The Words of the Loew Family
My dream, 1968:
I was at the lookout point on Mt. Tantalus, which rises up from the edge of Honolulu. Ten to twenty people gathered there each day to watch the sunset. The view was exciting. Below was the majesty of a modern city, surrounded by an amazingly beautiful tropical jungle. The horizon was creating an even more amazing and unique sunset. This was a chance to relax after a hard day's work pouring tons of wet cement.
Suddenly, without warning, I had a terrifying premonition. I "saw" what no one else around me seemed to see. The surf of Waikiki Beach receded from the shoreline, leaving miles of ocean bottom as far as the eye could see, until there was only a glimmering narrow strip of ocean blue way out where the sun was beginning to warm the horizon. Everything stopped -- the wind, my breathing, my heart. I knew that I was being warned of what was about to become one of the most destructive tidal waves in human history! I knew this wave would soon come rushing toward the shore with the force of the entire ocean pushing it forward. It would not stop at the shoreline, but would meticulously grind forward, devouring everything in its path, destroying hundreds of years of human history that had been born and developed on this side of the island of Oahu. Even halfway up Mt. Tantalus would not be safe.
I could hear the voices of others nearby. These people were not the least disturbed by the scene; they could see nothing unusual. They commented on the perfect weather, the beautiful ocean, and the surfers who looked like dots in the distance. It seemed that only I could see the impending disaster about to engulf us all. Somehow, I was being warned before the storm. Time would be short. Who would believe me? No one, of course.
Wait! My fellow construction laborers. We worked together every day, surfed together, and trusted each other. Maybe, if I traveled as fast as I could, at least someone might follow me to higher ground and be saved.
Several miles later, at the top of King Street near the University of Hawaii, my three "construction" roommates were startled by the high-speed slam of the wooden screen door and my obviously excited presence. "What is wrong with you!?" they asked simultaneously. Hardly able to breathe, I desperately stammered, "We have to run for our lives right now.
There is a tidal wave coming, and we've got to reach the highest place quickly! Trust me!" Of course, they thought a hard, long day in the sun might have overcooked my mind a bit. Or was I just kidding? Emotionally disturbed? And how did I know? Were there any news reports?
Six months earlier at the same time, we had arrived at the landlord's office, all trying to rent the same cabin. We decided to share the place. It was big enough, and we got along like brothers.
Unfortunately, our brotherhood was not enough to sway them. Mark was studying for a civil service exam. Brian was to start a new part-time job that night. Bob was my only hope. He was my closest friend. We had discussed ideas from the Old Testament together while also studying different religions. We both had had identical dreams that afterwards became reality. Surely he would understand my "warning." I literally begged Bob, "Please Bob, trust me. Even if you think I am completely crazy, please go with me, just to humor me, just because I am asking you as my best friend. If I am wrong about this, then I will make it up to you many times over!" "I am sorry," Bob answered.
"We are good friends for sure, but I just do not think it is a good idea. I'm sure that tomorrow you will be happy that I said, "no today."
Time was up. I ran for my life to the mountains. On the island of Oahu, the mountains come closer to shore than most mainland mountain ranges. Soon I was climbing a steep mountainside, thick with all kinds of huge tropical plants that covered a rough terrain full of sharp stones. The thick vegetation, some of it sharp with thorns and broken branches, tore at my clothes, and eventually my skin. Before long I was a bare-footed, two-legged mass of bloody rags in motion!
But I felt neither pain nor doubt. Stopping, or even pausing, meant certain death. My extreme fatigue was overcome by my overwhelming desperation to reach the top of the mountain.
A cool darkness gradually descended as the sun sank deeper and deeper below the horizon, a horizon upon which I did not even dare to turn and look. The earth was beginning a very gentle trembling. I knew the sea would soon begin to recede from the shore. The tropical forest was becoming an evergreen forest of young trees. The climb was steeper, but easier. The young trees were tall enough now to allow my passage below their lowest limbs, unimpeded by undergrowth. The ground was smoother and softer, but the earth was quaking more intensely with every step. I moved with more speed and greater desperation.
As I neared the tree line, the roar began. It was an overwhelming roar, with many sounds mixed together. There was the sound of rushing waters and tall buildings collapsing and then being ground into dust. Steel, concrete, roadways, houses, trees -- all were being washed and crushed together. It was the sound of "History's Most Powerful Earthquake" mating with "History's Most Powerful Tidal Wave."
I cleared the tree line. I could not look back. The roar of destruction became totally deafening. The earthquake was obviously going to shake the island to pieces until it sank into the sea. Another sound from this roar was suddenly identifiable. It was like a heart-rending whisper that could not be covered by the other sounds. It was the screams of people struck by surprise, by fear, by pain, by desperation, by destruction. Somehow, my legs rushed me over the shattering, sinking ground, up to the top of the mountain.
There on the mountaintop, I suddenly heard another sound, louder but separate from the roar ringing in my ears. The island was splitting in half right before my eyes! The sound of an island ripping itself in half was louder than sound itself. In the loudest possible moment, the island split in two. The half on which I stood was shaking violently and was sure to sink below the sea. But the "half-island" across the chasm was motionless -- perfectly quiet and peaceful, and slightly lower than my mountain-top. There was a circle of ten or twelve white-haired, elderly, Oriental women sitting calmly on the ground across the chasm. In the middle of their circle was a middle-aged man, also Oriental. They all seemed to be very patiently waiting for me to join them.
The chasm was too wide to leap across to the other side. A twisted tree, growing out of the side of my crumbling half of the island, cast out a naked branch about halfway across the gap. It looked possible to reach that tree limb and then to swing across the remaining distance. It was an easy, though fearful decision. To stay meant certain destruction; to leap was hope. With all my mind, with all my heart, and with all my strength, I leapt toward that limb, caught on with both hands, swung back and forth a few times, and then leaped again as high and as far as I could. I floated slowly downward toward the center of that circle of people.
It was very peaceful. They were all smiling a welcome. There was no more roar. There were birds singing and the peaceful sounds of a calm breeze in the trees. I was about to land in front of the gentle- man in the middle of the circle. Avery thick white fog came rolling in, hiding the circle of women, but the man was still visible. I was almost in front of him, and wanted to see his face, but the white fog began covering him also. Finally I was in front of him, but could only see his very big, friendly, beautiful smile. I was safe.
Then the ringing began, a familiar sound, getting louder and louder. I awoke in my bed, in that small cabin near the University of Hawaii. I jumped up and shut off my alarm clock. It was 5:30 AM. Every detail of that dream was, and still is, crystal clear in my memory -- way beyond what I have written here. I have never had such a dream before or since. I called to my room mates to make sure they were all awake. We started work at 6:00 AM, pouring cement for our landlord's new, high-rise condos being built across the street. They listened about the dream a little; then we worked hard for five or six hours and finally went out surfing. In the evening, they heard the rest of the details. They especially were interested in the part where I invited them to go "mountain climbing." None of us contemplated the symbolism or possible prophetic aspects of the dream. At that time it seemed interesting, though not necessarily meaningful.
Three years later, I became a born-again Christian, and began reading the New Testament for the first time in my life. I read the whole Scripture at least twelve times with heartfelt prayer before and after each reading. Many readings were accomplished with other believers and non-believers who accepted my invitation to read with me. The Scriptures regarding the Second Coming of Christ struck my heart so deeply. I became very serious and desperate to "... pray constantly to be worthy to stand before the Son of God in the Last Days."
Three years after my conversion from Judaism to Christianity, I heard from a new acquaintance that Reverend Moon had some very important information about God's ideal and purpose for His creation; what actually happened at the fall of man; and most importantly, a critical message concerning the Second Coming. I was not very interested, as I trusted the words of Jesus in the Bible more than anything else in life.
But eventually, I had a very short but powerful dream in which Jesus came to me, stared into my eyes and spoke to me heart to heart. (This would make another story.) After that dream, I agreed to listen to some of the information, but with a very careful approach. As it turned out, it was very intriguing, so I kept listening. At the same time, I prayed about every point, and argued every point, and tested every syllable of every word I was hearing. Finally, I decided that it was all coming from God, and it would be a good idea to help the Unification movement spread this message to the good people of this world.
About a year after that decision, an opportunity occurred for me to go to a traditional 5 AM Sunday service in upstate New York and see Reverend Moon for the first time. After prayer, Reverend Moon stood up to deliver a sermon. It seemed as if he was scanning every single face in the crowd of about six hundred people. Suddenly, as if happy about the people he saw, a giant smile burst out across his face. It was unmistakably the smile from the man in my dream in Hawaii -- seven years before.
I do not remember a single word from the sermon. I was hopelessly sobbing throughout the entire speech. The meaning of the dream became crystal clear. The wild destruction, the peaceful refuge, my friends, the circle of elders, my struggle to survive -- everything was clear. I could understand the whole message, including who that man was on the peaceful half of the "dream" island, including his mission ordained by God.
For thirty years, I have been listening to and testing every word of this message, and still I, and all my family, are helping to share it. It is our family's hope that all people of good will can hear this message, and understand the mission of its messenger.
Nathan Loew was born in 1949 and raised in Lawrence, Massachusetts. He joined the Unification movement in 1974 and since then has done missionary work in Turkey and Ireland as well as in the U.S. In Northern Virginia, Nathan set up a family business. In 2003 he graduated from law school, and he is now practicing law in the Manassas, Virginia area. Nathan and his wife Debra have four children.