When I had first arrived, I had gotten rid of most of my possessions, notably a pack and clothing. My attire consisted solely of a kaftan type garment that had come my way. My sleeping gear was made up of a colorful lightweight cotton sheet. With this gear I was hardly prepared to venture away from the Keys. It seemed everyone was provisioning for our looming exodus. I found an excellent full sized bed cover. It was of a lightweight quilted design, the upside of bright cotton, the down side of silk. This would make become the foundation of my bedroll for the rest of my travels. In a pile of abandoned clothing, I gleaned a suitable outfit to provide warmth and comfort outside the Keys. No one was totally physically prepared to leave, nor relished giving up our cherished community. Reality spoke otherwise. There was rumor of coming raids and likely harassment determined to drive us out. There was obvious tension and an evil portent that the forces driving us away from here would be in worldwide pursuit.
Late one evening, I headed over to Grassy Key. On the way, I bumped into a vehicle parked just off the road. A young couple with two kids were asleep on the ground beside the car. Apologizing for disturbing them, I got into a conversation with the father. He related they had left Indiana in search of a paradise they heard existed nearby. Apparently work had dried up for them and they were at the tail end of the winter migration. Unfortunately, I had to beak the news that the paradise they were seeking was under attack. By the man’s response, it seemed he was familiar with vestiges of beneficence being snatched away. He thanked me for the information and was resigned to keep on moving. I was beginning to grasp the Gypsy Spirit. Continuing my walk, I entered the way to Grassy Key. Right away, I came upon three police cruisers and several officers. They were confronting several trees that had been cut down and fallen across the road. Apparently this was an attempt to bar entrance to Paradise. “What is this?” I asked one of the officers. “I guess they are declaring war.” was the response. “Not only do I not want to go to war, if I did , I would not go against you guys,” I came back. It seemed I was not looked upon as the enemy. For the next minutes, I consoled with them and picked up that this barred entrance was only a temporary inconvenience and they would no doubt obtain reinforcements and make their way past. As soon as they got in their cars and left, I continued on down to the beach. There, around the old central campfire, was the gang that felled the trees. They were celebrating their victory of keeping the law at bay. It was no use telling them their victory was likely short lived and reinforced police would come back. I related the story of witnessing the police turning back and mentioned they had plenty of resources. This crew likely reinforced with alcohol acted as if they welcomed confrontation. I wished them well and headed back to my refuge.
Sometime that night, I was awakened by a couple of policemen who were sweeping through our encampment, informing us it was no longer legal to live here and warning us to leave and that a not so pleasant push was on its way. I gathered my stuff and went on ahead of these officers to awaken my mates and forewarn them a couple of hospitable cops were on the way to issue warning. I convinced Karen that our camp no longer offered refuge. We gathered our small belongings and headed down to a hidden beach where structures would not give away our presence. That night we both again received a conjunct vision. This one briefly showed that through out the world was a gathering of the remnants of God’s people. They were being assembled by beings referred to as, “Stewardesses.” In the morning, Karen and I figured we were to part ways and venture out and witness the unfolding of this story. Neither of us held much import that we were given this vision, except we felt we were being charged with an added responsibility to treat other well and to the best of our ability live the Golden Rule.