I must point out in advance, that I don't consider myself a religious person, and though several of the dreams I have described have a religious element, I think that is why they strike me as particularly unusual and interesting.

I first notice that I am on a battlefield, heavily scarred by the movements of thousands of men. I know that I have been here before in other dreams. The pre-dawn sky is purplish-pink, hazy, though no distinct features of the sky can be made out. In some ways the sky reminds me of a cheap movie set sky, like the kind they used when portraying an alien planet on the old Star Trek.
The ground is grassless, and polished hard from the tread of the many boots. There are blasted trees, leafless and limbless. Even the bark has been stripped from them. It looks as if anything that could have been used as a weapon was used, then carried off, removed. There are no bodies, no bones, only the empty place where a thousand battles have been fought.
I know that I am not safe here, and as I think that, I start to here the voices of men. Ugly, harsh, southern voices. They aren't near enough to me yet to understand the words, but I know they are looking for someone. I start to look for a place to hide, but there is no place. The battlefield is a featureless hillock, knobbed and dry. I quickly run looking for a place of safety, I hear the voices, getting closer, and I start to despair. Then I notice what looks like a shallow groove near a fallen log. I run to it, and as I start to climb in, I realize it is actually a small pit, maybe 6 or 7 feet deep. A hand reaches out from the hole and helps me climb in.
The person who helps me is not one of the enemy, he is in fact a very beautiful black man, with a radiant glow about him. He is dressed very modestly, wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt and sneakers. I instantly know that this is the second coming of Jesus, and I am awestruck by his sheer force of presence. He smiles at me, he knows that I know who he is. He explains to me that the men are looking for him. They are christians, but they cannot accept that Jesus would be black, and therefore have decided he must be the anti-christ. They are trying to kill him. Before I can say anything to him, the muzzle of a shotgun is lowered into the lip of the hole. A thickly accented southern voice commands us to get out of the hole.
We climb out and I see a large group of very ugly southern men. Many of them are missing teeth and all are wearing stained and sloppy clothing. All of them carry guns.
These are the type of people I have fought against all my life, so it is without hesitation that I begin to attack them. However I don't attack them physically. I am psychically dueling them, the men discharge their weapons in random directions or at each other as I confuse and bewilder them. Jesus too, is fighting them. I see him raise his hand and sweep it to his right. In front of him, a man with a rifle swings it in tandem with the motion of Jesus' hand. The rifle fires, and one of the enemy is killed by the bullet.
I am perhaps 30 feet away from a man with a pistol, but suddenly I draw near him, though my feet are motionless. The effect is similar to a film rolling at double speed zooming in for a tight shot. Suddenly I am only a few feet from him now. I can smell his stinking breath. He leers at me and aims his huge silver pistol. I reach out and find his heart, and though I do not actually physically touch him I feel the pulse of his heart in my hands. The man is about to shoot, but I am crushing his heart. He grasps his chest and collapses, the gun falling harmlessly to the ground.
I look around, expecting at any moment to see another gun aimed at me. But there are no others, Jesus and I have killed them all. We are alone on the hill. The corpses of the southern men are everywhere.
Jesus thanks me for helping him, but I feel strange.
"Who are you?", I ask.
He smiles again and says, "I am not the second one, as you thought. I am the third. The second one was born to a mother addicted to crack, and died eleven days later."
I have a weird sort of consternation, like I have upset a balance, done something I shouldn't have. Should I have helped this man, I wonder.
He touches my shoulder and says, "We are not enemies, simply opponents. What happened today, happened as it should have. It is now that we will be able live to fulfill our destiny."

Then I woke up.