As somebody who was raised Methodist, I am woefully ignorant on most angelic matters. In all sincerity, the only angel I even remotely heard of was Gabriel the Archangel, during the Christmas season.

That changed when I was a junior in college. My fall semester of that year was a rough one, because in just September alone, I was dealing with a number of negative issues.

  • Homophobic encounters with different groups of people that I couldn’t predict
  • Sleep problems, most likely caused by an herbal supplement that was backfiring horribly
  • A deep-seated loneliness that worsened as September dragged on
  • Anxiety that was gradually increased by the aforementioned factors

I did manage to get through September, and all of that the nonsense that came with it, but it very much sucked the life out of me. I was so weary of random strangers verbally harassing me, nearly every week. However, my trust in God wasn’t shaken whatsoever, and I’m positive that He, shall we say, “arranged” the following to happen.

Somewhere on the Internet, I happened upon a page describing who Michael is, and what his specific spiritual role is. Essentially, he is a strong soldier of God whose basic role is a protector. Well, I read that, and it clicked with me. After reading that, I hesitantly began “talking” to Michael the Archangel. Doing so resulted in the following dream.

The Green Statue

In a dream I had on October 13 of that year, I was flying around the neighborhood surrounding my childhood church. As I approached the supermarket in the area, all of a sudden, a massive Catholic church with many spires appeared behind it, looming high into the sky. On one of the topmost spires was a green-tinted statue of Michael, in what could be called his “general” appearance: a young man with short, wavy hair, in battle armor and carrying a sword.

I remember flying up to his statue, and sheepishly saying “I’m sorry that I’m not Catholic.”

Back then, I really meant that. I think I really wished that I was a Catholic. I suppose it was a comforting notion.

After that, I didn’t “pray” to Michael (he isn’t God, and if I had done so, I would’ve felt like I was worshipping him; that’s a big no-no). Rather, I pretty much talked to him like he was my big brother. Basically, I asked him to keep an eye out for me, because my harassers were still out there.

I’m glad that God helped me get to know this angel, because after that, my stress about the homophobes on my campus dropped dramatically.

I wouldn’t dream about Michael until more than 6 months later. When I did, however, I had a significantly profound experience with him.

The Seven Names on the Wall

Some background is necessary for this one.

For starters, I had this dream on May 5 of that year, which also happened to be National Prayer Day.

Also, this dream occurred after I awoke within myself a deep desire to use my writing skills to pursue justice for others.

Now then.

In this dream, I was this time inside of a Catholic church. I can’t say if I was somehow in the same church as the dream before though.

On the wall before me was a plaque that faintly resembled “The Last Supper”. However, instead of a single picture, it contained seven different names in a language that I struggled to comprehend. My best guess is that I was reading a Biblical language, such as Hebrew, Greek or Aramaic.

I tried to read the first three names, and I utterly failed. At the fourth one, I seemed to have a bit more luck. As I squinted at the name, I tried to pronounce it. I mumbled “Miquel…no…wait…MICHAEL!”

I was overjoyed. It made perfect sense to me what this was. It had to be a list of the seven Archangels, whom I’ve heard of before. Just after saying his name out loud, I sensed somebody to my left, and turned in that direction.

Standing in front of a podium was a young man, looking so peaceful. He had his eyes closed, and his head bowed, as if in prayer. His appearance was slightly androgynous, with rosy red cheeks, golden-blonde hair, and overall slim features. On top of that, he looked, quite literally, like a Christmas card angel. He was robed in white, with a golden halo and beautiful white wings.

It took me a second when I woke up to realize that I had seen Michael in person.

Boy, it was amazing. Not only that, but I felt blessed. I felt great, my energy levels were much higher than they had ever been that academic year.

My best guess about the symbolism of this dream is that he showed up as an affirmation of my journey to seek justice. The whole thing made me think of that one Beatitude about justice, about how those who thirst for it will always find it.

From Stranger to Big Brother

That summer, I spent bonding time with God, and to a lesser extent, Michael the Archangel, as I watched more injustice issues unfold across the nation. I was distressed, to say the least, because it seemed to be an endless tide of pointless killings.

And once more, for some reason, I was struggling with loneliness again. It seems to come in waves, and this wave hit me rather hard. But whatever happened, God had a backup plan to conquer it. It seems, even today, that His plan involves sending Saint Michael to my side, to aid me as the big brother that I’ve never had.

The next time I saw Saint Michael in my dreams was during a vacation in the middle of summer. I had two back-to-back dreams of him, both presenting him as a patient big brother figure.

In the first dream, the setting was a dystopian universe where cities had become run down. In a dilapidated building that may have once been a hotel, I was fleeing from corrupt government agents. I fled to a stairwell, at the highest floor of the building, which could’ve easily been 20 stories. My logic was that I could easily jump down all the way to the bottom to escape. Well, halfway through jumping down, my rationality kicked in, and I was left desperately hanging onto the railing for sheer life.

At this moment, I thought to call on Michael to help me, which I did. The instant I did so, at the very bottom of the stairwell, a tall young man in a blue work uniform appeared, smiling up at me with a look of utmost love and patience. The best part was that the, shall we say, “dream camera” panned in close to him, showing that on his shirt was the name “Michael”.

Seeing this, and knowing that I could trust him, I let myself fall, and the camera focused on Michael, and six other guys looking up at me as I fell. They had their arms outstretched, and they all caught me with ease, laughing heartily with me as they gently laid me on my feet.

In the dream immediately following this, I was in a terrible argument with my Mom over something petty, on what looked like a stage with a beautiful backdrop of a Roman villa. For some reason, I chose to horribly insult her, leaving her devastated, and me filled with shame. I fled the scene, and flew towards the backdrop. As I approached it, the backdrop transformed into an actual place, with a long corridor of gorgeous Roman homes lining the cobbled street.

I talked with Michael in my head, and wearily asked him if I could talk to him in person about my horrible fight with my Mom. I heard the words “come closer”, and I headed towards the end of the street, where an open square with benches was.

Sitting on one of the benches were two young men dressed in centurion attire, looking right at me as I approached them. One of them had a softer appearance, almost feminine, and was gently smiling at me. The other was more masculine, with an almost sternly intense expression on his face. They stood up as I walked into the square, and the next thing I knew, I was in the arms of the masculine soldier, as the other soldier watched on quietly.

In the embrace of the soldier, who I knew was Michael, I softly asked him if he would be comfortable asking God to help me with whatever issue this dream was focused on. I woke up a few moments later, and could still feel the embrace for a while.

From what I could see, it’s likely that in the first dream, I somehow encountered all seven archangels at once, which is an overwhelming thought. In the second, I got a hug from Michael after a traumatizing dream scene. The other soldier who watched us was probably Gabriel.

A Gentle Antidote to Loneliness

After this, my dream encounters of Michael the Archangel always had him acting as a strong, silent older brother figure who seemed to always appear whenever my loneliness would become debilitating.

Ever since that summer, the most recurring theme in my dreams of Michael is me finding myself in his big brotherly embrace, and silently comforting me. Also, he no longer appears as a soldier, but, in all seriousness, in street clothes. That is to say, he’s dressed in hoodies, sweatpants, the usual casual wear for young men.

For example, during a particularly bad moment of loneliness, I had two back-to-back dreams of Michael first wrapping me up in an even tighter hug than before, and holding me until the dream ended.

The day after, I had a dream that I was lying down on the grass around my neighborhood, quiet and feeling empty. Michael walked up next to me, and silently laid down next to me, placing his hand on my back and comforting me.

What Does this All Mean?

Only God knows why I seem to be so close-knit with Michael the Archangel. What I do know is that nowadays, I’m generally more calm and at peace than I used to be. I look forward to the future encounters that I’m meant to have with this loving angel.