In this dream, we noticed one night that strange lights littered the sky. Out of somewhere far beyond the ordinary constellations, extracted from realms beyond all contemplation, there appeared in the sky new lights. New figures, not just new configures, new conjurations of constellations. They were symbols. Each one meant something to the people who saw it. They couldn’t quite put it into words, but they could recognize it when its light shone blazing before them. Rough patterns suddenly refracted through the lens of infinity, boiled down into something immediately recognizable to the naked eye. To many people at once, not just to one single beholder, alone and frozen with his own personal vision. They came around, kind of, in perfect circles of fours, Kabbalistic catastrophic mandalas, fractal pentecostal perceptual diagrams written in the blue night sky. They made us remember who were are, who we were, who we’re going to be. Gave us some sense of purpose, some reasoning - if only inner and spurious - as to why we should endure more madness, more fury of Fate’s fortunes and Love’s gentle onslaughts. I remember seeing off from the center, flung out on an arc to the right-hand middle-section, the letter of the lightning-bolt…
As these symbols became more distinct and more perceivable to all, the fabric of time began to unravel. Things ground to a stand-still, Reality ground to a halt. The symbols revealed themselves to be transcendent spiritual programs, functions, options and possibilities for transforming, transmuting, perceiving and perfecting reality.
The dream was sad.
Some illusions are beautiful.
*This was a few nights ago now…
- END -
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Last night, i dreamed i was living through some kind of Apocalypse (something that I used to dream about all the time, and reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy has restarted.) I had a big robot thing, which was a kind of cross between a Transformer from the new movies, General Grievous, and one of those powered-armor machine-gun ape things from The Matrix: Revolutions. It was my only companion as I wandered the burnt out husk of the world, which was only medium-bleak compared to how bad it sometimes is in my dreams. Understandably from its appearance, I considered it a kind of toy, and kept telling it to chill out and not point guns at people. It was completely silent, though. It kind of shadowed me as I walked around. I met an old professor-type who talked to me about the Dark Ages, and how the present condition was ten times worse. I eventually came across a bunch of happy people, but then some kind of bad robot which mine had to fight showed up, and everyone scattered in fear, except me, who had to stay because my robot companion was my only friend. In the end, we were just sitting by a river, as people killed each other in the distance and the river started flowing red with blood, which freaked the shit outta me. I’ve been trying to record my dreams to get them more lucid and vivid, and this is what I get… probably just stress. Monday nights were never good for dreamers.