I typically don’t like the “prophecy” genre in speeches and blogs. I’ll try to be concise with details and avoid excess superlatives.
I was dreaming, on a Bible college campus, watching the Dean make his rounds. He had a complex system of inventing rules “after the fact”, but he’d always get away with enforcing them as if everyone should have known better, when, actually, he was just playing “gotcha”. Student leaders and staff helped him. And, generally, he just made everyone angry—a professional ass.
I decided to reason with him, to convince him to stop giving injustice, to inject as much common sense into this lunatic as possible, even though it would be a very small amount, if I could inject any common sense at all. But nothing worked. As I looked at him, his face, not his voice, was my grandfather’s face—with two exceptions. He had three or four warts on his face. · · · →

