Revolution

I watched the dark-haired man with the matted dreadlocks. Waving a bright red banner reading ‘viva la revolution.’ As the screaming started a sharp needling pain went through my side.

Waking with a jump, I became aware that Paul was thrashing around in his sleep.  This was new, I’ve never woken up in the middle of a premonition. What was going on with Paul? Should I wake him? Deciding to let him sleep, I shuffled out of bed.

Standing in the kitchen waiting for the microwave to ping, my thoughts were on hot chocolate.  The next mission was far from my mind. Minutes later I was stirring my drink, comforted by the chink of the spoon against ceramic.

Savouring the sweet warm liquid, I jumped as the silence was filled by a scream. Placing my mug on the worktop, my chair fell to the floor as I scraped it back.  With sweat pouring off me, my stomach ached as I ran up the stairs two at a time.

Reaching Betsy’s room, I could hear Paul, through sobs her words grounded me.

“He shot mummy”.

Remembering the sharp jab in my side before I woke,  I listened to Paul’s calm reassurance. From the tone of his voice, calm concern, I know that things are bigger than us.

Mrs Zintalis shop

As her calm smile vanished, she began to stammer,

“I think we need tea, surely this can’t happen? Not a child.”

“Mrs Zintalis, this happened and Betsy saw me killed, how can I stop these people? Stop the revolution?”

As she hovered making a fuss with the tea pot, Paul took my hand.

“The night she had her dream I woke after feeling a needle like pain go through me.”

“Love, did you die?”

I thought about it,

“I heard screaming, saw the revolution banner, felt the pain and woke up.  To be honest I thought Paul kicked me in his sleep.”

What to do now?

I squeezed Paul’s hand, I need him here with me and I don’t want to die.

“So, what does this mean? What should I be doing?”

Pouring the tea, the old woman answered.

“You have to do this, every dream means something and you must follow.”

Paul, spoke now,

“Even if she dies?”

“All we know love is that she’s shot, we don’t know if she dies.”

My mind was racing.  I thought of the pain in my side.

“I need a vest, like what the police use, Paul what ‘s it called?”

“A Kevlar vest.”

Mrs Zintalis spat out her tea.

“A few days ago a man brought in a police vest, he said it would be needed”.

Coincidences don’t happen often but my world is now full of them.

The vest

“Surely, if I wear the vest, I can help the revolutionaries and prevent whatever goes wrong.”

“You must be careful love, but yes it does seem that way.”

As she passed it to me, I felt chills and remembered the dream again. This was happening any night soon.

“Thank you Mrs Zintalis, we just need to work out how to stop the revolution”.

 

Two days later

Drinking coffee while reading my usual social media account, I found our answer. Viva la Revolution, meeting tonight in the town centre.   This was it, me and the Kevlar vest would be performing in just hours.

Telling Paul, I would see him later and hugging Betsy I didn’t want them to worry.  Vest hidden in the boot, I started the engine and started on my mission.   I rarely know what disaster I have stopped and tonight I can’t stop shaking.

 

The revolution

Pulling into a parking space I could hear the excited shouting. Bracing myself against the cold, the premonition played again and I thought of Betsy.   Having premonitions scared me, it’s not fair that they are now affecting my little girl.  Her first one seeing me shot was cruel, why would a loving God use her or maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake up when I did.

As the crowds gather, I look for the shooter, seeing the police nearby I wonder again why I’m here.  The crowds start to chant loudly, “viva la revolution”, a small child catches my eye and she is dragging a toddler behind her.  As a shot fills the air I begin to realise my purpose, why I needed to be here right now.  Feeling the vibration and needling pain I fall to the floor.

I’ve never been shot before, and I can hear the police radios.  Who are the children?  Why are they here?  And surely the police are going to question the vest that has just saved my life. Too many questions, but I seem to be the only one who could have been hurt here.  Working out who the shooter is, I know is a job for the police and this is just another day in my life of helping change.

For more see, part one – A charm bracelet and a strange shop

Part two – Blank slates and spiritual interventions

Written for Blog Battle – Revolution