The town of Tintagel is literally drenched in New Age, pagan, satanic, and Celtic spirituality. It is everywhere; in every shop, in every store. During the course of our weeklong stay, my sister and I were also soon to find out that in the adjacent small town of Boscastle, no more than a few short miles down the road, resided the world's largest witchraft artifact and paraphernalia museum. The world's largest! Walking around the streets of Tintagel and visiting even but only a few of the shops, was after a few days, beginning to make us both nauseous.
Why this particular Christian ministry had decided upon setting up their weekly summer camp meeting in the heart of such an occultic area as this, is a question I still very much have. However, I figure their intentions were probably towards somehow exerting some kind of Godly influence upon a region which was obviously very much lacking of anything Christian. Still though, my sister and I were growing ill-accustomed to frequenting local shops where all that was on display were Celtic icons, pentagrams, and magic crystals. In fact, the whole scene sort of brought to mind reminiscings of that new movie Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone. Only as far as I am concerned, Harry's warlock adventures would appear but child's play standing in light of this pentagram-cluttered place. So anyway, as we were understandably tiring of this blatant pagan atmosphere, we decided for our last week in Tintagel simply to relax outside of town on the grassy, green pastures which overlooked the ocean... and in quiet, waiting prayer. And for over a week we did just that, and very little else. ...
...Anyway, it was on that very night that I had a certain very striking dream. And I feel that this dream sort of put the whole trip itself into proper perspective, for I see it is a display, or a picture, of the powerful effectiveness of consecrated Christian prayer. In this dream I viewed a very tall and extremely powerful looking witch who was fastening a sort of harness upon a nearby someone. Believing that I could perhaps possibly affect this situation that I was viewing in some way or another, I began rebuking the witch continuously in the name of Jesus. You know, something like: "In the name of Jesus, I rebuke thee!!". Something like that. When the witch then turned to me and realized full well what I was trying to accomplish against her, her previously relaxed expression soon turned into angry rage, her eyes becoming as small black holes; and then, stretching forth her claw-like hand, she fiercely grasped the extended hand with which I had been rebuking her. There was an ensuing fierce power struggle, she pushing one way and I another, but with no clear headway nor seeming advance made by either side. But then something broke - I don't know what, I don't know who! I woke up with a jolt, hand still clenched, and in a cold sweat.
To this day, I still cannot be certain as to what this dream actually signifies. However, I am inclined to believe it is a representation of the spiritual struggle which my sister and I were instigating as we waitingly prayed, days on end, in this occultic spiritual haven in western Cornwall, England. Perhaps in the heavenly sphere we were wrestling against the evil spiritual powers which held their grasp over that particular region. I don't know. One thing I am quite sure of, however, is that neither my sister nor I had at all intentionally planned on attending this conference in this very remote part of Great Britain.