When I was 11 years old I started a journal for some odd reason. My first entry was January 1, 1988. Not too many months later, after I had turned 12, I wrote a peculiar entry that records a dream I still remember quite vividly. With today being the Feast of the Synaxis of the Archangel Michael and All the Bodiless Angelic Hosts, I thought it would be timely (or at least entertaining) to post it. Keep in mind two things when reading: first, I was just a 12-year-old punk kid when I wrote this, so it is not very eloquent; second, I never really payed attention to my dreams so this is not common of me.
October 27, 1988 Thursday (11:31 AM)
I woke up at 5:00 AM this morning because I had a suspicious dream. The dream was about an angel and I was a bad guy. The angel was outside my bedroom window and I was looking at him from behind with my sharp teeth. In the background was this music that went "hoooo"! It was scary. The angel's arm was half way up with his palm up looking in the sky and then the angel turned around. The angel had blonde hair and a white robe. It looked at me for a second and I woke up. I read my book report at 5:00 AM. Could it have been a sign from God? Don't know.
This was one of my first "spiritual" experiences that I'm grateful to have recorded, though in some parts I have no idea what I'm talking about. Basically, from what I remember, in the dream I was in my bed and saw a bright angel at my second-floor bedroom window almost as tall as my house looking at me, though I felt like a bad guy and had sharp teeth to show it. In the background was the most beautiful music I had ever heard and have still yet to hear, that sounded like an angelic choir. When the angel and I locked eyes, he swiftly backed away from the house, swiftly turned around, looked up into heaven, and ascended.
I hesitate to call this "spiritual", since it was just a dream to me and I tend to be very skeptical of my own experiences. It made a minor impression on me though at the time, and if I were ever to believe something divine about it, it would be that beautiful music which I have a hard time believing was created in my imagination. I didn't give it much thought until a few years later when I was speaking with my late pious grandmother in Greece, and she was lamenting the fact that she had have never been granted by God to hear in her lifetime the beautiful singing voices of angelic choirs. I don't think I ever told her about my experience due to my skepticism, but after she said that I began to wonder once again: "Could it have been a sign from God? Don't know."