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Become a Promoter of Saint John Bosco: https://saintjohnbosco.net/promoter-of-saint-john-bosco/
On May 26, 1862, Saint John Bosco had promised the boys that he would tell them something pleasant on the last, or second to the last day of the month, and so at the “Good Night Talk” on May 30, he narrated this parable, or allegory, as he chose to call his dreams:
A few nights ago, I had a dream that I would like to tell you about. It’s true, dreams are nothing but dreams, but still, I’ll tell them to you for your spiritual benefit. Try to picture yourselves with me on the seashore or, better still, on an outlying cliff with no other land in sight. The vast expanse of water is covered with a formidable array of ships in battle formation, prows fitted with sharp, spear-like spars capable of breaking through any defense. All are heavily armed with cannons, incendiary bombs, firearms, and other explosives. They are all heading toward one stately ship, mightier than them all. As they close in, they try to ram it, set it on fire, and cripple it as much as possible.
A flotilla escort shields this stately vessel, and the winds and waves are with the enemy. Amid this endless sea, two solid columns soar high into the sky a short distance apart. At the very top of one is a statue of the Immaculate Virgin, at whose feet a large inscription reads: "Auxilium Christianorum," Help of Christians; on top of the other, far loftier and sturdier, supports a Sacred Host proportional in size to the column and bears beneath it the inscription "Salus Credentium," Salvation of believers.
The commander of the great ship is the Roman Pontiff. Seeing the enemy’s fury, and his auxiliary ships’ grave predicament, he summons his captains to a conference. However, as they discuss their strategy, a furious storm breaks out, and they must return to their ships.
When the storm abates, the Pope again summons his captains as the flagship continues. But the storm rages again, and standing at the helm, the Pope strains every muscle to steer his ship between the two columns from whose tops hang many anchors and strong hooks linked to chains.
The enemy fleet closes in to intercept and sink the flagship at all costs. They bombard it with everything they have; incendiary bombs, firearms, cannons and every imaginable explosive. Now, the battle rages on ever more furious. Pointed iron prows ram the flagship repeatedly but to no avail. Unscathed and undaunted, it keeps on its course. At times, a formidable ram splinters a gaping hole in its hull; however, a breeze from the two columns immediately seals the gash.
Meanwhile, enemy cannons blow up, firearms break and fall to pieces, and ships crack in two and sink to the bottom of the ocean. In blind fury, the enemy resorts to hand-to-hand combat, cursing, and blaspheming. Suddenly the Pope falls, seriously wounded. He is instantly helped up but struck down again, then dies. A shout of victory rises from the enemy, and wild rejoicing sweeps their ships. But no sooner is the Pope dead than another one takes his place. The captains of the auxiliary ships elected him so quickly that the news of the Pope’s death coincided with that of his successor’s election. The enemy’s self-assurance wanes pitifully as they feel victory slip through their fingers.
Breaking through all resistance, the new Pope steers his ship safely between the columns and moors it to both of them; first, to the one with the Sacred Host, and then to the other that is topped by the statue of the Virgin. At this point, something unexpected happens. The enemy ships panic and disperse, colliding with and sinking each other.