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  • Last year a website I own received a comment. No one ever goes to that website so this surprised me. I had purchased the domain while in college and have been tinkering with the site ever since. The author of the comment left me his email. This is my response.

    Dear Sir,

    Thank you for your interest and comment on the "Dream Mine" site. The site is currently a work in progress. I can see from your web group that you know of the Dream Mine that I am referring to. Now let me tell you my background in the form of broken fragments.

    In Sigulfjördur, Iceland there was one a thriving industry built solely on the herring fish. Men, Women, Boys, and Girls would work tirelessly to process the fish for domestic and foreign markets. The fish brought incredible wealth and economic prosperity to a hard scramble fjord in the north of the country. Then mysteriously almost over night the herring disappeared.
    In the mid 1800's the bodies of two Mormon missionaries were exhumed from the cemetery near where I live. They were dug up because it was the custom at the time to perform medical autopsies on individuals who were seen as having no kin or attachments to the living. (I have never been to the cemetery where their bodies are reported to be. I think tomorrow I will take a walk there to see if I can find a marker for this event). It should also be noted that sometimes grave robbers would plunder the graves of the dead, but since the missionaries were not wealthy it is safe to say that was probably for medical purposes.
    The Book of Mormon is said to have been translated from Golden Plates taken from a stone box in a remote region of New York State. It was through dreams and visions that the text was translated. In one of these visions a resurrected man appears to Joseph Smith and informs him of the location of the GOLD!!! plates. The resurrected man would later appear to one John Hyrum Koyle; 6,000 km away in a high elevation desert basin.
    This last year my grandmother passed away. She was my connection to what she called the "Dream Mine." A Mine in located in Central Utah. The Mine was run by her grandfather John Hyrum Koyle. According to the family stories, John had been born with the gift of prophecy. One of his prophecies, the most famous prophecy, is that at some point in the past righteous God fearing men buried treasure inside a mountain to help ease the lives of those in the future. John happened to be a bishop over the congregation in a town named, appropriately Salem.
    A group of stranded Basque Whalers set up camp on the western side of the fjord opposite Hólmavik, Iceland. They settled in for winter, but were running low on supplies. They decided to butcher some of the local's sheep. It proved to be a mistake. Because of their actions and the limited resources of the area the local sheriff decided that their punishment for theft would be their lives.
    In the opening pages of the Book of Mormon, God tells the narrator to slay a man who is drunk.
    One winter I found myself traveling down Spanish Fork Canyon with a colleague and classmate. I was in Love with her. As we entered the mouth of the canyon all the stories that my grandmother had told me about the "Dream Mine" came flooding back into my recollection. I began to tell her about the mine. Up to this point in my life the "Mine" had only been a story. I had never been forced to acknowledge it's existence or legacy. In this moment I began to build a wall around those memories. I promised myself I would never share the story of the Dream Mine again.
    "No one is a prophet in their own country." –Translated Icelandic saying.
    Last summer I met a man who was neither living nor dead. He carried everything that he owned with him. Neither sun nor heat could disrupt his aura. He owned very little. The man, who declined to be photographed, had entered a life of solitude. He had achieved peace with himself and the world. On that hot summer day we sat in the public square of Fayetteville, Arkansas talking. And through the course of the conversation he demonstrated to me that he had no real need to be asking questions; he already knew the answers. I gave him $20 for food. A few weeks later I recieved a letter containing $100 and a vague broken sentence saying: "I've been meaning to repay you for a while now…"
    I once shared a dream with a friend, only I never saw her in the dream. The day after the dream she fastidiously explained each and every part of my dream but from her perspective. She only missed one detail from the dream, in her dream I did not drown.

    Sir, This is where I stand with the Dream Mine. It is engrained in my being. It is there in my struggle to describe my faith. It is there in the mistakes that I make in life. It is there in my moments of revelry. And as a project it is growing.

    I can wrap up this email by saying that the story of the dream mine is too powerful of a story not to be told.

    Now to answer your question about the shareholder's section on my site. It is there for the collaborators and participants. Currently it is only accessible by invitation. More news and changes are on the way though. Please continue to read and follow my progress and if feel interested in joining the "Dream Mine" as a shareholder please do not hesitate to ask.

    The story must be told!
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