" I looked, in the night-vision, and saw an avenue of cypresses, in line like sepulchers, there were thousands and thousands. A road opened up in the midst, it widened and ran more and more rapidly amongst the cypresses which became thinner, while a light appeared in the midst of them.

I followed the road and arrived at a storm wracked sea , the waves were terrifying. A light rose at the horizon, the sea calmed itself; the sun rose, but as a gigantic sphere of radiant
fire-coloured light. Above the waters,  almost calm, I saw a triangle of light that shone, like
the sparkling of shining gold on the background of fire of the luminous sphere. In the midst
of the triangle an open book. 

I heard a scream of exultation:  "Hallelujah !"  Coming out of the book and rising up softly: fruits, musical notes and white lilies, opened and closed themselves in a rhythmic and soft pulsation, like white petals gliding in the air. At the right appeared a heart of flesh, as big as a mountain; in front of it a multitude of human figures in light-coloured clothes prostrated in adoration, transfiguring themselves like the corners of white stones. Above the multitude like
a dance of white birds, I heard a chorus singing with distinction:

We praise You !  We love You !  Amen. "

At the beginning of the year 1981, Marcello told to those who were with him the dream he had received:

" I found myself on the ancient road of Saint Ercolano at Perugia (Italy). I was driving a small
three-wheeled cart and on the loading-platform behind me were sitting all those who are part
of my community.  I had just started to go down on that dirt ancient road, when at the first bend,
I found before me a big rounded mass of stone.
While I was deciding what to do, I noticed on the left side of the road a friar, wearing the cassock of a priest, who came out of an ancient main door, like that of a church, only open at  the left side and he was heading towards my cart.  

The priest, of a slender appearance and with a pale face, was getting near to the mass of stone and with all his strength he began to move the stone trying one, two, three times. 
From my driver’s seat I was looking surprised: the love he showed me in his efforts with which
he tried to help was in stark contrast to the poor view of  the clergy, at whose hands I had suffered much when I was young. 
Finally, rolling the mass of stone at the side of the road, the priest lifted up his head: I saw that his face became round and red like the moon when she is rising. I wanted to get down to thank him, but he entered and hid himself behind the main door from which he just appeared.
I was sad, for I wished to express to him my heartfelt gratitude; but I decided to continue with the group I had behind me on the road of Saint Ercolano.  

As we travelled on, we joyfully arrived at a wonderful hill, where basins with golden rims gathered pure spring-water. The basins were rectangular, like altars. They were all the same size and
I estimated their length to be about four paces, their width like three and their height was about one stride.

A big crowd began to arrive from several parts and also from far away. I invited them to bathe themselves in these basins and some did so, entering and getting out of  the basins as if in a dance. The words of Psalm 87 (*) came to my mind: “Singers and dancers alike say,  all my springs are in You.”