A Most Spectacular Dream

Joyce Benedict

© Copyright 2021 by Joyce Benedict

Photo of Kennedy's funeral procession.
Various religions state only ‘God’ can see the future. Through different mediums I have. The account below is the most spectacular and changed my life in more ways then one.  

On November 20, 1963 I dreamt that John F. Kennedy was assassinated.  I described the dream to three people days before the event. Not only was the dream the most extraordinary I  ever had in my life, but it changed my views of reality forever.

I was newly married and living in Kingston, New York, a small, laid back city on the banks of the beautiful Hudson River. One son was four, the other eighteen months. We lived on the second floor of a large two-family house with a commanding view of Kingston just a few miles away. My neighbor downstairs, Louise, was married, had a four-year-old boy and another on the way.

A dear friend who lived about a mile away, would also hear of the dream before the event. Last, but not least, a disbelieving husband, who after having heard my previous precognitive dreams and dismissing them as ‘coincidence’, seriously suggested I call the White House when I told him this one.

I had had precognitive dreams before, usually surrounding daily events, family occurrences,  letters read that came days later, warnings of fire,  newspaper articles seen days before delivery, but no dream compared to the one I had of that fateful day that would soon be  imbedded in the memory banks of millions.

I am walking on a beach. A soldier appears walking towards me. He tells me a terrible event is about to occur. I am perplexed in the dream. “Why tell me,” I ask. “What kind of terrible event?” The scene shifts suddenly to the back seat of our Volkswagen with my neighbor Louise. Both husbands are up front; mine is driving. Louise is talking to me and I am filled with sadness.  I ‘see’ that there will be problems with the child yet born. I say nothing. Suddenly, Louise looks out the car window and exclaims, “My God, look!” as she points out our back seat window. I look to where she points.

There is a newspaper stand, the kind you used to see on the streets of New York. Hanging off of it, and on the stands in front of it are many, many newspapers stating in massive, bold print, THE PRESIDENT IS SHOT!, JOHN F. KENNEDY KILLED BY ASSASSINS BULLET!, THE PRESIDENT DEAD! We both clutch our hearts and exclaim, “Oh, my God!”

Suddenly, I am shot into space at an extraordinary speed. Before me I see the President’s wife in a white dress with veil bending over her children to comfort them. She is very sad. As abruptly as I was shot into space, I was next hovering over the White House. Helicopters were circling. There were long lines of people in black. I am then in the Capitol Rotunda. Different branches of the armed services are guarding the casket. The scene suddenly shifts to me being high in the air again looking down on Washington, DC. I see the Washington Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, the others. I had never been to Washington before. I observe the long funeral cortege down a very long, wide street, I then see it going over a bridge to a cemetery. Thousands gather.

As abruptly as before, the scene changes. I am back in the White House in a huge room with very long windows covered only in sheer, gossamer-like, blue material. A soft breeze blows them gently. The room is empty save for a wooden casket. The floor is highly varnished. For the first time in the dream since being in the car I feel I am a body again and not a spirit zooming all over! I know the President’s body is there.  I am staring at the casket when I see an arm appear from a doorway to my left. 

I grab the arm. I declare, “You are the one who shot the President!” The voice replies, “Yes, I am the one who did it.” I then said, “Then I know it was someone in the White House who did it.” As the voice replies, “Yes.” I tug on the arm as I want to see who the person is.  I awake. A voice as clear as a bell states, “Richard Nixon will be the next President of the United States.”

Awakening from this amazing dream, I am in a state of bewilderment. If Kennedy is killed then wouldn’t Vice President Johnson  be our next President?”

I get up in a daze. The children are awakening. It is 5:40 A.M. My mind is a jumbled stream of images. Surely this is just a bad dream. Morning chores take over. Breakfast is served to baby and son. Then, as husband is eating I tell him complete dream. He looks up. This time he states, “Well Joyce, perhaps you should call the White House.” 

When he says that I think I have had just a foolish dream. It was just too preposterous. I imagine myself calling the White House and stating that I was a Mrs. Green calling to say I had had a dream of the President’s assassination. He must not go on the trip. I had heard vaguely of an impending trip to Dallas. No. It was all just a bad dream.

As the day gathered strength I could not dismiss the dream. So unusual to dream about our president! And such a tragic event. The next day my neighbor comes upstairs for the two children to play together. I decide to tell Louise the dream. I leave out the part about her baby’s impending problem. Her eyes get wide. In her slow, southern drawl she exclaims, “Oh my Joyce, you have some imagination!” I found it hard that my imagination would create such an event, but I simply did not think for a moment that it was to be even though I had had many other precognitive dreams. This was just too shattering to think that it would happen.

The next night I visit a friend . We share a light dinner along with our children. Her husband was not home yet. I tell her the dream. She comments in her steady, down to earth way, “Lady, you are as dramatic in your dreams as you are in your daily life.” She tells her husband the dream that night as they get into bed.  He laughs it off.

The fourth day after the dream it is the afternoon. I am ironing in the kitchen. Children are napping. There’s no radio/TV on. I seldom listen or watch. I am a peace loving addict.  The phone rings. It is my friend from dinner. She is shouting, but not quite, definitely borderline hysterical. I was never ever to hear her so emotional again. “My God, Joyce, turn on your radio! Your Kennedy dream. It has come true!”

I reel from the impact of her words. I momentarily thought I was going to faint. I sit down on an old radiator in the kitchen. Breathlessly, she continues. “I was hanging up laundry when all the neighbors were rushing out of their homes into backyards shouting , ‘The president has been shot!’ I couldn’t believe it. I rushed in to call you. Turn on your radio!”

The rest of the day I was in a daze. Fred came home in disbelief. ‘Your dream, it was real!” We were glued to the TV  the next several days.

When I saw Lyndon Johnson sworn in I instantly intuited that he knew it was to happen.  Scenes of the White House, mourners, helicopters, funeral cortege, cemetery shots were all too familiar. They had been seen in the dream.

That night, Louise came upstairs, once again wide-eyed. “Joyce, you are a mystic!” Well, I assured her I was no mystic but we were all in shock over the death, and I more so by the powerful dream.

As the Warren Commission’s report unfolded, I believed they hadn’t come anywhere near the truth of who was behind it. I always believed that someone in the White House did it. Today, I believe the Oliver Stone movie, JFK comes closest to the truth. Several months later Louise’s baby was born and there were complications. It remained in the hospital for several months as I had ‘seen’ in the dream. 

The subject of the past president’s death still surfaces. Videos that explain new aspects or slants of that fateful day continue to appear on various channels. As the years passed I have often pondered the dream and where it took me. I realize I experienced astral travel, seeing places and events I normally would never have seen. The researches, books read, other experiences have convinced me of the reality of ‘other worlds, dimensions, time zones. My entire perspective of life and reality changed.

The many books read through the years implicated many sources. Two written seriously implicating former President Lyndon Johnson. They seemed to confirm for me seeing him sworn in and sensing he being implicated, plus the dream concludes by my stating, “Then I know someone in the White House did it.”

President Johnson’s mistress was interviewed many years following the assassination.
Her comment, “Lyndon came to me the night before the Dallas trip stating, tomorrow you will see who really has the power.”

In closing, I wish to quote the writer, Joseph Conrad:  “All is a living present. The mind of man is capable of anything because everything is in it. All the past, as well as the future.”  

Since a junior in high school I have been blessed? experiencing precognitive dreams that continued  throughout my life. My question, “Why see the future if it can’t be changed?” Events played out despite warnings. My view of reality, dimensions, consciousness greatly altered by these experiences. Conclusion? We all have a destiny.

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