In July of 2020, I had a vision. What occurred was actually not a vision but something else altogether. It was tangible. I could feel and sense it viscerally, so much so that at the moment I was afraid to touch what was manifesting before me. I felt that the fire may burn my fingers if I reached for it.
At any rate, what appeared before me was a “headline,” as if a placard placed above a storefront. Only the placard wasn’t made of wood nor metal. It was made of paper. Like parchment paper, and it was old. Somehow, I just knew in my “knower,” –like you yourself may have known things at times in your life. It just kind of “pops” in there and you “know it” (whatever “it” is for you).
That was how I knew that the parchment, or papyrus rather, was very, very old. I knew, in fact, that it was ancient, from the “ancient of days,” so old that there was an air of timelessness to it. It had been created, but the creation of it was so long ago that no living creature in heaven or in earth, except the Creator him/herself, remembers when or how.
Anyways, there was the substance, ancient and yellowing, and there was the fire (which I will get to in a minute). The letters written on this papyrus were M E L _____ K.
It was one word, with most of it blacked out in a kind of grey fog, as if the whole word was there. My eyes, however, suddenly had a bad case of glaucoma and I just couldn’t see it. What I did see, however, was the fire.
The fire was burning around the edges of the papyrus, embossing the letters that I could see. There was fire coming from behind the paper as well. And there was smoke. And I tasted the aroma and substance of the smoke, wood burning and something else more earthy—cedar? I tasted it in my mouth and in my nose. It surrounded me.
That was it. That was the vision. But there is more to the story. The more starts out with the fact that, quite truly, at the time I had absolutely no idea what I was seeing.
After the vision, I asked someone that I thought may know about such things.
“You know, I had this vision the other day, or whatever you call it, it wasn’t a dream cuz I was awake but wow it seemed so real,” I explained to my friend who sat patiently listening to me.
“…and in it I saw these words M E L …dot dot dot,” I continued. “I couldn’t see the rest. And then a K. Any idea what it means?”
Her eyes widened.
“Do you mean Melchizedek?” she said.
I shrugged. I had no idea who that was.
Over the weeks that followed, however, I dove into research (the one thing that— hallelujah— I know how to do!). And I found out who this Melchizedek person was, kind of. That is, I read about all the conflicting opinions regarding who he was, what he was, and about the Order of Melchizedek. I read literal interpretations, biblical theories, new age ponderings and mystical wanderings. Some folks had had direct encounters, similar to me.
I read about how Yeshua fits in, how other individuals played and still play a part, and most importantly, why the whole topic is relevant to those of us who are still living and breathing in the crazy world known as the modern age.
Admittedly, there was no overall consensus that I could determine amongst all these folks. So, eventually I went back to what I knew. That is, I knew had had a vision and I knew it came from something other than what I had eaten for dinner the night before. As such, I surmised, the vision must have come for some reason.
But what exactly was the reason? And what the heck does it mean?
I went back to prayer and meditation to learn more from the one whom I was slowly getting to know in a more intimate way. The one I felt that I could trust completely. The one I felt most safe with in exploring these things. I didn’t really know why I felt this way, only that I did completely.
“Yeshua, please help me know more about this person called Melchizedek and the Order of Melchizedek.”
I waited, sitting on the small built-in couch in my rented trailer in Cottonwood, AZ. The quiet descended and a kind of sparkly light seemed to rise up amongst it. It was a dim, shadowy, silver light that one seeing maybe once in a lifetime in the middle of a partial eclipse. The dull roar of the traffic along highway 87 came to a stop. Everything seemed to come to a stop. It was precious, scary, and yet at the same time eerily beautiful.
With my eyes closed, this is what I saw:
It was a scene of white, although it is billowy white, as if clouds are present, evident only by a slight blur along the edges of the scene and where the “ground” butts up against an object or a creature. It is like a white fog, low-lying, wispy, and not at all overbearing. From where I am witnessing, some distance away (maybe a football fields worth of space), I see a rainbow arch. It is moveable and I know it is moving towards me. On either side are horses. They are reddish-brown stallions, with nostrils flaring, rearing up, and prancing, holding their ground, but at the same time practicing restraint, as if someone they listen to is holding them back. The commandment to obey, which they do with every fiber in their glorious bodies, takes precedent over their natural inclination to run and charge.
“Steady now, trusted steeds, stead,” I hear a loving voice say.
Behind the rainbow, actually, quite a ways back, is a throng of people. Thousands, maybe millions. Are they actual people? I think they are, although I can’t be sure. I see humanoid body shapes— heads and arms and torsos, and legs– so that is why I say “people.” There are so many though, and they are so far away that I can only see them as one giant mass of forms and shadows within the Light and the white fluffy, wispy clouds and the glistening, golden dust that is being created by the stamping horses.
Directly underneath the rainbow arch is a single band of people. They walk steady. I see them all—men and women— in different colored gowns with different colored bands or belts around them. They are steadfast but not serious. In fact, there is joviality to their continence. I don’t know why I know this since I can’t really see their faces. I just know.
Then, finally, walking quite a distance ahead of them, is a man in a light blue tunic. He has a white belt around his waist. He walks with a wooden staff that is tall and tasseled. He is an older man but strong, steady. He leads the group and knows it. He keeps the horses at bay, walking with the clan as they all move the rainbow forward. He is calm, steady, surefooted, knowing.
“Steady now, steady,” he says.
—- —- —- —- —- —-
Since then, over the last year and a half roughly, I have seen this image. In meditations, throughout my day when I take a break from my constant typing to look out the window or sip a bit of tea, in the quiet times and also in the chaotic times, I see in my mind’s eye the rainbow arch, the people behind, the people underneath, the old man walking steadily. It has become, for me, a constant presence and a timeclock of sorts for my days, calibrating the time in this present reality and also leading me to something that my Spirit knows is “coming.”
I don’t know what is coming, only that it is, and that it gets closer.
I know this by the way the image changes for me. Over the months, the mass of people behind the rainbow has gotten larger. They are closer now to the rainbow arch. The rainbow arch itself has gotten more in focus, the colors brighter, the whisps of white clouds more brilliant. And I can see the shine of a shimmering sun as it glistens on their dewy forms.
The most significant change, however, has come with the people who, in the beginning, were walking steadily directly underneath the rainbow arch.
Now, when I see the image, these people are clearly walking ahead of the rainbow arch. And there are more of them. They are the Beautiful Ones who walk so honestly, so regally, and yet so humbly as one great unit, a single rainbow “body” representing the colors of the arch and also walking with every step, for what it stands for, what it means for the people behind it, for the earth, and for the cosmos.
I also see winged horses now. On either side. They rise up on their hind legs and they are amazing and beautiful and awesome beyond compare.
And still I see the single older man in the light blue tunic with a belt that has now turned to a kind of bronzy gold. He still walks steadily on sandaled feet. He still walks with a staff, which he grasps lovingly, gently yet firmly. He still says, “steady now, steady,” although there is a particularly joyful twinkle in his eye that I have not seen before now.
And that is it. Except that, also, the whole precession travels a bit faster now. And is closer in view to me as it approaches my clear line of sight.
© Nikki Lyn Pugh, Jan 17, 2022