TALES FROM THE RAPTURE: My Dream of Jeannie

He sat in that same chair as he had for these many long months now staring up at the bottle on the mantle. These should have been their golden years; the ones he and his now departed wife had saved up and looked forward to. But now she was gone and, despite her wishes for a standard burial, he had had her cremated and her ashes stored in the bottle that he now gazed at forlornly.

It wasn't just any old bottle either, but one of those old 60's vintage Jim Beam decanters that had been painted up to look like the one in the old "I Dream of Jeannie" TV series. His wife's name was Jennifer, and her friends had called her Jennie, but he had decided to call her Jeannie after the character on the show. She was even blonde like the actress Barbara Eden who starred in the show. He and his wife had loved that old show, and he could think of no better tribute to her than to have her ashes stored in the Jeannie bottle that now sat atop the mantle. At least, he felt, he had some part of her there with him in his now long and lonely retirement.

She had been an avowed Bible-believing Christian though, and had let her husband know how she felt about cremation. Some obscure Old Testament verse about someone who had burned somebody's bones into lime or some such. She also believed in the rapture. This was a resurrection of believers' bodies before something called the "Tribulation Period" on Earth to be reunited with their souls and taken to heaven in a transformed and glorified state to be with God.

He had heard her recite this in various forms over the years, and had even attended a service where it was discussed at length by some visiting evangelist or other. He thought it a quite fanciful belief for more superstitious folk less educated than he; not that he considered his wife uneducated mind you. He had never quite been able to fathom why she of all people believed this given their long talks together. Still, it seemed to give her comfort, and her mind was firmly made up, so he let it pass.

These thoughts always ran over and over through his mind as he sat in his rocker-recliner day after day staring up at the beautiful bottle with his wife's ashes entombed within. She had laughed when he'd first suggested having her cremated and her ashes stored in a Jeannie bottle. "You just want me to come back as Jeannie to be at your beck and call," she'd once said. They'd both laughed at this. He got the impression that she attributed it to his ignorance and superstition. How ironic when he in turn considered her beliefs in the same light. Now there was nothing left for him but to wile away the endless hours of the seemingly endless empty days thinking of her.

When would his life be over? What if she had been right about all this? What if . . . what was that? He had felt a slight tremble beneath him that grew stronger and stronger. Was this an earthquake? This area never had a history of earthquakes; that was one of the reasons they had moved here.

All of a sudden he heard a loud, rolling noise, sounding like something best described as trumpeting thunder, followed by three loud booming soounds that almost passed for words . . . he couldn't be sure. He had been gripping the arms of his chair ever since it had begun and his knuckles were white. He had been looking around the room in wonder, afraid to get up and look out the window for fear he might fall. At his age, that wouldn't be a very pleasant experience.

He quickly glanced back up at the mantle. The bottle had rocked slightly at the first tremors, but was now swaying dangerously close to the edge. It mustn't fall! He couldn't bear it if it broke and scattered his beloved's ashes all over the floor! Oh, why had he put it there anyway! He should jump up and grab it before it falls, but he couldn't move as fast as he used to, or would need to in this case.

Time seemed to move very slowly now as he watched they bottle sway to the rocking of the Earth, but avoid falling. Then it racked one last time to a violent jolt and fell. . . .

It landed on the floor with a thud, but didn't break. They made 'em solid in those days he thought. But then he noticed that the top had popped out somehow. The corked top lay beside the bottle as a cloud of ash streamed out. He watched in amazement as the cloud rose into the air and coalesced into . . . he couldn't believe his eyes . . . it was his wife! There she stood more beautiful than ever! She was clearly younger than when she had passed away, but now had a glow about her that he had never seen. She seemed to be clothed in white. She smiled briefly at him, and then vanished completely.

It was over in an instant, even though it had seemed longer. Had he seen what he thought he'd seen? He blinked hie eyes and shook his head to clear it. The tremors had ceased as abruptly as they'd started. There on the floor lay the bottle that had contained his wife's ashes. The cork lay beside it on the clean floor. Good, nothing had been spilled. He slowly rose out of his chair and made his way over to the bottle to pick it up, and return it to its place.

As he knelt down on the floor and picked up the bottle, it seemed lighter. He peered inside it through the top. It was empty! But how? There was absolutely nothing on the floor beside the cork. His mind again flashed back to what he's just seen. Was it real? Had it actually happened? Had his wife been resurrected as a . . . no, that was ridiculous. Jeannie, hie Jeannie, a real Jeannie?! Was that even possible? No, if that were the case, she wouldn't have just disappeared like that. What had happened? What was going on?

He glanced over at the TV. News, that's what he needed. He recorked the bottle and replaced it on the mantle, then walked over to his chair and retrieved the remote. He turned the TV on and someone was speaking from behind a desk with the EBS logo flashing below. "Once again, a major earthquake has struck all over the world. This is truly unprecedented. Millions of people have simply vanished from everywhere leaving nothing but a pile of clothes behind. No one has apparently been injured from what we can tell from the reports we are getting, apart from those who have simply disppeared. Holes have appeared all across the globe in cemeteries and various other locales and witnesses have claimed that they have seen dead people rising out of them and streaking off into the sky."

It had happened. He hadn't imagined it. He had seen his wife! She had risen out of the bottle as a young and beautiful woman and had disappeared. Where was she? Would she come back to him? He had prayed and dreamed of her returning as he'd seen her do. Now where had she gone? She would return to him, he knew it. She had to. Why wouldn't she? He sat back down in his chair and stared up at the bottle now back on the mantle. He would wait. She would return. He would just have to wait.

The TV droned on in the background, but he was oblivious to it. "Martial law has been declared by the World President who spoke from the new temple in Jerusalem shortly after the superquake. 'We have eliminated the agitators from amongst us who would stand in the way of a new, prosperous future,' he said. 'Now we can build the world we've always wanted.'"*

He would wait, and she would return to him. She just had to go off and do something, and then she would return. His Jeannie would return. . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.

For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.

So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

I Corinthians 15:51-55 (KJV).

And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.

II Thessalonians 2:11 (KJV).

*See Book Quote below.