The Fountain
I was standing in what I understood to be a holy city. In this city there was a square and the square was paved with huge stones in rectangular form. They were larger than me.
In the middle of the square was a great fountain, that resembled a bird bath with three levels stacked upon each other. When the top level water flowed over into the middle level, and the middle level flowed over into the bottom level which from there flowed over into a place underneath.
As I approached the fountain and walked around it, there was a toddler in a white suit which looked like Pastor Benny Hinn. He was pacing back and forth on the bottom level of the fountain as if he were frustrated, waiting upon someone, as if he had been left or separated from his parents. I had the same feeling I have when my youngest daughter, who is two, is frustrated and cries out. My approach was no different, I moved closer offering comforting words of knowledge, a solution and was pushed away in frustration as if there was another solution he was looking for. Understanding I needed to be firm, I pressed again offering love and compassion and reached to pick him up, only for him to cry out and walk away in frustration. Then I just grabbed him with both arms and legs flailing I held tight and reassured that it was going to be alright, everything is under control.
