Whether it is because of an overactive imagination or the wish of the gods, I cannot deny the things that I sometimes see when I look into the sky at cloud formations. Nature sometimes makes a great artist, forming outlines of creatures and whatever the mind of the beholder can make. Sometimes also, Nature becomes a good storyteller, using images to relay a narrative into the mind of the beholder.
I see many formations in the clouds. Many are without meaning and a few reach into my subconscious to impact my mind more than I expect. This particular sighting that you are about to read, strange as it seems, is one of them.
On 5th May 2023, I had a strange sighting in the sky, a short story told by cirrocumulus cloud formations. There were high-altitude clouds appearing as small, white, rounded patches or ripples in the sky. I am going to speak of these sightings as though they were actual happenings.
From the right of my view, these cirrocumulus clouds were like people marching away, tailing one another in the fashion of slaves being led away. There were people of different sizes and stock, including little children. The heads of some of these figures were bent facing down in submission and resignation, as though they were in anguish, brooding over the fate that lies ahead of them. The space between each figure was too narrow it will easily be imagined that they had no control over their movement, having been crowded together in chains by whatever or whoever was leading them away. On the left of my view, it was not evident where these slaves were moving to. The sky on my left was clear and blue.
Because I was not expecting to see anything more other than this cirrocumulus cloud-formed procession, I quickly took a picture of it and shared it with members of the chat group of The Sophia Club. Not one of them saw what I saw despite the image still having the outline of the shapes of people I thought I saw, making the iconic slave procession. I did not expect that others would see what I saw. It probably was for my eyes alone.
A few minutes later, more clouds emerged. In the central position of my view, I saw a large figure, quite larger than the small shapes that the cirrocumulus clouds formed that looked like people. This larger image had a darker hue and looked like a man. Its figure was human and occupied more space in the frame I was seeing than the whitish clouds. It was god-like. This god sat in a lotus position and what is to be his face was covered with white clouds while what appeared as his body was in grey or light dark colours. It was as though the head of this god was deliberately veiled by the white clouds.
Then, as I looked, I saw that this grey god bore another figure in his bosom. A stranger picture that got me immersed in what the clouds were telling me. On the bosom of this giant god-like figure was what looked like a man, dead. This dead man did not have the face of a human. His face was like that of an insect, a grasshopper at best, and I could see only his right hand hanging limply away from the bosom of the father bearing him. I did not see his legs because the other part of his figure ended in white clouds. This other part of the image of the dead man on the bosom of the god-like figure looked like the destination of the movement of the images of the slaves seen on the right side of my view. It is as though the slaves were bound to be absorbed into the god figure through the body of the dead man he bore in his arms.
The interpretation of the cloud narrative was very disturbing to me. While I went deeper in imagination staring at these clouds, I saw in the clouds, above the head of the god, on the left of my view, what first appeared as a latch that was opened out into space or out into somewhere and this latch morphed into a door. It was as though there was a door in the clouds. Before morphing, the latch prompted me to imagine that this world could be some kind of enclosure with discreet doors in the sky acting as exits, and I had just seen one.
I had not finished having these thoughts when the latch morphed into a horizontal doorway that vanished into an image of what looked like a ship. This ship was small compared to the size of the god. The ship was moving from left to right and seemed to be heading through the backside of the god who was still bearing his dead son on his bosom. Then, on the forecastle of the ship, on the right side of my view, I saw a woman sitting and beckoning at me without words. I thought she was in command of the ship until I saw at her back the head of a man that was made of the brightest cloud formation. This ship sailed behind the god. It was as if the ship was making an escape from the control of the god which had his dead son on his bosom into which the slaves were been absorbed.
Then, the clouds faded and the reels they were displaying.
I was raptured not by what I saw but by the meaning they bore to me. To say the least, I was very disturbed. The meaning was not thought over by my mind, they were impressed on me, spontaneously. The god impressed on my mind was the Christian God with the murdered son, Jesus, and the slave-looking people are Christians or people that were becoming Christians. The ship looked like an anti-christian/anti-slavery movement taking people away from the seeming bondage that these slaves were being absorbed into through the murdered son of the god.
