Sharing Time
Reva Lachica Moore
The Experiment
I was a college freshman and was getting ready for a practical exam in Chemistry. We were being tested on a project that we had done earlier in the school year.
I was looking for my notes but could not find them. I was getting worried because I had only 5 minutes to study and memorize chemical reactions, and my notes were missing! But then I noticed a young man with blonde hair and a European accent, and my missing notes and research papers were in his hands.
“Excuse me, but those are my notes,” I told him.
I remember doing the experiment months earlier and had used “cut-out” pictures of people. In my research papers, I had written the names of the original young people who did the same experiment somewhere in another country. The young man handed me my notes. I looked at the pictures of the original students who did the experiment and I recognized one of the faces as that of the young man with the blonde hair.
“Is this you in the experiment?” I asked the young man.
“Yes, that’s me,” he answered.
“Is this your experiment?” he asked pointing to my cut-out pictures of my make-believe experiment.
I nodded, but he did not seem impressed on what I have done.
The young man insisted that he hang on to my papers because it was important to him. After writing down the chemical reactions, I told him he could have them. Later, my teacher showed up after the young man had left the room. I mentioned to my teacher about seeing the young man who was in the original experiment, and that he was here in our school! My teacher suddenly had a worried look. I did not understand the reason at the time.
We then had to take our practical exam. We were shown set-ups of the experiment in the adjacent rooms. I was not ready and found it hard to come up with answers. The last two rooms with the set-ups were very upsetting. I saw a little girl used in the experiment and she seemed very uncomfortable.
The last room I saw had a set up so horrible to watch. On the floor, hay was strewn all over with hardly an inch of the floor showing. On it lay the young man with the blonde hair whom I had seen earlier. It was a gruesome sight. He looked drugged up and was shaking uncontrollably. His mouth was frothy, his hair was a mess and he did not have any clothes on. He was bleeding severely from his thighs down to his ankles. It looked like his skin was shaved off and all I could see was raw, bloody flesh. The horrible look on his face depicted the pain he was going through, yet he was helpless and couldn’t do anything about it. I so badly wanted to touch him and get him out of his misery. The other students watching were horrified, yet some of them were laughing at the awful sight. The view I saw looked like I was watching a giant screen as in a movie, yet it looked so real; I could touch it. I cried as I watched the young man in pain.
“How did he get in this situation? Why are they doing this to him?” I was asking so many questions so loudly; my teacher got upset.
“Get him out of here, please! You’ve got to stop the experiment!” I screamed.
“He volunteered for the experiment, now he has to suffer,” my teacher said.
“But did he know what he was gonna go through before this?” I was still screaming.
“No, he didn’t know, but he volunteered. He wanted to make some extra money. He has to suffer,” she added.
The sight was too horrible to watch; I left the room.
A few minutes later, I saw the two young people used in the experiment come out of the room. They looked normal then. They looked relieved that the ordeal was over, and they wanted to go home.
THEN MY ALARM WENT OFF AND I WOKE UP.
On my way to work this morning, I was still quite upset because of that horrible dream. I felt the pain, the humiliation, and the unfriendliness of the crowd – that the young man had endured. Then it hit me! Jesus was telling me in my dream what He went through in a way that I could understand. I suddenly realized that I talk to people about getting ready for heaven. What a wonderful place it will be and that they should not want to be left here on earth to see the dead bodies after the wrath of God is poured. Yet, I have never, not even once, mentioned how Jesus died for mankind, for me, so I can go to heaven. I have failed to tell people about the shame and agony that Jesus went through. I failed to understand His actual suffering on the cross. And His dying on the cross was NOT an EXPERIMENT! Yes, I have read about it many, many times, yet I never really felt Jesus’ suffering for me, and I am so ashamed. I asked Him to forgive me and I promised I will paint a gruesome picture of how He died for our sins from now on.
Lord, Jesus, I hope You can forgive me. I couldn’t help but cry as I typed this dream.
John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”
(Written on March 14, 1993) I worked alone in a chemical lab at night. There was no computer yet at that time, so I typed up my dreams in an electrical typewriter after I was finished with my lab work. I had 2 to 3 dreams every day. Dreams that taught me spiritual lessons. I just found a dozen that I had typed up. The dreams became more and more, 5 to 6 each day, so I wrote them in notebooks. Sadly, my 2 notebooks of dreams were lost in the Flood of 2016. Note: I borrowed the picture from online and put it together with my adobe curtain and labeled for illustration.)