When rain falls like stars from the sky

 Guys, have you ever dreamed about the stars falling from the sky at night, not once but several times in about the span of a year? Well it happened to me some time ago. Guys, have you ever dreamed of the earth cracking open and creating extremely huge sinkholes; sinkholes so deep one could see no bottom. Everywhere as far as one could see. sinkholes swallowed up large places that were populated, and at day time? And there was nowhere to run? As I am looking at this from a dreamer's view, I see builders' heavy equipment that was being operated by men while building skyscrapers and highways being swallowed up as the men tried to jump off their bulldozers and cranes to no avail.

All I could hear was those guys screaming as they disappeared into the abyss. What about as you were walking somewhere in your hometown on a bright sunny autumn afternoon and the leaves were falling from the trees like in the Van Morrison song titled "When the leaves come falling down"? Well, have you seen the entire sky up above you start to evaporate like a huge scroll made out of aluminum foil paper and begin to rapidly roll back on itself and then begin to tear, crackle and snap as if it was in the hands of some great invisible angry being's hands who crumbled it up and threw it away? And as you stood there in your best Sunday clothes, shocked at this incredible unexplainable seemingly natural phenomena transpiring above you, then all of sudden the earth starts to break open under your feet also. And then the earth starts to rock and real madly and you spread your arms and legs staring at the ground in horror trying to balance yourself and then everything explodes. And you are no longer on the screen, because the screen goes completely black? Well you see that was me walking by a Bowling Ball Alley place here on my way home in this dream. Oh I have many many dreams to tell before I make my exit stage right I hope?

Again guys, I have attempted to tell people over the years, well since 1983 to the present, about what I hear and see in my dreams. Even in Church I tried to tell Pastors and Ministers since 1986 to a couple years ago, and they have laughed at me. I also wrote to our Newspaper Editors since then, and they allowed some letters on these subjects to be printed, especially about the American Economic Collapse that I was told by a White man that was coming, and the Housing Market collapse before it happened. I also warned about the great food Famine to come. But I had to personally meet with Publishers and Editors here to get my letters printed and I had to cite my Constitutional Rights as an American, just to get some words in edgeways. And as for the Preachers they said to me that their mandate and mission is only to speak about "The Gospel of Jesus Christ." I didn't argue with those guys and left those Churches for now.  But, I did tell one special Mexican woman from Martindale, Texas at the church that I attended from 2014 through 2022 in San Marcos about my dreams. And I did show her some journals about my dreams since 1983 to present to her. And she said this to me, "I believe you because you have written proof. But I don't like this. And I don't like that you say that there will be no Pre-Tribulation Rapture. But, I can see that this information didn't come naturally to you." And so guys, as I continue to tell the rest of the story like the Great Paul Harvey used to say, let me say at the get go, that my personal troubles here on earth are small fries compared to the great troubles in those dreams mentioned above. And before I move on for now, let me say as of today most Preachers and Teachers of "The Word of God" are preaching on The Great Apocalypse now, but hadn't before. What happened? Okay, I was told by my Alyssa not to get off into so many tangents. However, this introduction is not a tangent, it will set the stage for the continuation into that great desert journey of mine, and then into so much more.

Out here I will meet from time to time some characters that will correlate directly with the great story that John Bunyan wrote about in Pilgrim's Progress, and add more affirmation to his claims in his stories. Okay, let me go back to the year of 1958 where my mom and dad are tragically separated from each other and their great love. Remember that they're still very young and are baffled by the unexpected dark cloud that shrouds them now. My mom is beautiful with long and beautiful black hair and looks Asian, and dad is handsome with long thick wavy hair and looks Greek. The White women adored my dad and said he looked like the actor Cesar Romero. My dad misses mom a lot and remains faithful to Teresa during this time, but becomes a workaholic. He remained unmarried for 7 years after mom died. When we move to 119 Kenwood street c.1959, mom is still hospitalized. However, the five sons for Ysabel and Teresa are now away from their maternal grandparents' house, and are older. Therefore, dear ole dad hires a woman now and then to clean the house and cook for us. Ysabel was not a talkative person, I guess he had so many things on his mind that he became introverted like those people in my early years that lived in the country. They didn't talk much either, especially to the kids. I still call those adult folk "Ranch Style beans". I remember that dad would have the milkman from Carnations or Borden milk companies bring us milk, ice cream, orange juice, and chocolate milk twice a week. My brother Junior could put away those gallons of milk and juice, and ice cream away by himself. So, we had to watch out for him. And the woman like Donna Juana or one of my aunts like Nacha would prepare all our lunch and supper meals and they would leave by 4pm. Man, Donna Juana was older than my Tia Nacha and she could cook a storm up like "Rico y Sabroso" and I am telling you the truth. Those Mexican Women back then could cook! Of course dear ole dad would take care of us on the weekends. My grandma Florencia would have my aunt Janie drive her to our place many times to deliver us her special meals, and especially those tortillas that women of those days made, "Esto si era Rico y Especial''. You will never find those kinds made now. And grandma knew that we loved her food a lot. Anyhow, my dear ole dad and mom were young and separated by a great gulf it seemed to me. And somewhere near this timeline a beautiful song came along titled "Running Bear, Little White Dove '' that illustrated these two love birds' predicament appropriately. But my dad didn't die until much later than mom, and he went through two more marriages before dying. My mom died on September 3rd, 1962 on a Monday. Dad's story was a happy one and a tragic one as well. We all have those episodes in our lives when we are screaming "Wheee!" in so much thrilling excitement at the top of the coaster ride, and holding on to dear life with terror in our eyes as it seems that we are doing 7 "G's" in a tunnel into the pits of hell with no brakes. All of a sudden we remember mama and scream, help me mama, help me please! And if you thought your tribulations were over, just wait awhile and some unforeseen circumstance is gonna put your metal to the fire and is gonna humble you a notch or two. I bear witness to this fact to be true.

Watch this, just when dear ole dad, who struggled to build his new house from older lumber that came from houses torn down to make room for the expanding San Marcos University back then, and he thought that life would be like The Life of Riley because things materially were looking up again for him. And although he was saving money by salvaging old lumber and by having his five boys straighten crooked nails that he pulled out from these boards with crow bar for days without pay or special rewards, because these would save him money.

Then suddenly, like a rabbit punch, his second to the oldest son named Ysabel Jr. contracted "Polio" in 1958. Man!, when it rains it pours. And after a year of recovery for my brother, we brothers were playing football outside one day when Junior stumbled and we heard a loud snapping sound when he hit the ground. Yes, Junior broke his bad leg. Afterwards he was placed in a body cast for a very long time. He remained bedridden like that too. And to make matters worse, this happened just after being released from treatment and therapies for Polio. "If it ain't one thing it's another", well whoever said that knew what life is about. Then some people tell me, "Hey, turn off those depressive sad songs about hard times". And I tell them, "Hey, those guys singing those sad songs and Blues are making millions of dollars because how can you not tell about hard times when many people are hurting and suffering as we speak." I can relate and empathize with those who suffer pain. And like I was saying, Polio struck first in the late 1940's with the second oldest in my mom's family and she was my aunt Lola. Then my brother Abel; I call him Abel because he hates the name Ysabel; and so do I. I am grateful that dad and mom didn't give me that awful name. And now he doesn't like the name Junior either, so we call him Abel; and he calls himself Abel. Abel needless to say suffered a great deal and still suffers from the effects of that crippling disease. Having to work standing or walking has been sheer misery for him, and still is. My Tia Lola suffered way much more because both her legs were affected whereas Abel only had one leg affected. Lola was young but now she is gone to the other side. And Abel was young and still here, Nevertheless, the bills had to be paid as well. Then Abel gets stuck with the name Ysabel, now that is painful brother! What is that? Is that Misery and Pain or what?

Anyway, Dad loved his name and was proud of it. However, I still wonder what was on dear ole dad's mind, as he traveled down this lonely dark eerie path alone. What was on his mind as he came home late in the evening with big fish born at the headwaters of the once beautiful San Marcos River. After the fish fry, or late suppers those nights, what did he think about as he was laying in his bed in the dark? I wonder if he encountered the hefty strong "Molech" in his fancy high dollar three piece brownish tan suit with thin white pinstripes who waxes oh so poetically, and I mean a master in eloquence... in those woods by the river then? Well, Molech has a thousand names and many many forms. And I wonder if dad got to see the "Machine" that swallows up people and spits them out like dirty rags after their use is no longer productive? Did he get to see The Great Ephah I wonder?

Guys, several readers of my Letters that did appear in The Opinion Page way back then in The S.M.D.R  Newspapers did comment in the Opinion Page sort of mad at me for making what seemed to them to be outrageous claims, stating, 'Who made Ruben Gutierrez a prophet?' I am not a prophet. I am only someone who has been disciplined and forced into the great art of having been Institutionalized in places where only Silence and hard labor was allowed, and only a Bible to read. And when I was 9 or 10 years old my dad took all my brothers to see Cecil B. DeMills' Ten Commandments at The Palace Theater here in San Marcos; for the first time together ever. And after that mind blowing experience I said to myself, if the "God" of Moses has that kind of Power, I am gonna serve "Him" forever. And from there Socrates began to make observations and ask questions about the Universe, and why so much injustice in a World created by a "Good God?" Well, let us chew the cud and ruminate on all the unscripted flavors of life that are served to us on a daily basis, and what we can do to deter the Times. Or maybe it's too late for that, who knows? I still say that good people can make a difference and slow down the inevitable. Let's do it for the young people and for the babies. Let us sleep on that. Thanks guys for reading. And no one will hurt my feelings if you disagree or don't like my subject matter. I have also learned that we cannot always please everyone. And that is part of the great soup of life too. I love it!. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Everything has Rhythm and Rhyme Baby! Everything.                                                                                                                                                                               Respectfully,    

 Ruben N. Gutierrez

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