Bullet of God.

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Quite a dream.  Dream?

I saw a bullet.  Some larger three hundred caliber.  Probably .308, as those are favored.  But... it could be one of the sister calibers.  Two marks on it.  Letters.  Not English, or German, or Italian... Greek?  I... was the bullet.

Into the rifle, hand fed into the chamber.  Bolt action, bolt, of course, back.  Not a combat rifle, but the quality would allow for such.  Just... a bit more expensive than most armies would wish to pay for a single arm.  Not excessively fancy, but a handsome piece for any daily needs, for a hunter, predator remover, or soldier, even sniper.  I don't know, but I suspect the latter.

In I went.  The bolt closed.  Rifle raised to a shoulder.  Sent.  I didn't see what I was being sent toward.  Hopefully not a cow, or even game?  Though just as awfully, more, a human.  Even if deserving, a sad thing.  Too, I could not see who was pulling the trigger.  A good guy, doing what needed doing?  A bad guy, doing God's will, if not.. as he understood it?  Funny how even murdering Christ... was a good deed.  If... that was no where near the intention?

As the dream was ending, I looked at the letters.  Took my breath.

It connected with dream(s), vision(s), from the past.

I told you I have "dreamed" of nailing Christ to the cross?  And that there were letters on the spike.  Golden, though brass, bronze, or gold in true nature?  And, just coated, or so I believed.  But the letters were molded, or forged, into the main metal parts, then painted or coated.  But that I couldn't remember what they were.

Tonight, clear as a bullet through the mind, I realized both at once.  Alpha and Omega.

What... any of it means is not something I will work out tonight.  Quite... the dream... and connection to the other.  Terrifying, somehow.

More?  I told you I dreamed not just of nailing one of Jesus' arms to the cross, but piercing His side with the spear?  What I never mentioned was that it didn't actually seem like me actually doing the damages.  Tonight, at least in dream or vision form, I learned why.

I was not that soldier, nor the centurion.  I was a spirit.  I didn't posses those, to do those things, merely to be closer, to see and hear without being noticed.  I was... in those men.  A minor form of possession... skin walking.  A little too close.  For one of my kind.  Though, from what I gather, that was too close for even ones of your kind.

He came to, in part, deliver the Eucharist.  Imagine that, only fresh squeezed.  As one of your kind, or mine.  Willy Pete?  Right in the kisser, of the holy, divine, sort.  Well, so the dream, vision, went.  How would one such as I survive?  I suppose, in some ways, I didn't.  Wow.  Some serious dreams, and wrestling with things beyond.

No, I don't know why the letters, other than biblical inferences.  Nor do I know who gave the soldier that spike, to use.  Was it Christians, who knew?  Was it Jews, as mockery?  Someone knew exactly what they were doing.  Though, sometimes, God and Satan agree to do the very same things if for very different reasons.  One of them... always loses.  *grins*  Always.  It isn't even a contest, if it seems like it from our perspective at times.  *rictus grins*

My heart... hurts... a bit.  That was pretty... profound.  Or seems like it.