God's Truth Not Smooth Words

Vision: A House of Holes

anichurch.gif  A House of Holes

©copyright 2006 Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C.

On that day, 04 January 2005, was the second time in just over a week I’d had this dream. Oh, Lord, make me understand; does it apply to me, or my daughters, or is this for all the people? Show me if the vision is from you, Lord; and, if so, make me understand its convoluted meaning. Or, show me if it is the Destroyer bent on confusion. In Christ’s precious name, I ask this of thee; make me understand. Amen and amen!

It seemed I was in a building of obvious and severe disrepair; in fact, as though it never had been maintained since the day it was built; though I never saw the outside to discern whether it had been a business structure or multiple dwellings. I was at first uncertain whether I was visiting or moving in, for it was implied I had clothes with me. Yet, in the first vision María, my daughter, was with me as I moved from one atrocious room to another, their walls of decaying wood planks revealing chinks of filtered, grayish light.

I finally asked where to put my clothes, for I’d not seen a closet. She showed me a small, smelly wardrobe: which I did not utilize. We continued on through weird twists and turns from one room to another, each seeming worse than the one before.

Each area was bare, damp and filthy, only one housing a bed— one would not want to lie upon its mussed, dingy sheets— floors rolled up and down from one another; sharp delineations not by steps but by ramshackle decay and a foundation that obviously had broken then sank into different levels. I noticed a narrow, short dead-end hall at one end of what seemed a huge, wide hall in which we now stood— on either side of which were rooms. One wall of the short hall held two panel doors painted an unpleasant, deep blue.

“What are those?” I’d asked, thinking the space large enough only for closets or storage of some sort. María opened the first door and smiled as she pointed. The floor was about three feet below its threshold, again no steps down; the semblance of a bathroom in that same shade of blue as the doors. It housed a commode perpetually running and water dripped from the ceiling and a musty, moldy scent overpowered; no shower, sink or tub, for the space was not accommodating.

Her smile widened as María opened the second door to reveal the floor about a foot below us. In sharp contrast, it was pristine, a freshly painted bright white, large medical room with an examining table in its midst. I was aware of other medical paraphernalia but not what kind. When asked, María said it was a project her friend was working on— without stating its purpose. Other than when prompted by my queries, María never spoke.

It was then I realized I was visiting, that this dilapidated building must belong to María and/or her friend, whose name I heard her say yet it did not remain with me. All I could think was what a horrible place this was, unfit for man or beast; best torn down to the ground for the rotted rubble it already had become; and, I wondered why I was even visiting. There also seemed to be no order in the arrangement or size of rooms, a sense of chaos and evil hazily pervading the entire structure, making me think someone had been sold a bill of worthless goods.

In the second vision, nothing had changed nor did I ever see kitchen facilities; except this time, in addition to María, there also were Tammy— my foster daughter from Florida— and another dark-haired woman I didn’t know— perhaps the friend María had mentioned previously— and various men I’d never seen before, each of them tall and rather rough in appearance yet neat in dress; contrarily, I was introduced to no one.

This time, however, it was implied that Princess, my ferret, was with me but in her cage as, once again, we were walking through rooms that had not changed at all. If anything, the filth and stench of mold and decay were worse, as was a sense of pervading chaos.

Standing in what must have been a living room or waiting area at the front entrance, I was made aware that someone had let Princess out of her cage and she was running all over the place. About this time, Tammy opened the front door and went out, leaving it open; despite a quick reminder Princess was loose and in danger. Tammy’s stance indicated a total lack of caring about Princess’ welfare or anyone else’s, for that matter.

I rushed around trying to find Princess, to no avail, María trailing in my wake as though not quite interested in helping. I never actually saw the cage nor saw Princess on the loose. It was as though I’d simply been made aware. And, those men seemed to just get in the way while expressing concern, though it seemed none really cared as they smiled and laughed and strutted around with their hands stuffed in Dockers® pockets— constantly stepping into my hurried path as though to delay me from finding Princess.

Then I discovered a balcony at the other end of that wide hallway, open and absent of hung doors. It slanted so badly I felt as though I were leaning backward in order to prevent pitching forward as I stepped out onto it. The railing was covered with clear plastic on its outer side, the plastic’s lower edge wrapped beneath the decking; as if to keep something in— quite useless, as it were— as opposed to keeping something out.

I heard a noise to my left and looked down in that direction. It appeared Princess was struggling between the plastic and railing adjacent to this deck. Just as I reached to snatch her from there, before she could fall, another brunette woman I’d not seen, until now, whose upper body suddenly emerged leaning over on the adjacent deck— a balcony I could not actually see— and picked up Princess; except, it wasn’t a ferret she came up with; rather, a medium-sized cat of similar color. She ruffled the cat, turned and disappeared, all the while as though I were invisible to her. Yet, I clearly had seen Princess’ tiny face as she clawed to free her self.

I went back inside to continue searching but, very quickly, this vision of a house full of holes ended for a second time. Both times I emerged from this dream, the overall atmosphere of it seemed one of deliberate misleading and lies built upon crumbling lies. I also came away with the prevailing emotion of neither wanting to be anywhere near the structure nor the people involved; even my own daughter, from whom most of the misleading and lies seemed to be emanating, the others present only there as supporting her efforts. (See poem, Rotted Wood, Mold and Poison, for the Spirit’s interpretation)


Rotted Wood, Mold and Poison

©copyright 2006 Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C.  

The vision panned a large white house, inside decay

and people moving about; each in the wrong way.

The dream left me perplexed; so, others and I prayed

that the Spirit make me understand by God’s say;

for I know the time is short, the end any day.


“That whore and her daughters’ churches are full of holes,

teeming with poison they empty out twice dead souls;

yet outside, each shrine is a beauty to behold,

walls in My Name but man’s laws posted in fools gold,

that the people believe it’s fine to stray as told.


“Inside: pitching, rolling floors, rotted wood, and mold;

chaotic plans with no doors against Satan’s cold,

and pastors spew bitter bile to kill their goats’ souls:

not all of God’s beginning Law spoken as told;

thus, they stand on a cliff’s edge yet see a clear road.


“And, they feed their goats to the fill with rancid meat,

murdering lost souls they send rushing to defeat;

the fetid stench one of rank hearts eager to cheat:

thus, these goats and vile pastors eagles will soon eat,

once Christ takes up His, proving God cannot be beat.


“Expunge that rotting house; rebuild with God’s fine wood;

by His plan level floors, walls, and hinge doors ye should;

then like Christ, eat God’s Word that change ye might and could.

God soon repays with eternal life, if ye would;

but, if ye would not, ye shall perish: as thou should.


“Heed the warning God’s herald brings to thee for light;

circumcise thine heart with My Law as a sharp knife;

accept My Son Christ, that ye might avoid man’s strife;

obey My Doctrine, that thy virtue be seen rife:

then, when My Son comes, ye shall have eternal life.” 


23 August 2006 - Posted by | Armageddon, Bible, Bible Related Articles, Christ, Church, Dreams, End Times, Escatology, Faith, God, Holy Spirit, Jehovah, Poems, Prophecy, Religion, Remnant, Salvation, Spiritual, Visions


  1. Thank you, Mary, for your encouraging words. Indeed, it is sad that so many will not rebuild their temples (body and mind). I hope to see you here again. 🙂

    And, thank you, Shiela, for the visit.

    Much love in Christ,

    Comment by bonnieq | 19 January 2007 | Reply

  2. i have that too!

    Comment by sheila | 19 January 2007 | Reply

  3. What a dream, but what a beautiful, yet sad interpretation. Your writing captivated me…

    I visited your website and went through the red doors :O)…love the sounds of your “rainbow book”, and am so glad you stopped by my blog! I appreciated your advice on writing time and priorities.
    Thank you!

    Comment by Mary | 24 August 2006 | Reply

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