The Gathering of the Eagles
THE STORY OF MENNO PAULS
THE STORY OF MENNO PAULS
PART ONE : Chapter One
THE LITTLEST HOBO
THE LITTLEST HOBO
I got the complete first part right away, then the last part of it, then the middle parts just flowed in over the following couple of days.
In one instance, a waitress came up to me in the restaurant, and out of the blue says, "Why don't you write something on patience." Right out of the blue. But as soon as she said it... bang!... there it was, complete.
After I let it sit for a while, I published it myself with the help of a few friends. We hand bound the copies and all. Over the years since, it has been requested by and sent to most English departments in universities across Canada. It's in the B.C. (British Columbia) Archives and so on. But of the 700 (copies) we've put out, I haven't sold a single copy. I just had to give them away. After all, it was given to me.
In 1975, I had three visions. I saw what was going to happen in the future. I also saw that these visions were tied in with these strange encounters I'd been having and the strange thoughts and inspirations that had been coming to me. It was as if someone had been trying to get through to me from another dimension.
In the first vision, I was standing in the mountains on a grassy slope. Nearby was a powerful being, sitting just off to my left. He was beaming a ray at me which tranquillized me so I wouldn't be frightened at what I was seeing. And what I was seeing was incredible.
I saw a mountain coming unglued. It was crumbling and the big rocks were just coming down like a waterfall. And as they fell, they turned into houses, buses, and other types of vehicles, all containing people. They were being crushed as they came down. I saw the people in anguish before they were crushed and killed.
The spirit guide who was off to my left interrupted my thoughts then with a command. "No! Don't look at that, look over here!". And out of this holocaust were tumbling some people. They were landing on the grassy slopes of the mountains unhurt. They were being thrown clear. I couldn't identify any of them, they were just people. Then the spirit said, "That's what you have to see. You will see that and you will see those people living."
Here I was, surrounded by mountains, all of them intact except for the one directly in front of me which was breaking up. And I was being shown that people would land on these green grassy slopes and be alright.
Right after that I had a second vision which showed another aspect of this whole thing where there were groupings of people. Some of them were already in place, and others were moving to B.C. from all over the globe. They were being drawn, consciously and unconsciously, to safe areas or pockets of protection in British Columbia. That was in 1975.
At the beginning of 1976, my next encounter with a guide occurred. The older chap, the one who'd appeared to me first in the restaurant, appeared to me one night in a dream. He had me by the shoulders, he shook me, and asked me three questions.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Well, I'm Menno Pauls, window cleaner," I replied. He didn't like that answer. He shook me again and asked, "What are you doing?" And I told him I was cleaning windows. He didn't like that answer either. He shook me again and said, "You should know by now who you are and what you're doing; or what you're supposed to be doing." Then he asked, "Where are you going?" And he answered that one.
All of a sudden I was in a valley on an old farm, an old homestead. There was a barn on one part of it, and behind me, an old farm house. We were standing in a field of green crops of some sort. Maybe alfalfa, I don't know, but it was really green.
That was the last thing I saw and then `poof'. Everything disappeared. Then it dawned on me. "With everything that's been happening here," I thought "from 1971 to 1976, you should start to get the drift of what your role is, and what you're doing."
After that I started getting directions almost in the form of commands. They'd say, "Go and talk to so and so".
The first contact I made was with a couple who lived on a farm near Handy, up in the Fraser Valley. We had known them for maybe five or six years; they were very unique people. Only now did I realize why we were acquainted. When I went to see them, I knew exactly what to tell them.
"You know," I said, "one day you're going to come to in a green kind of a setting, a valley and mountain area. When that happens," I told them, "something awful will have happened in the world, but no harm will come to you. You'll be alright. It'll be very strange. I'm telling you now so you'll have a chance to think about it, let it soak in, so you can cope with what's going to happen, and help others who will be there, but without the benefit of knowing why."
Message delivered and accepted. I was on my way. Now the real work had begun.