Tag: St. John Bosco

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [III]

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [III]

…continued

The Road To Hell [III].

Entering the Dwelling of the Reprobates.

This is the third installment of the dream of St. John Bosco on Hell.

A new group of boys came hurling down the path, and the portals opened momentarily.

“You should enter as well,” my guide said to me.

I pulled back in horror. I could not wait to return to the Oratory to warn the boys lest others might be lost as well.

My guide, however, insisted, “Come, you will learn much. But first tell me: Do you wish to go alone or with me?” He asked this to make me realize that I was not strong enough to go alone and, therefore, needed his friendly assistance.

I replied: “Alone inside this horrible place without the solace of your goodness? How will I ever be able to find my way out without your help?”

Then a thought came to my mind and raised my spirits. I said to myself: Before a person is condemned to Hell, he must pass by His judgment. And I still have not presented myself before the Supreme Judge.

After that I said resolutely: “Then, let us go in”.

We entered that narrow, horrible corridor, whizzing through it with lightning speed. Threatening inscriptions appeared under a veiled light over each one of the inner gateways. The corridor opened into a vast, gloomy courtyard with a small but incredibly thick door at the far end. Above it we could read this inscription: ‘Ibunt impii in ignem aeternu’ – ‘The impious shall go into the everlasting fire’. [Mt 25: 46] The walls all around were filled with inscriptions.

I asked my guide if I could read them, and he answered, “Do as you wish”.

Then I examined everything.

In one place it was written: ‘Dabo ignem in carnes eorum ut comburantur in sempiternum Cruciabuntur die ac nocte in saecula saeculorum’‘I will give fire to their flesh and they will burn for ever. They will be tormented day and night forever and ever’. [Judith 16: 21].

In another place: ‘Hic univérsitas malorum per omnia saecula saeculorum’ – ‘In this place all the evil ones are put forever and ever’.

In others: ‘Nullus est hic ordo, sed horror sempiternus inhabitat’ ‘There is no order in this place, but only eternal horror dwells here’. [Job 10: 22].

‘Fumus tormentorum suorum in aeternum ascendit’ ‘The smoke of their torments rises forever’ [Apoc 14: 11].

Non est pax impiis’‘For the impious there is no peace’. [Isaiah 47: 22].

‘Clamor et stridor dentium’ – ‘Here is weeping and the gnashing of teeth’. [Mt 8:12].

As I moved around reading the inscriptions, my guide, who had been standing in the center of the courtyard, came up to me and said:

“From here on, no one may have a companion to help him, a friend to comfort him, a heart to love him, a compassionate glance or a benevolent word to sustain him. All this is gone forever. Do you want to see and experience these things yourself?”

“I only want to see!” I answered.

“Then come with me,” my friend replied, and, taking me by the hand, he led me to that small door and opened it. It opened onto a corridor at whose far end was a room with a large window that had a single crystal pane reaching from the pavement to the ceiling, which allowed the observer to look through. As soon as I entered the room, I felt an indescribable terror and stopped.

Ahead of me, I could see an immense cavern that extended far ahead ending in deep caves dug into the bowels of a mountain. They were all ablaze, but it was not an earthly fire with leaping tongues of flames, but a fire that made everything incandescent and white because of its high temperature. The entire cavern – walls, ceiling, floor, iron, stones, wood and coal – was white and glossy. That fire surpasses the fire of earth in heat thousands and thousands of times. Yet it did not consume what it burned or reduce it to ashes. It is impossible for me to describe that cavern in all its astounding reality.

While I looked appalled at that place of torment, I saw a lad, oblivious of everything around him, arriving with an indescribable momentum. He emitted a most shrilling scream, like one who is about to fall into a cauldron of liquid bronze. Then, jumping into the center of the fire, he too became incandescent like the entire cavern and perfectly motionless, while the echo of his dying wail lingered for an instant more.

Terribly frightened, I stared briefly at that unfortunate youth for a while. He seemed to be one of my Oratory boys, one of my sons.

“Isn’t he one of my youth?” I asked my guide. “Isn’t he X?”

“Yes, that is right,” he answered.

“Why is he so still, so incandescent without being consumed?”

“You choose to see. Do not speak. Observe and you will see. For, ‘omnis enim igne salietur et omnis victima sale salietur’‘Everyone shall be immobilized by the fire. Every victim shall be conserved with salt'” [Mk 9: 48].

As I looked again, another boy came hurling down into the cavern in a despairing fury and at a lightning speed. He too was from the Oratory. As he fell, he remained there immobile. He too emitted a shriek of pain that blended with the last echo of the scream that came from the youth who had preceded him.

Other boys kept hurling down with the same impetus, all screamed, and then all became equally motionless and incandescent, like those who had preceded them. I noticed that the first became immobile with one hand and one foot up into the air, the second boy was bent towards the floor. Others had their feet up or their faces glued to the floor. Still others supported themselves by only one foot or hand, others were sitting, standing, kneeling or lying on their backs or sides, their hands clutching their hair.

Briefly, the scene resembled a large statuary group of youth set in every painful posture imaginable. Other lads hurled into that same furnace. Some I knew, others were strangers to me. Then I recalled what is written in Scriptures to the effect that as one falls into Hell, so he shall remain forever. ‘Lignum, in quocumque loco cecíderit, ibi erit’ ‘In the place the wood falls, there it remains’. [Eccles 11:3].

As my astonishment increased, I asked my guide:

“When these boys run with such speed, do they not know they are coming here?”

“Oh, yes, they surely do! They have been warned a thousand times, but they still choose to rush into the fire because they do not detest sin and are loath to forsake it. Furthermore, they despise and reject Divine Mercy, which calls them to do penance. Thus provoked, Divine Justice harries them, hounds them and goads them on so that they cannot halt until they reach this place”.

“Oh, how terrible must be the desperation of these miserable boys who do not have any hope of leaving this place” – I exclaimed.

“If you really want to know their innermost frenzy and fury, go a little closer,” my guide remarked.

I took a few more steps, coming closer to the window, and looked inside. I saw that many of those poor wretches were savagely striking at each other causing terrible wounds; some were biting one another like mad dogs. Others were clawing their own faces and hands, tearing their own flesh and spitefully throwing it about. Just then the entire ceiling of that cavern became as transparent as crystal and revealed a patch of Heaven and their radiant companions safe for all eternity.

The reprobates gnashed their teeth with envy, hardly breathing because they had once ridiculed those just youth.

I asked my guide, “Why do we hear no sound?”

“Go closer!” he advised.

Pressing my ear to the crystal window, I heard some screaming and weeping among the horrible contortions, others were blaspheming and making imprecations against those saints. It was a tumult of voices and cries, shrill and confusion.

I asked: “What are they saying? What are they shouting?”

He replied: “When they recall the happy lot of their good companions, they are obliged to admit, ‘We fools deemed their lives to be madness, and their end without honor. Behold, how they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot is among the saints. Thus we passed up the path of truth’ [Wisdom 5:4-6].

They also cried out, ‘We wore ourselves out on the path of iniquity and destruction and walked through hard roads, but we ignored the way of the Lord. What has pride profited us? All those things have passed away like a shadow’ [Wis 5: 7-9].

“These are the melancholic canticles that sound here for all eternity. But screams, efforts, weeping are all useless. ‘Omnis dolor irruet super eos’ – ‘All sorrow fell over them! Here time is no more. Here is only eternity.’”

As, in utter terror, I viewed the condition of many of my boys, a thought suddenly struck me.

I asked: “How is it possible that these boys are damned? Last night they were still alive at the Oratory!” 

My guide answered: “The boys you see here are all dead to God’s grace. Were they to die now or persist in their evil ways, they would be damned. But we should not waste time. Let us go on”.

To be Continued…

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [II]

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [II]

…continued

The Road to Hell Part [II].

How to Avoid Hell: Obedience & Frequenting the Sacraments.

This is one article more in the series on the dream of St. John Bosco about Hell. It is the second installment.

We continued our descent, the road now becoming so frightfully steep that it was almost impossible to stand erect.

And then, at the bottom of this precipice, at the entrance of a dark valley, an enormous building loomed into sight, its towering portal, securely locked, facing our road. When we finally reached the bottom, I became smothered by a suffocating heat, and I could see a dense, green-tinted smoke lit by flashes of scarlet flames rising from behind those enormous walls which loomed higher than mountains.

“Where are we? What is this?” I asked my guide.

Locked Gates Of Hell.

“Read the inscription on that portal and you will understand”.

I looked up and read these words: ‘Ubi non est redemptio’ – ‘The place where there is no redemption‘. I realized that we were at the gates of Hell.

The guide led me all around this horrible place. At regular distances bronze portals like the first overlooked precipitous descents; on each was an inscription, such as: “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared for the Devil and his angels”. (Mt 25: 41) “Every tree that yielded not good fruit, shall be cut down, and shall be cast into the fire”. (Mt 7: 19).

I tried to copy them into my notebook, but my guide restrained me: “There is no need. You have them all in Holy Scripture. You even have some of them inscribed on your porticoes” – (portico is a porch leading to the entrance of a building, with a roof structure over a walkway, supported by columns or enclosed by walls). 

At such a sight, I wanted to turn back and return to the Oratory. As a matter of fact, I did try to start back, but my guide ignored my attempt.

After trudging down into a steep, never-ending ravine, we again came to the foot of the precipice facing the first portal. Suddenly my guide turned to me with a changed and startled face, pointing to something with his hand: “Look!” he said.

I looked up in terror and saw in the distance someone racing down the path at an uncontrollable speed. I kept my eyes on him, trying to identify him, and as he got closer, I recognized him as one of my boys. His disheveled hair was partly bristled and partly tossed back by the wind.

Pointing to Hell.

His arms were outstretched as though he were thrashing water to keep from going under. He wanted to stop, but could not. Tripping on the protruding stones, he kept falling even faster.

“Let us help him! Let us stop him!” I shouted, holding out my hands towards him.

“Let him go”, my guide replied.

“Why?”

“Do you not know how terrible God’s vengeance is? Do you think you can stop one who is fleeing from His blazing wrath?”

Meanwhile the youth had turned his fiery gaze behind him in an attempt to see if God’s wrath were still pursuing him. He precipitated himself toward the bottom of the ravine and crashed against that bronze portal as though he could find no other solution in his flight.

“Why was he looking back in terror?” I asked.

“Because God’s wrath pierces all the gates of Hell and will reach and torment him even amidst the fire!” 

As the boy crashed into the portal, it sprang open with a roar of chains. Instantly two, then ten, then one hundred, then near a thousand inner portals opened with a deafening screech as if moved by the crash of the youth, who was dragged in by an invisible, very rapid and irresistible gale.

As these bronze doors – one behind the other, though each at a considerable distance from the other – remained momentarily open, I saw far into the distance something like furnace jaws spouting fiery globes at the moment the youth hurtled into it. As swiftly as the portals had opened, they then clanged shut again.

For a third time I tried to take notes, this time to write down the name of that unfortunate lad, but the guide again took me by the arm and said, “Wait, and look again”.

I could see a new scene. Three other boys of ours precipitated themselves down the same path. Screaming in terror and with arms outstretched, they were rolling down it, one behind the other like massive rocks. I also recognized them as they too crashed against that first portal. It sprang open and so did the other thousand. The three lads were sucked into that endless corridor amidst a long-drawn, fading infernal echo, and then the portals clanged shut again. At intervals, many other lads came tumbling down after them.

I saw one unfortunate boy being pushed down the slope by an evil companion. Others fell alone or with others, arm in arm or side by side. Each of them bore the name of his sin on his forehead. I kept calling to them as they hurled down, but they did not hear me. Again the portals would open thunderously and slam shut with a rumble. Then, dead silence!

My guide explained to me: “These are some of the reasons many are eternally lost: Bad companions, bad books and bad habits”.

The traps I had seen earlier were indeed dragging the boys to ruin. Seeing so many falling into perdition, I cried out disconsolately, “If so many of our boys end up this way, we are working in vain. How can we prevent such tragedies?”

My guide replied: “This is their present state and that is where they would go if they were to die now”.

“Then, let me jot down their names so that I may warn them and put them back on the path to Heaven”.


“Do you really believe that some of them would reform if you were to warn them? At first, your warning might impress them, but soon they will forget it, saying,
‘It was just a dream,’ and they will do worse things than before. Others, realizing they have been unmasked, will receive the Sacraments, but this will be neither spontaneous nor meritorious since they are not upright. Others will go to confession because of a momentary fear of Hell, but will still be attached to sin”.

“Then is there no way to save these unfortunate lads? Please, advise me how they can be saved”.

Here is the advice: “They have superiors; let them obey them. They have rules; let them observe them. They have the Sacraments; let them receive them”.

To be Continued…

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [1]

Visions Of St. Don Bosco: The Road To Hell [1]


The Road to Hell [I].

Human Respect Leads to All Vices.

Given the extraordinary interest raised by The Letter from Beyond, which is a description of the judgment and condemnation of an actual woman who entered Hell, we decide to present to our readers a prophetic dream, St. John Bosco had in 1868. In it, the great Saint symbolically saw the dangers threatening the spiritual lives of boys of the Oratory, who were students of St. John Bosco. These multiple dangers occasioned the eternal perdition of many of them.

It is not difficult for parents and educators to transfer to their own children and students those metaphorical warnings given by God to the Saint. This dream is an admonition for adults to prevent the eternal perdition of the youth under their guidance.

I will post the entire dream in parts.

On Sunday night, May 3 [1868], the feast of the Patronage of Saint Joseph, Don Bosco resumed the narration of his dreams:

I have another dream to tell you, a sort of aftermath of those I told you last Thursday and Friday which totally exhausted me. Call them dreams or whatever you like. 
I told you of a frightful toad threatening to devour me on the night of April 17. When it finally vanished, a voice said to me: 

“Why don’t you tell them?”

I turned in that direction and saw a distinguished person standing by my bed. Since I did not understand the reason for that censure, I asked:

“What should I tell my boys?”

“What you have seen and heard in your last dreams and what you have wanted to know, which shall be revealed to you tomorrow night!” He then vanished.

The next day I was continuously worried about the miserable night in store for me, and when evening came, I did not want to go to bed. I sat at my desk browsing through books until midnight. The mere thought of having to contemplate more terrifying scenes thoroughly frightened me. However, with great effort, I finally went to bed.

In order not to sleep immediately, and fearful that my imagination might drag me into the previous dreams, I placed my pillow in a way that allowed me to practically sit on the bed. But, due to my tiredness, I unintentionally fell asleep.

Soon I saw the man who had appeared to me the previous night standing by my bed. He said to me: “Get up and follow me!” 


“For Heaven’s sake,”
I protested, “leave me in peace. I am exhausted! I have been tormented by a toothache for several days now and need rest. Besides, my last dreadful dreams have completely worn me out”.
I said this because this man’s apparition always means anxiety, fatigue and terror for me.

“Get up,” he repeated. “There is no time to lose”.

I complied and followed him. As we walked, I asked him:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Come and you will see”.

He led me to a vast, boundless plain, veritably a lifeless desert, with not a soul in sight, nor a tree or brook. Yellowed, dried-up vegetation added sadness to the desolate scene. I had no idea where I was or what was I to do. For a moment I even lost sight of my guide and feared that I was lost, utterly alone. Neither Fr. Rua nor Fr. Francesia nor anyone else was with me. When I finally saw my friend coming toward me, I sighed in relief and said:

“Where am I?”

“Come with me and you will find out!”

“Well, I will go with you”.

He led the way and I followed in silence, but after a long, dismal trudge, I began worrying whether I would ever be able to cross that vast expanse, what with my toothache and swollen legs. Suddenly I saw a road ahead. Breaking the silence I asked (him) my guide:

“Where to now?”

“This way,” he replied.

Path of roses


We took the road. It was beautiful, wide, and neatly paved. Both sides were lined with magnificent verdant hedges covered with gorgeous flowers. Roses in particular peeped everywhere through the leaves. At first glance, the road was level and comfortable, and so I ventured upon it without the least suspicion.

But after walking a while, I noticed that it almost imperceptibly kept sloping downward. Although it did not look at all steep, I found myself moving so swiftly downward that I felt I was effortlessly gliding through the air. Really, I was gliding and hardly using my feet. Our march was fast. Then the thought struck me that the return trip would be very long and arduous, I asked my friend:

“How shall we get back to the Oratory?”

“Do not worry,” he answered. “The Almighty wants you to come back to it. He Who leads you onward will also know how to lead you back”.

The road was increasingly sloping downward. As we continued on our way, flanked by banks of roses and other flowers, I became aware that the Oratory boys and a multitude of others whom I did not know were following me on the same road. Somehow I found myself in their midst.

As I was looking at them, I noticed that now one, now another, fell to the ground and then was instantly dragged by an unseen force toward a frightful opening in the ground, distantly visible, which led those unfortunate boys straight into a furnace.

“What makes these boys fall?” I asked my companion.

Take a closer look,” he replied. 

I did. Traps were everywhere, some close to the ground, others at eye level, but all well concealed. Unaware of their danger, many boys got caught, and as they tripped, they would sprawl to the ground, legs in the air. Then, when they managed to get back on their feet, they would run headlong down the road toward the abyss. Some got trapped by the head, others by the neck, hands, arms, legs, or sides, and were pulled down instantly toward that hole. These ground traps, fine as spiders’ webs and hardly visible, seemed very flimsy and harmless; yet I observed that every boy they snared, fell to the ground. 
Noticing my astonishment, the guide remarked:

“Do you know what that is?”

“Just some filmy fiber,” I answered.

“It seems like nothing,” he said, “but it is human respect”.

Seeing that many boys were being caught in those fibers, I asked:

“Why do so many get caught? Who pulls them down?” 


“Go nearer and you will see!”
he told me.

I followed his advice but saw nothing peculiar.

“Look closer,” he insisted.

I picked up one of the traps and tugged. I immediately felt some resistance. I pulled harder, only to feel that, instead of drawing the thread of the trap closer, I was being pulled down myself. I followed where the thread led and soon found myself at the mouth of a frightful cave. I halted, unwilling to venture into that deep cavern, and again I started pulling the thread toward me. It gave a little, but only through a great effort on my part. 
I kept tugging, and after a long while a huge, hideous monster emerged, clutching a rope to which all those traps were tied together. He was the one who instantly dragged down anyone who got caught in them.

It would be useless to match my strength with his, I said to myself. I would certainly lose. I could better fight him with the Sign of the Cross and with short ejaculations. 
Then I went back to my guide and he said to me:

“Now you know who he is”.

“I surely do! It is the Devil himself who places these traps to make my boys fall into Hell!” Carefully examining many of the traps, I saw that each bore an inscription: Pride, Disobedience, Envy, the Sixth Commandment, Theft, Gluttony, Sloth, Anger, and so on. Stepping back a bit to see which ones trapped the greater number of boys, I discovered that the most dangerous were those of impurity, disobedience and pride. In fact, these three were linked to together. Many other traps also did great harm, but not as much as the first two. Still watching, I noticed many boys running faster than others. 

“Why such haste?”
I asked.

Devil tempting with mirror of vanity
Bishops and Kings are tempted by the mirror of pride and vanity.

“Because they are being dragged by the snare of human respect”.

Looking even more closely, I spotted knives among the traps. A providential hand had put them there to cut oneself free. The bigger ones, symbolizing meditation, were for use against the trap of pride; others, not quite as large, symbolized spiritual reading well made. There were also two swords – one representing devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, especially through frequent Holy Communion, and the other devotion to the Blessed Virgin. There was also a hammer symbolizing confession, and other knives symbolizing devotion to St. Joseph, St. Aloysius and other Saints. By these means, quite a few boys were able to free themselves or evade capture.

Indeed, I saw two boys walking safely through all those traps without being caught, either becuase of good timing – getting past it before before the trap sprung on them – or by sliding out of it if they got caught. 

When my guide saw that I had observed everything, he made me continue along that rose-hedged road. But the farther we went, the scarcer the roses became. Long thorns began to appear, and soon there were no more roses. The hedges became sun-scorched, leafless and thorn-studded. Withered branches torn from the bushes were strewn along the roadbed, littering it with thorns and making it difficult to walk through.

We had come now to a gulch whose steep sides hid what lay beyond. The road, which increasingly sloped downward, was becoming ever more horrid, rutted and littered, bristling with rocks and boulders and making the march ever more difficult. 
I lost track of all my boys, most of whom had left this treacherous road for other paths.

I kept going, but the farther I advanced, the more arduous and steep the descent became, so that I tumbled and fell several times, lying prostrate until I could catch my breath. Now and then my guide supported me or helped me to rise. At every step my joints seemed to give way, and I thought my shinbones would snap. 
Panting, I said to my guide:

“My good fellow, my legs will not carry me another step. I just cannot go any farther”.
He did not answer but continued walking. Taking heart, I followed. Finally, seeing me soaked in perspiration and thoroughly exhausted, he led me to a little clearing alongside the road. I sat down, took a deep breath, and felt a little better. From my resting place, the road I had already traveled looked very steep, jagged and strewn with loose stones, but what lay ahead seemed so much worse that I closed my eyes in horror.

Let us go back,” I pleaded. “If we go any farther, how shall we ever get back to the Oratory? I will never make it up this slope”.

My guide sternly responded: “Now that we have come so far, do you want me to leave you alone?”

At this threat, I wailed:

“How can I survive without your help?” 

“Then follow me,” he added. 

To be continued

St. Don Bosco’s Vision Of The 2 Pillars In The Sea

St. Don Bosco’s Vision Of The 2 Pillars In The Sea

Saint Don Bosco Vision Of The Two Pillars In The Sea.

(Original Source: Biographical Memoirs, Vol. VII, Ch. 18, page 169 ff, Later reproduced in chapter 40 of the book “FORTY DREAMS OF ST. JOHN BOSCO“).

On May 14, 1862, Don Bosco had the joy of receiving the first religious professions of twenty-two members of the Sale­sian Society just constituted.

Then among the rest he told the newly professed that he had sure proofs that the Salesian Society, by God’s will, would prosper. And in speaking to them, he manifested an extraor­dinary satisfaction.

Some days later, on the 30th of May, he narrated the fol­lowing dream. It concerns the battles of the Church against many adversaries, the sufferings of the Pope and the final tri­umph through devotion to the Holy Eucharist and to Our Lady, Help of Christians.

I want to tell you a dream. It is true that he who is dream­ing is not reasoning, anyway I—who would even tell you my sins if I were not afraid that they would make you all run away and make the house tumble down—will tell you this for your spiritual profit. I had the dream some days ago.

The Dream.

Imagine yourselves to be with me on the seashore, or bet­ter, on an isolated rock and not to see any patch of land other than what is under your feet. On the whole of that vast sheet of water you see an innumerable fleet of ships in battle array. The prows of the ships are formed into sharp, spearlike points so that wherever they are thrust they pierce and completely destroy. These ships are armed with cannons, with lots of rifles, with incendiary materials, with other arms of all kinds, and also with books, and they advance against a ship very much bigger and higher than themselves and try to dash against it with the prows or to burn it or in some way to do it every possible harm.

The Ship of the Church.

As escorts to that majestic fully equipped ship, there are many smaller ships, which receive commands by signal from it and carry out movements to defend themselves from the opposing fleet.

The Two Columns.

In the midst of the immense expanse of sea, two mighty columns of great height arise a little distance, the one from the other. On the top of one, there is the statue of the Immac­ulate Virgin, from whose feet hangs a large placard with this inscription: Auxilium Christianorum—”Help of Christians“, on the other, which is much higher and bigger, stands a Host of great size proportionate to the column and beneath is another placard with the words: Salus Credentium—”Salva­tion of the Faithful.”

The Holy Father.

The supreme commander on the big ship is the Sovereign Pontiff. He, on seeing the fury of the enemies and the evils among which his faithful find themselves, determines to sum­mon around himself the captains of the smaller ships to hold a council and decide on what is to be done.

In Conclave.

All the captains come aboard and gather around the Pope. They hold a meeting, but meanwhile the wind and the waves gather in storm, so they are sent back to control their own ships.

There comes a short lull. For a second time the Pope gath­ers the captains together around him, while the flag-ship goes on its course. But the frightful storm returns.

The Pope stands at the helm and all his energies are directed to steering the ship towards those two columns, from the top of which and from every side of which are hanging numer­ous anchors and big hooks, fastened to chains.

The Battle.

All the enemy ships move to attack it, and they try in every way to stop it and to sink it. Some with writings or books or inflammable materials, of which they are full, others with guns, with rifles and with rams. The battle rages ever more relentlessly.

The enemy prows (battering rams on the front of the ships) thrust violently, but their efforts and impact prove useless. They make attempts in vain and waste all their labor and ammunition, the big ship goes safely and smoothly on its way. Sometimes it happens that, struck by formidable blows, it gets large, deep gaps in its sides, but no sooner is the harm done than a gentle breeze blows from the two columns and the cracks close up and the gaps are stopped immediately.

Destruction of the Enemy.

Meanwhile, the guns of the assailants are blown up, the rifles and other arms and prows are broken, many ships are shattered and sink into the sea. Then, the frenzied enemies strive to fight hand to hand, with fists, with blows, with blas­phemy and with curses.

All at once, the Pope falls gravely wounded. Immediately, those who are with him run to help him and they lift him up. A second time the Pope is struck, he falls again and dies. A shout of victory and of joy rings out amongst the enemies, from their ships an unspeakable mockery arises.

A New Pope.

But hardly is the Pontiff dead than another Pope takes his place. The pilots, having met together, have elected the Pope so promptly that the news of the death of the Pope coincides with the news of the election of the successor. The adver­saries begin to lose courage.

Haven of Rest.

The new Pope, putting the enemy to rout and overcoming every obstacle, guides the ship right up to the two columns and comes to rest between them. He makes it fast with a light chain that hangs from the bow to an anchor of the column on which stands the Host, and with another light chain which hangs from the stern, he fastens it at the opposite end to another anchor hanging from the column on which stands the Immaculate Virgin.

Rout of the Enemy.

Then a great convulsion takes place. All the ships that until then had fought against the Pope’s ship are scattered, they flee away, collide and break to pieces one against another. Some sink and try to sink others. Several small ships that had fought gallantly for the Pope race to be the first to bind themselves to those two columns.

Many other ships, having retreated through fear of the bat­tle, cautiously watch from far away the wrecks of the bro­ken ships having been scattered in the whirlpools of the sea, they in their turn sail in good earnest to those two columns, and, having reached them, they make themselves fast to the hooks hanging down from them and there they remain safe, together with the principal ship, on which is the Pope. Over the sea there reigns a great calm.

Don Bosco Explains:

At this point Don Bosco asked Don Rua:

“What do you think of the story?” Don Rua answered: 

“It seems to me that the Pope’s ship might mean the Church, of which he is the head. The ships, men, the sea, this world. Those who defend the big ship are the good, lovingly attached to the Holy See. The others are her enemies, who try with every kind of weapon to annihi­late her. The two columns of salvation seem to be devotion to Mary Most Holy and to the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.”

Don Rua did not speak of the Pope who fell and died, and Don Bosco also was silent about him. He simply added: 

“You are right! Only I ought to correct one expression. The enemy ships are persecutions. The most serious trials for the Church are near at hand. That which has been so far is almost noth­ing in the face of that which must befall. Her enemies are represented by the ships that tried to sink the principal ship if they could.

Only two means are left to save her amidst so much confusion: DEVOTION TO MARY MOST HOLY and FREQUENT COMMUNION, making use of every means and doing our best to practice them and having them practiced everywhere and by everybody.”

*(Don Bosco did not give any other explanations about this dream).

%d bloggers like this: