Israel, December 6, 1970: I keep having the same dream about an island with a mountain on it. On top of the mountain is a large villa, or mansion, and at the foot of the mountain is a cove with a beach.

It seems like I’m always having a problem getting to and from this island. Sometimes I’m struggling to catch a boat, and sometimes I’m in the water, swimming. Usually I have a hard time climbing from the beach to the villa. When I say mountain, I don’t mean a snowcapped mountain, nor do I mean a little hill. It’s only about one or two thousand feet high, but precipitous, and you really have to do some rugged climbing to get up the path that leads from the beach to the top.

From the top there is a gorgeous view of the blue water, and I can see the mainland off in the distance. Not far away is a small resort town.

Last night the dream was clearer than it’s ever been. This time we drove in from the rear of the villa, and a fairly short, refined, middle-aged woman with curly neck-length blonde hair invited us in.

En route from Israel to England, April 19, 1971: After deciding to stop off in Cyprus, I had a flash that we might find the mountain island villa there. In fact, my wife, Maria, had so much faith that my recurring dream was based on reality that she asked people and looked for clues everywhere we went.

We eventually heard of Kyrenia, a small resort town on the north shore that seemed to fit the description. Everyone we talked to about it urged us to go there, saying it was the most beautiful part of Cyprus, but we were so busy packing and winding up our affairs in preparation for our departure in two or three days that I didn’t see how we could possibly have time to run around chasing rainbows. Maria insisted, however, and now I’m glad she did!

Despite my reluctance, we took an early morning bus to Kyrenia. We rolled quietly through the beautiful countryside until we caught our first glimpse of the north shore, where the mountains meet the sea. As we wound along the mountainsides above the bright blue Mediterranean, our eyes eagerly darted in every direction, hoping to spot the villa in my dream—but no such villa.

Finally we crawled through the narrow streets of Kyrenia, an old fishing village that is now a tourist destination. As we walked toward the water looking for a scenic place to eat lunch, our eyes caught sight of the ancient castle of Kyrenia, towering out of the water, and we decided to investigate.

Castles and castle societies have always interested me, and we were soon fascinated with this old crusader fortress and its network of passageways, meeting rooms, dining halls, soldiers’ barracks, chapels, security towers and turrets, gates and fortifications. At last we came out on the top of the wall, seeking a way back down to the waterfront.

There, before my widened eyes, lay one of the very scenes from my dream—the small town and marina, the likes of which I had never seen anywhere else!

I remembered well the shops and cafés along the boardwalk on my left, and all the small boats docked on the right. Even the chairs and tables and umbrellas of the little sidewalk cafés were familiar to me, as well as the milling tourists and the men wearing little blue hats, who I had thought in my dream were sailors, but who turned out to be UN troops keeping the peace between the Greek and Turkish Cypriots.

Despite the fact that I had now seen the town and harbor from my dream, it was still hard to believe that the villa actually existed. I think I feared disappointment as much as anything, so was almost afraid to look any further.

But I knew exactly which direction the villa was from the harbor, along with the approximate distance, as this was all very clear to me in the dream, and I finally decided that a quick search would settle the matter one way or the other.

We hailed a taxi, and told the driver that we would give him directions as we went. We explained that we were looking for a large mountaintop villa, somewhere to our left and overlooking the sea. He insisted that there was no such place, but we were determined and had him keep driving. When I felt that we had gone too far, we stopped at a café to ask for directions.

How do you tell people that you’re looking for a place that you saw in a dream, and that belongs to someone you met in a dream? I didn’t exactly know, but I began describing the place in detail to the manager of the café, his waiter, and the taxi driver. They discussed it at length between themselves, but couldn’t think of anything.

Then I described the owner of the house in detail—a fairly short woman in her fifties with blonde hair, who spoke English with an accent and lived alone. The description must have rung a bell, because suddenly our driver exclaimed, “Oh, yes! That would have to be Mrs. Goldstein! I’d forgotten about her place. It’s the only one on that side, and you can’t even see it from the road.” So we clambered back into the cab, and were on our way.

Only a mile or two from the town, he turned onto a small dirt road, and I immediately recognized it as the very road on which we had approached the villa in my last dream. Sure enough, there was the villa!

There was a light in the window, so hardly knowing what to expect, we told our driver to wait as we knocked. The door opened, and Mrs. Goldstein greeted us—the very woman I had met in the dream!

 Of course, how to introduce ourselves was somewhat of a problem. By this time it was not the best hour to make a social call to a stranger, but we gave our names and told her a little about ourselves, trying not to sound entirely crazy. We rambled on for a while, talking about everything else but why we had come. Finally I took the plunge!

There’s that frightening moment when you stand teetering on the tip of the diving board, high above the water, wondering if you are going to hit it just right and if you will survive. Then you lean forward, and gravity takes over. There is that thrilling, suspenseful moment as you fall through the air, not knowing exactly what awaits you—and then you hit the water with a splash! Suddenly you’re gliding deep below the surface and curving beautifully upward, bursting out into the air with a sense of great achievement and satisfaction. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be! You made it! You came through safe and sound to live and try again!
Still not knowing what her reaction would be, I finally told Mrs. Goldstein that I had first seen her home and met her in a dream. And believe it or not, she accepted that explanation and received us into her home with the warmest of hospitality!

She introduced us to Nicole, a friend of hers who happened to be visiting that evening and had overheard the whole story. The conversation moved on to exciting accounts of other supernatural experiences that each of us had had.

 Here we were talking to the very lady in the very house I had seen in a dream, and we had earlier eaten supper at the very village I had also seen in the dream! We talked on into the night, and Mrs. Goldstein insisted on taking us to a nearby hotel so we could return in the morning and meet some of her other friends. I felt like I was still in the same dream, and later that night I asked Maria to pinch me to see if I would wake up—but I wasn’t sleeping. We had actually been there!

The next day, after visiting again with Nicole and a few other friends, we finally had some time alone with Mrs. Goldstein. I had waited for this chance, as I wanted to talk with her about the real purpose of our visit.

As the golden sunset reflected on the beautiful water below, I got up the courage to ask the big question. “Mrs. Goldstein, maybe you can tell us, why are we here? It must be very important to the Lord, because I’ve been having this dream since long before I even knew I would visit Cyprus.”

Mrs. Goldstein broke down and wept. “I lost my husband three years ago,” she replied, “and I’ve been very lonely ever since. I think God did it for my sake. He must have put you on my spiritual plane or channel, so that you could come and help me in some way.”
I knew that meant she hoped we would pray for her, and we did. We also told her how much the Lord must love her to have brought us so far to see her. She confessed that she’d considered suicide, but had been stopped by fear of death. We told her of the love of Jesus, and that it was His love that had brought us to her, His love that had done many miracles in our lives, and His love that we live to share with others. Mrs. Goldstein listened attentively, and finally opened her hurting heart to the healing balm of the Lord’s love.
What lengths God will go to in order to lead us to those He wants to reach with His love! His love and care know no bounds!