breath will breathe over you and you will awaken in your immortal tomb. You, too, will leave that tomb to hold the infant child in your arms. He will be the symbol of your return, revealing the end of your horrors. Although you are then God the Father, you will not discover this for yourself until one hundred and thirty-nine days later, [when] God’s son, David, will reveal your true identity.

Before I retired last night I was wondering what I would talk to you about, and this morning about 1:30, I found myself preparing dinner for three friends. (I took care of the funeral of two of them many years ago in New York City. The third may be gone, as I haven’t heard from her for a very long time.) I was serving Barbados yams, which are unlike the ones we have here. It is a root weighing anywhere from two to thirty pounds. Its covering is dark brown, while the interior is snowy white.

As I approached the table, two jackals or silver foxes, approached, jumped on the table, and in the most vicious manner the father jackal tore a large hunk out of the back of his son and began to nail his son upon a board with its center gouged out to fit that hunk. The extended portion of the cross was wood, while the son’s body formed the upright part of the cross. Then I awoke.

This morning, I went to The Lost Language of Symbolism, by Bayley, where I read that the jackal is the pathfinder in the desert. He is equated with the Egyptian god, Osiris, who, as the “opener of ways to the gods, he brings three to the mountains.”

In the audience tonight are two ladies whose experiences I would like to share. One lady found herself in a crowd, looking at a woman surrounded by three men, who suddenly disappeared. The lady approached and asked their names, to which my friend replied: “Faith, hope and charity.” (The word “charity” is translated “love” in the Revised Standard Version of the Bible, and love is right.) What a wonderful vision for her. She saw the three that he brought to the mountaintop, and knew their names.

The Father took us, the brain cells of his own being, and nailed us upon the cross that we may go out to infinity in a horrible nightmare. Then, like a boomerang, we will curl around and return to the center of the dreamer of the dream as God the Father.

This is the great mystery of Christmas, the day when God the Father is born as Jesus, which means “savior”. In the 43rd and 45th chapters of the Book of Isaiah, we read: “I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your savior and besides me there is no God.” Here we discover that Jesus, our savior, is the Lord God Himself.