Date: 23-01-2022
Last night I dreamt I was going to a protest march in Amsterdam. I was visiting my sister before going, as in the dream she lived in Amsterdam in a typical narrow porch house. While I was there I was talking to her about my website, and explaining its concepts. I explained about the cycles of consciousness, but while I was explaining what was already written and published I got new insights. I wove these new insights into my lesson. My sister gave me her full attention. She was intrigued.
On a piece of paper I drew a graph, and explained my new insight of the relation between reveal and stagnation. I drew a diagram that showed two lines. One went from the upper left downwards to the right, and represented variation. The less variation, the more the world stagnated. The other line would start in the bottom left and would go upward to the right. This line represented reveal. The lesson was that the more the world stagnated, the less means obscurity had to hide the truth and thus the more reveal there would be. The two lines crossed somewhere beyond the centre to the right. (EDIT: I’ve drawn this out and placed it in chapter 20).
I explained to my sister this was one movement of a repeating cycle. Under the graph I drew a succession of X’s to illustrate how the battle between obscurity and reveal, and the battle between stagnation and variation would culminate after reaching the crossing (the omega point) after which they would then switch places.
XXXXXXXXXX I wrote under the graph. These were the universal cycles. The meaning of this was that the more the elites tried to stagnate the world, the less they would be able to keep their secrets hidden.
I explained the concept of variation in light of these drawings, and asked her to take my pencil. From there I wanted to explain there was a universe where she had taken the pencil with her other hand, but also one I handed it to her with my other hand, and also one where I used my other hand and she too, but that apart from these 4 differences there was a host of even smaller differences of every minute detail possible that each sprung its own new version of the universe. Every thinkable outcome would result in another branch of the universe splitting off. But during my lively explanation my brother (who was also there) kept taking the pencil out of my hand prematurely. He was thwarting me up to a point I just gave that part of my lesson up. I hoped my sister understood it now.
After I had explained this to her, and she was visibly processing my explanation of the workings behind the world, she said she felt intuitively that what I had said was correct. But suddenly I realised I was in Amsterdam to take part in a protest march, and I had to go. I had an old bike with me, and cycled (lol) to the location of the march. It was a borrowed bike. I think it was my brother’s bike; the black one. I arrived at the march, and the people yelled out loud: “We are angry! We are angry!”
The crowd walked through residential neighbourhoods of Amsterdam I had not been before. They even went through alleyways where the backyards of houses met. It was all very narrow and illogical to take a protest march through there. The people that lived in those houses were looking from the windows upstairs, or stood in their backyards. Most of them were supportive of our cause, and we got a lot of positive reactions. But in some backyards there were parties of quite decadent elitist people. The semi rich. Parties were forbidden due to the lockdown, as were protest marches for that matter. But in the chaos of all the protests these people knew the police was far too busy to bother them. They knew they would get away with it.
I tried to get to the front of the march. That proved to be difficult when the stream of people walked through the narrow alleyways. When an alley got a little wider or when we crossed the street to the next ally, I took my window of opportunity to advance a little. It was a big protest march, and the vibe was really good. But somehow, even though I walked with the crowd and yelled along, I felt like an outsider. What put emphasis on that was that I sometimes yelled other things. My lines were quite catchy though, and spot on. The things I said were definitely against the mainstream narrative, but I think a little too awake for even these people. Though some did understand them and shook my hand or gave me a brotherly pad on the shoulder, but most people looked at me like they were seeing a crazy person.
I arrived at the front of the march but I heard and saw more people in the distance. The march was fragmenting, and was no longer one whole mass of people. I ushered the people behind me to pick up the pace, but they didn’t hear me. They were having too much fun together. I pointed out the other march in the distance, but it was pointless. Those that did hear me didn’t see the use in trying to merge back into one march. I got back up on the bike and raced to the other march. This march was even bigger than the one I just left. Much bigger. The vibe was slightly different too; a little harsher slurs and people were expressing them a bit angrily. I couldn’t get to the front at all, and asking them to slow down seemed pointless. They wouldn’t listen. But the vibe in this group was still acceptable.
Then I ran into a man who was also with a bike. He looked familiar to me in this dream world, and I recognised him as one of the regular bus drivers in my current home town. He had recognised me too, as a recurring passenger. He spoke to me, and said some things that indicated he was quite aware of how the main narrative was false. He was awake. I don’t recall what he said exactly except for this. He said: “We must do this ourselves. The change. We the people.” I immediately understood what he was hinting at. An organised fall of the cartel would be organised by the cartel. A real fall would not be demanded by the people, but would be forced and done by the people. We had a short conversation about our philosophies. Twilight had set in. The sun was now behind the horizon. We walked through the protesting crowds.
At one point I realised I did not even know his name. I reached out my right hand and said to him: “By the way, my name is Willem.” He shook my hand and replied: “Mariel.” For a split second there I wasn’t sure if I heard it right. It sounded like he said a girls’ name. So I ask: “Did I hear it right? Your name is Mariel?” He looked a bit dejected towards the ground and confirmed. He had a girls’ name. I comforted him: “I know more guys with a girls’ name. A colleague of mine is called Flower, but it’s a guy.” Mariel laughed. I imagine he must’ve endured some bullying as a child, having this name as a boy. I extended another joke, saying: “Luckily you were out of school when Disney released The Little Mermaid.” He laughed harder now: “Yep, I’m so lucky!” he joked. We both laughed.
He changed the subject and asked me if I had thought of a way to get home because it was getting late. Of course he knew where I lived, being a bus driver and me a regular passenger, and that meant he knew the bus schedule. And after a certain time late in the evening the bus lines no longer commute. It shook me. I realised I had totally forgotten about that due to all the fun and happenings of the protest. I had not thought about my journey back to my home at all. “Oh no! I totally forgot, haha! I think I better hurry back right now.” He was in the same boat, though he lived somewhere else but still near me. He took off on his bike, while I tried to figure out where I was at now.
I recognised this place immediately. This was Amersfoort. I was on my old street where I grew up. It was the crossing near the shopping centre. The situation was as it was about 20 years ago. The church still stood there, for example. It was dark now. I jumped onto the bike, and began to cycle in the direction of my parent’s house. The street lights were all off for some reason, and neither had I turned on the lights on this bike. I was too lazy to do that, and that meant I was biking in almost complete darkness.
Halfway to my parents’ house I came across a police car that blocked the road, with their flashing lights on. I wasn’t on the biking lane, so I quickly took a right turn and got on to the biking lane. Slowly I approached the scene. There were many cops, but I couldn’t see how many. There were a lot of them on the street. At least 10. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and were busy doing something. As I drew closer and closer in silence I could see they were moving the garbage containers. They weren’t the one to collect it in this dream, but it seemed that they were somehow involved in the process of it all. In the dream, this made no sense too.
I knew something was off. The police shouldn’t be doing this kind of work, and even so they wouldn’t be doing it at this hour. And even if that was incorrect, why would they do it in total darkness without properly lighting the street? Wouldn’t this way of doing it make things even more difficult than they already are? But I got the idea this was all a cover to actually obscure what they were really doing from a wider audience. I had now come really close along side the police car, and I was trying to switch my bike light on.
But I couldn’t get the damn thing to switch on, so I was hanging over the handlebars, to get a better feel where the button was. Suddenly I saw I had approached 3 garbage containers that were parked right in the middle of the biking lane, but due to the darkness of the scene they popped into view at the last second. I was barely able to dodge them as I had a fraction of a second to react, and actually brushed the third one. And as if this was a comedic movie; one of the buttons on my jacket snatched the rim of the container and my motion on the bike pulled that thing with me a few inches. It made a loud sound.
I wanted to jump back on the bike and speed out of there, but then saw a very sweet, charming, and also very pretty police lady that stood near the containers I just barely missed. We stood close, maybe 3 feet apart from each other. The other police officers had not noticed me yet, due to the darkness and perhaps also thinking their colleague had created that noise. Our eyes were locked. Both of us startled by the sudden appearance of the other. The other officers hadn’t even looked up at the sound from my action, and were still placing containers everywhere, quite loudly I might add considering this seemed to be a covert op.
We kept looking each other in the eyes. Both of us knew the other had no good reason to be here. I knew what they were doing was bs, and she knew I had no business driving at night without any lights on my bike during a lockdown. She had to arrest me, but that would make things complicated for her too. After staring at each other for what seemed like 30 seconds, I slowly got back on the bike. She didn’t stop me. I looked one more time, and disappeared into the night.
