I had a vision. I was looking at a chessboard; then, I became a part of the chessboard. I walked through this large beautiful marble, cold, stony floor at night. There were life-sized pieces, then on both sides, black and white chess pieces fell. First the king, then a queen, then another king. They all begin to fall. They were replaced by pawns and bishops. I could hear ticking, ticking, ticking, as the board circled like a clock, then the board was forever different.
Whats Coming in 2022
This World Prediction is starting to happen. Please pray for the Queen. This is a very specific prediction that describes the entire year. The core message above describes a dramatic shift in the global leadership. The message below describes a brisk, cold, muddy, wet year. Not a happy one at all. One in which a Rawhide Thug takes over the world, this Jokester of a leader, followed by the tragic description of the broken Golden Roman soldier, and finally Death himself dominate the world stage. The message ends with the old voice of World War taking over the mic. Wow not a nice year, however in one air of good news I do predict that the great Pandemic I predicted back in 2019 would finally start ending. The prediction:
As the medium who predicted Covid19 in October of 2019, months before it struck the world, I can now say with great relief, this Pandemic is ending, but as it reads, celebration is next to nothing. The sum of what 2022 brings: The Year of Reflection (Written Version)
I had a vision from the sky-high above of a large horse race track, old, worn, outdated. The day was brisk, cold, the ground muddy and wet from the day before. I could see the horses in the stables breathing the cold fog of the morning. On the ground was a wooden plaque that read 1919. Then a band of Rawhide Thugs got on the racetrack, dressed in old-style cowboy outfits for the outlaws. The first face I could make out was a familiar one; it was Death himself, I crossed his image before, and I am familiar with his horse. The second racer had a joker’s face; painted with makeup that was smeared as if trying to remove it,, he was dressed more like Barnum and Bailey. He had a twisted grin and filthy dirty hands. The third racer eludes me, his face was horribly scarred with cuts and burns. He also had smeared makeup to cover his scars, he also had an old gold Roman face mask, that was broken. All three raced ragefully towards the finish line. Mud flung from all sides, swinging across the tracks. How many rounds are there? Soon all three would pass the finish line. An announcer of the race came over the loudspeaker. “Thank God, the race is ending now. It’s coming to its ending.” in this old WW1 voice. I felt relief as the finish line flag wagged in the brisk air; this was ending.
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