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George Washington’s Prophetic Dream

Explore the enduring tale of George Washington's Prophetic Dream, a captivating narrative that unfolds the trials and triumphs of America's destiny.

In the midst of war’s uncertainty and a young nation’s fragile hope, a story surfaced that would reach almost mythical status. This is the story of George Washington’s vision, a prophetic dream that was said to have been experienced by the very man who led America in its infancy. This tale wasn’t spread far and wide in the days right after it happened, but it waited nearly a century before becoming known when it was published in the National Tribune in December 1880.

The narrative of George Washington’s vision has intrigue, suspense, and a glimpse into what the future might hold. It’s a curious piece of American folklore that offers both a warning and a promise—it’s a story of America’s trials and its potential triumphs through the eyes of its first President.

A Glimpse into the Unknown

The vision, according to the storytelling, took place in the bitter winter of 1777, a winter that saw Washington and his troops weathering hard times at Valley Forge. Washington, worn by the weight of war and leadership, supposedly found some solitude and fell into a state of contemplation. It is here, at this moment of quiet reflection, that the vision is said to have occurred.

According to the tale, Washington saw a mysterious figure, perhaps an angel, who led him through a series of scenes showing the future of America. This shadowy visitor showed him three great events that would come to pass.

The Three Perils of America

The first scene revealed to Washington was America embroiled in another great struggle, this time within its own borders. It was the Civil War, where brother would fight against brother. In this vision, the young country was tested mightily but emerged united, a stronger nation forged from the flames of conflict.

Entranced by the vividness of the angelic vision, Washington then saw a second scene. This time, vast oceans separated America from its new adversary. Across these waters, he witnessed America at war once more, engaged in tremendous battles on foreign soil. This part of the vision rings true to what we now recognize as World Wars, where America played a crucial role in the victories over nations that threatened peace and democracy.

The third and final threat was the most mysterious and is often debated for its meaning. In this scene, chaos emerged within America’s borders once again—cities burned, and a great darkness smothered the land. Yet, from this darkness, hope would emerge. America would once again find its way, recovering from the brink and becoming a beacon of light to the rest of the world.

A Story of Resilience

The article that surfaced in the National Tribune many years later tells us more than just a story of Washington’s dream; it speaks to the collective hope and enduring spirit of America. Whether Washington really had such a vision is not the point. The story survived and was shared because it resonates on a deeper level—it’s about the belief in the resilience of a nation, the conviction that no matter the challenge, through unity and courage, America can and will overcome.

Why Does It Matter?

When the National Tribune published this account, it was a period of rebuilding and reflection. The country had recently endured the devastating Civil War and was still nursing the wounds of division and loss. The story of Washington’s vision offered comfort and a sense of destiny for a nation looking to rebuild and find its purpose again.

Even if the vision was more of a legend than a fact, the power it held was real. It acted like a lighthouse for the spirit of the country, guiding the collective heart of the nation toward the feeling that all struggles have a reason and a conclusion in sight.

Holding onto Hope

The story of George Washington’s vision is less about the mystic experience and more about what it represents. It illustrates the idea that America is meant to weather storms, to struggle, but ultimately to emerge stronger, unified, and with a deeper commitment to the principles of freedom and justice.

Not every day requires the revelation of an angel or the foresight of a vision. Sometimes, the most profound truths are found in the stories we choose to believe and the hope we choose to hold onto. As a nation, the journey is rarely simple or easy, but there is comfort in folklore that suggests our struggles are part of a larger, grander tapestry of destiny.

As readers in the 1880s devoured the words printed about the vision of their first leader, it gave them a sense of looking forward, past the difficulties, to grasp a collective belief that there was greatness ahead. It reaffirmed the American dream: the idea that no matter what hardships we face, we have the capability to rise above and find a brighter future.

This is where the value of the story of George Washington’s vision truly lies. Not in the predictive power of a dream, but in the enduring belief in the promise of the nation and the relentless pursuit of a more perfect union.



Inspiration Other

An Angel Once Wrote…

An Angel Once Wrote

An Angel Once Wrote:

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.

To handle yourself, use your head; To handle others, use your heart.

Anger is only one letter short of danger.

If someone betrays you once, it’s his fault; if he betrays you twice, it’s your fault.

Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people.

God gives every bird it’s food, But He does not throw it into its nest.

He who loses money, loses much; He who loses a friend, loses more; He who loses faith, loses all.

Beautiful young people are acts of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art.

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t live long enough to make them all yourself.

The tongue weighs practically nothing, but so few people can hold it.



Amusing Inspiration Short Story

The Old Man And The Dog

Angels come to us in many forms. They come and go many times without us ever knowing who they are.

The Old Man and the Dog
By Catherine Moore

“Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me. “Can’t you do anything right?”

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another battle.

“I saw the car, Dad. Please don’t yell at me when I’m driving.”

My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.

The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his powers.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived… But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.

Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue..

Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s
troubled mind.

But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.”

I listened as she read.. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed..

Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog “Can you tell me about him?”

The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. “He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow..” He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill him?”

“Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.”

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. “I’ll take him,” I said..

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. “Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!” I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. “You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s staying!”

Dad ignored me. “Did you hear me, Dad?” I screamed.

At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne’s cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad’s bed.. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad’s peace of mind.

The morning of Dad’s funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

“I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,” he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article….

Cheyenne ‘s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .. ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

The Old Man And The Dog
The Old Man And The Dog

 

Information Political

George Washington’s Vision

George Washington's Vision

With all that is happening in America today, now would be a good time to revisit this.

George Washington’s vision was published in the National Tribune in December 1880. The vision was told to a reporter named Wesley Bradshaw by an officer who served under General Washington at Valley Forge, named Anthony Sherman. In the vision, Washington sees three great trials to overtake the Union. These were the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the greatest threat, a war fought on the soil of the United States as the final conflict.

Wesley Bradshaw’s Testimony:

The last time I ever saw Anthony Sherman was on the Fourth of July, 1859, in Independence Square. He was then ninety-nine years old, and becoming very feeble. But though so old, his dimming eyes rekindled as he gazed upon Independence Hall, which he came to visit once more.

“Let us go into the hall,” he said. “I want to tell you of an incident of Washington’s life — one which no one alive knows of except myself; and if you live, you will before long see it verified.

From the opening of the Revolution we experienced all phases of fortune, now good and now ill; one time victorious and another conquered. The darkest period we had, I think, was when Washington, after several reverses, retreated to Valley Forge, where he resolved to spend the winter of 1777. Ah! I have often seen our dear commander’s care-worn cheeks, as he would be conversing with a confidential officer about the condition of his poor soldiers. You have doubtless heard the story of Washington’s going to the thicket to pray. Well, it was not only true, but he used often to pray in secret for aid and comfort from God, the interposition of whose Divine Providence brought us safely through the darkest days of tribulation.

The various accounts of this prophecy all agree in content; there are minor variations only in the circumstances under which George Washington told various individuals through the years after it happened.

The setting was Valley Forge in the winter of 1777, where George Washington was quartering his troops. Their situation was desperate and food was scarce. There was great agitation in the colonies against our continued effort to secure our freedom from England. The Continental Congress was not sending adequate supplies, many of the troops did not even have shoes to wear in the deep snow. Many were diseased and many died. Morale at Valley Forge was at an all-time low. George Washington was in a desperate situation but determined to see the struggle through..

This is the account of what happened as he told it shortly after the event took place. These are the words of Washington himself.

Washington:

This afternoon, as I was sitting at this table engaged in preparing a dispatch, something seemed to disturb me. Looking up, I beheld standing opposite me a singularly beautiful female. So astonished was I, for I had given strict orders not to be disturbed, that it was some moments before I found language to inquire the cause of her presence. A second, a third and even a fourth time did I repeat my question, but received no answer from my mysterious visitor except a slight raising of her eyes.

By this time I felt strange sensations spreading through me. I would have risen but the riveted gaze of the being before me rendered volition impossible. I assayed once more to address her, but my tongue had become useless, as though it had become paralyzed.

A new influence, mysterious, potent, irresistible, took possession of me. All I could do was to gaze steadily, vacantly at my unknown visitor. Gradually the surrounding atmosphere seemed as if it had become filled with sensations, and luminous. Everything about me seemed to rarefy, the mysterious visitor herself becoming more airy and yet more distinct to my sight than before. I now began to feel as one dying, or rather to experience the sensations which I have sometimes imagined accompany dissolution. I did not think, I did not reason, I did not move; all were alike impossible. I was only conscious of gazing fixedly, vacantly at my companion.

Presently I heard a voice saying, “Son of the Republic, look and learn,” while at the same time my visitor extended her arm eastwardly, I now beheld a heavy white vapor at some distance rising fold upon fold. This gradually dissipated, and I looked upon a stranger scene. Before me lay spread out in one vast plain all the countries of the world — Europe, Asia, Africa and America. I saw rolling and tossing between Europe and America the billows of the Atlantic, and between Asia and America lay the Pacific.

“Son of the Republic,” said the same mysterious voice as before, “look and learn.” At that moment I beheld a dark, shadowy being, like an angel, standing or rather floating in mid-air, between Europe and America. Dipping water out of the ocean in the hollow of each hand, he sprinkled some upon America with his right hand, while with his left hand he cast some on Europe. Immediately a cloud raised from these countries, and joined in mid-ocean. For a while it remained stationary, and then moved slowly westward, until it enveloped America in its murky folds. Sharp flashes of lightning gleamed through it at intervals, and I heard the smothered groans and cries of the American people.

A second time the angel dipped water from the ocean, and sprinkled it out as before. The dark cloud was then drawn back to the ocean, in whose heaving billows in sank from view. A third time I heard the mysterious voice saying, “Son of the Republic, look and learn,” I cast my eyes upon America and beheld villages and towns and cities springing up one after another until the whole land from the Atlantic to the Pacific was dotted with them.

Again, I heard the mysterious voice say, “Son of the Republic, the end of the century cometh, look and learn.” At this the dark shadowy angel turned his face southward, and from Africa I saw an ill omened specter approach our land. It flitted slowly over every town and city of the latter. The inhabitants presently set themselves in battle array against each other. As I continued looking I saw a bright angel, on whose brow rested a crown of light, on which was traced the word “Union,” bearing the American flag which he placed between the divided nation, and said, “Remember ye are brethren.” Instantly, the inhabitants, casting from them their weapons became friends once more, and united around the National Standard.

“And again I heard the mysterious voice saying “Son of the Republic, look and learn.” At this the dark, shadowy angel placed a trumpet to his mouth, and blew three distinct blasts; and taking water from the ocean, he sprinkled it upon Europe, Asia and Africa. Then my eyes beheld a fearful scene: From each of these countries arose thick, black clouds that were soon joined into one. Throughout this mass there gleamed a dark red light by which I saw hordes of armed men, who, moving with the cloud, marched by land and sailed by sea to America. Our country was enveloped in this volume of cloud, and I saw these vast armies devastate the whole county and burn the villages, towns and cities that I beheld springing up. As my ears listened to the thundering of the cannon, clashing of sword, and the shouts and cries of millions in mortal combat, I heard again the mysterious voice saying, “Son of the Republic, look and learn” When the voice had ceased, the dark shadowy angel placed his trumpet once more to his mouth, and blew a long and fearful blast. “Instantly a light as of a thousand suns shone down from above me, and pierced and broke into fragments the dark cloud which enveloped America. At the same moment the angel upon whose head still shone the word Union, and who bore our national flag in one hand and a sword in the other, descended from the heavens attended by legions of white spirits. These immediately joined the inhabitants of America, who I perceived were will nigh overcome, but who immediately taking courage again, closed up their broken ranks and renewed the battle.

Again, amid the fearful noise of the conflict, I heard the mysterious voice saying, “Son of the Republic, look and learn.” As the voice ceased, the shadowy angel for the last time dipped water from the ocean and sprinkled it upon America. Instantly the dark cloud rolled back, together with the armies it had brought, leaving the inhabitants of the land victorious!

Then once more I beheld the villages, towns and cities springing up where I had seen them before, while the bright angel, planting the azure standard he had brought in the midst of them, cried with a loud voice: “While the stars remain, and the heavens send down dew upon the earth, so long shall the Union last.” And taking from his brow the crown on which blazoned the word “Union,” he placed it upon the Standard while the people, kneeling down, said, “Amen.”

The scene instantly began to fade and dissolve, and I at last saw nothing but the rising, curling vapor I at first beheld. This also disappearing, I found myself once more gazing upon the mysterious visitor, who, in the same voice I had heard before, said, “Son of the Republic, what you have seen is thus interpreted: Three great perils will come upon the Republic. The most fearful is the third, but in this greatest conflict the whole world united shall not prevail against her. Let every child of the Republic learn to live for his God, his land and the Union.” With these words the vision vanished, and I started from my seat and felt that I had seen a vision wherein had been shown to me the birth, progress, and destiny of the United States.

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