Date: 10-10-2021 

Last night I dreamt about my brother. It was such a weird dream! The story took place at our parents’ house. Dad was still alive, but at the same time there was a reunion for family and friends of his in commemoration of him. And so, my brother was here too, but I had not recognised him at first. I sat at a table with a few people, and next to me sat a huge man. He was shaven bald, his chin, his head, just completely hairless. And he was incredibly fat. I had no idea who this was. He stank, and it was genuinely unpleasant to look at this man. He was a stereotypical morbidly obese man.

There were other people sitting at this table, and these people and the fatman were talking loudly and laughing hard. I was just an extra, as I did not participate at first. But this fatman knew things about my youth he couldn’t possibly know. And he made the occasional joke at my expense, with knowledge about the past he couldn’t possibly have. Something about him was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. The jokes at my expense didn’t hit target as I did not engage. I was just trying to figure out who this guy is.

But then the mannerisms and things he said made me realise… this is my brother. My brother used to be a big long strong man. We both grew up with a skinny body plan, but he didn’t want that and started doing fitness and some body building in his teen years. As he was 6ft. 6″ tall that meant he grew into a big hulk. Tender, still, but strong. And he ate healthy. His body was his temple. It seemed that in this dream reality, he had completely let go of that philosophy.

He was so incredibly fat that even his face had a different form. I barely recognised him in it. And his completely shaven appearance where he used to sport a beard and moustache made him even more unrecognisable. He used to love his wild hair! With my mouth fallen open I had stared at him the moment I realised this was my brother, looking for words to start a conversation. But I found that to be difficult. He was still in a very lively conversation with the other people sitting at our table. I remained a spectator, mostly. I did not engage.

At one point he looked and smiled a certain way, and then I recognised something of my brother. And now a few people at our table stood up and left, maybe to get a drink or talk to someone else. My brother turned to me. Of course he had recognised me, as I still hadn’t changed much. It was an awkward moment cause he knew I had not seen him grow into this, and it seemed he didn’t want to talk about it. He tried to pick up our old joke routine, but it didn’t work. I was still processing this change. Carefully I uttered the words: “Bro, I had not even recognised you…” He interjected before I could say anything about the weight or how he used to look: “Yeah, new me. Let the past be the past.”

He then tried to start joke routines we used to do, but these routines and facial expressions we used to do didn’t work on his new image. His clownish imago routine just wasn’t funny any more. He had changed into a different person. And he noticed. He stopped and there was an awkward silence. I had now found the courage to bring it up again and ask him the question he was evading. I tried it jokingly first: “But seriously though; what happened to that long and muscular brother of mine, and who is this fatty sitting in front of me?” “Yeah, things happen. Not important.” He evaded again.

But I changed my joking tone, as now the question had been asked: “Dude, really… What happened to you? How have you changed so much in such a short time? This isn’t what you wanted for yourself, right? You lived so healthy, ate healthy food, kept in shape… How?” He got a bit aggravated, and threw me something along the lines that I should stop living in the past, as if that is what this was about. I mean, aren’t we there to commemorate dad, who is from our past? But he made it clear; the topic of his new appearance was off limits.

He just wanted to pick things up where we left them, and whenever anyone would ask about his bodily transformation he was short to answer something along the lines that “we should just get used to it cause he won’t change back”, after which he would then change the topic. He didn’t want to be confronted with it, at all. But I didn’t see a way to get used to it, and that was emphasised by how he handled himself now. The old M would not evade questions like this. He knew his body, and was confident about it, and conscious of its shortcomings.

I realised this was not the same person I grew up with. Not only had he changed on the outside, he had also changed on the inside. The brother I knew was gone. He no longer felt like him. I didn’t see how I could get used to this. I just couldn’t do it. It was so weird. And his reaction to questions gave me an unpleasant familiar vibe from our upbringing. Some things were also non-discussable. No more off limit topics. I was done with off limit topics.

Date: 06-10-2021

In this dream, I lived with my wife D in some kind of community. The setting was a slightly post-apocalyptic world. The house in which we lived was partly the house I live in now, but there were also parts of it that resembled my parents’ house. Some spaces were completely different from both, though. The location of the house shifted a few times. Sometimes the house was located in Amersfoort and sometimes in De Veen. But regardless either location felt like home to me.

The community consisted of people who live in our courtyard. The houses were situated in exactly the same way. But in those houses lived different people than live there in real life. Many of them I didn’t know, but I did know a few prominent residents in this dream reality. De leader of this community was my boss, F. He ruled in his own way; a joking socially awkward dictator. His right hand man was another colleague of mine, FW. But the vibe was mostly good in the community, and we were about to have another community meeting.

A package had arrived from the government. It contained something that would “improve us”. It was meant for vaccinated people only, and was some sort of technology. It was to be injected or applied (it’s a little vague) with a handheld device that looked much like a handheld scanner from the supermarket. FW was explaining to the group what it did and how it worked, but even before he started I already knew I didn’t want it. We weren’t vaccinated either, anyway so we weren’t eligible.

FW explained how great it was and he was going to demonstrate it on himself. He aimed the device at his chest and pushed the trigger button. A violent reaction crawled over his skin in a circle outward from where he targeted himself. It appeared like black wires were tunnelling their way through his upper skin tissue. It much resembled someone being assimilated by the Borg like in the Star Trek series and films. And indeed implants appeared on top of his skin at certain places, but they were much smaller than the Borg implants, and they were pitch black. Their purpose was at this point still unknown to us.

On his wrist of his right hand appeared some sort of bracelet, but the bracelet did not touch his skin. It looked like it was levitating just half an inch away from his skin at all times, like magnets facing other magnets but facing them with the same pole. The beats of the bracelet weren’t connected through a wire either but levitated just at the right distance from each other to give the appearance of a bracelet. They were elongated squares, the middle one biggest, and getting smaller the further along either side of his wrist they progressed, and they appeared to be made out of turquoise mineral stone. Lastly they also seemed to emanate a faint bluish hue.

FW explained that everyone who took this would now be able to communicate with each other wirelessly. There were many more features but D and I didn’t stay to hear the rest. We didn’t want this. We saw how impure it was. Never any privacy ever again? Never having any of my own thoughts? This was demonic. But while we walked out we heard FW ask: “Who wants to go first?” After that we looked back and saw that especially many young children who had no idea of the ramifications of this augmentation jumped up at the chance. But D and I stayed quiet and continued our way out of the hall. We understood that it was not possible to reverse this process and that we could not make them understand if we tried to explain why they shouldn’t want this.

We were going to distance ourselves from the group that underwent this transition. But our leader, F, saw us leave. He had undergone the treatment earlier before even FW did, because we saw the same thing around his wrist as we saw appear on FW’s wrist. He made a hand-sign to FW and it looked like he wanted FW to go and talk to us. They both started talking to us, quite forcefully. They both said this procedure wasn’t voluntary but mandated. We were going to have to consent to this, even though it was for the vaccinated only. But they also simultaneously told us we weren’t allowed to have this because we were unvaccinated. This was a strange contradiction, and I recall verbally countering both arguments where I plead that discrimination is very wrong, but also explaining why we both refused to cooperate with them.

We went home. The dream somehow spanned a few days, of which only vague impressions lasted when I typed the dream out. I cannot recall any details about those days, but the story picked back up again here. At this point we were the black sheep of the community. People looked at us with much distrust when we walked outside. We stayed home and indoors as much as we could. D had to go to work but I appeared to be out of a job. I stayed home. And when this story picks up there was some interaction between me and a neighbour. He was a black man, and he was quite nice to me. I had been fixing things in my porch at the front door, but I had forgotten to take my tool case back inside. This man rang the doorbell.

I spoke to him through the open kitchen window. It was a friendly conversation. One I hadn’t had with a neighbour for days. After the conversation I climbed out of the kitchen window to get my stuff. The neighbour walked away but I could see he had only now noticed I did not have any implants. He had a look on his face as if he suddenly realised he had been talking to an enemy. I wasn’t sure but it seemed like he had informed the community of this wirelessly. The vibe got bad again.

That evening Hunter Biden (yes, the son of Joe Biden..!) rang our doorbell, and when I answered the door he started complaining to me that D and I had not undergone the procedure, and underscored that we were the only ones that didn’t. D had already gone to bed, and the house was now truly different from how it was in the start of the dream. I didn’t really know this place, but it was my house in the dream. While talking to Hunter, F and FW suddenly appeared too, along with an older woman who I didn’t know. But she took the lead. There was also a fifth person who I barely remember, as their role was minor. It was now five people against one.

Hunter tried to push me aside and tried to get into the house, but I calmly stood strong and told him he did not have my permission to enter. I wouldn’t allow it. I tried to walk away inside and now the house had no door so I couldn’t close it (which was normal in the dream at this point). I walked up the stairs but Hunter had followed me in and also tried to walk up the stairs behind me. Now my instincts to protect D from them kicked in. F and FW were now also inside in the hallway, F holding the device in his hands. They were going to force us. F said: “You no longer have a choice in this matter!” I began to resist them, and pushed Hunter down from the stairs with force, Yelling: “I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS!” I repeated this again but replaced the ‘I’ with ‘WE’.

I yelled that a third time and it seemed to scare them off. The hallway was big now and appeared much like the old workshop at the appliance store where I got my first job in my early teens. From this workshop I grabbed the first long item I could find to use as a weapon. Sadly it turned out to be a plastic pipe rather than an iron one, but it would have to do. Now this afore mentioned woman started to take an active role, and ordered the others to complete the procedure on me. All five approached me.

But I was in “no consent mode” and I took a swing with the pipe at her head, and repeated that motion hitting her on her arms and shoulder, as well as on her head a few times. I hit her hard, with all my strength. She was unable to continue her stride towards me and I was winning terrain. I kept hitting her repeatedly and drove her out of the house! There was nothing she could do but obey my demand. With even less effort I got the others to leave. I simply walked in all red-faced and firmly stated: “OUT! ALL OF YOU!” I hit them with the pipe a few times but it was only to speed up their pace. They were on their way out. Now they stood outside like sad children who’s ball was taken away by an angry neighbour. They stood there, but they did not leave.

I went back inside into this house that still had no door, so I didn’t close and lock anything. I thought to myself that if we both went to sleep they were surely coming back, perhaps with more people. We had to leave. In the bedroom I found D awake, but she hadn’t really heard much of what had transpired downstairs. I explained the situation to her. She stated it would be better if we were to find another place to live tomorrow. I convinced her we had to leave the house now: “They’ll be coming back as soon as we are asleep.” “You’re right.” she replied calmly, realising the severity of our situation.

We quickly grabbed a few things and fled into the darkness of the night. I knew the way even though the night was pitch black, just as I can navigate through the forest during the night in real life. D held my hand tight. We escaped from being noticed by a crowd that had been gathering not far from our house with the intent to storm us. With distance came some safety and we were now walking hand in hand through what appeared to be old Amersfoort. Really old, like 1800’s old. There were narrow alleys, brothels, orphanages, cafes, etc. I told D we were just going to have to find a place to stay for the night, and when day breaks we’d try and go back to the house early in the morning and gather what we need to really leave for good.

It was raining at this point. We walked the streets, taking shelter from the rain under porches. We were walking on the right side of the street. On the other side of the street we saw a man through the window who appeared to be orally pleasured by a woman, presumably a prostitute. From a window above us on our side of the street a man opened the window and started yelling joking remarks at the woman. “You really need to take a lot from this job, don’t ya!” The man that yelled didn’t see us down below, but the man that was being pleasured did. But he didn’t do anything, I presume out of shame.

But to the window next to us on our side of the street the face of a young little girl appeared. She was about 8 years old. She must’ve heard all the yelling and had become curious about what was going on, and now she had discovered us. She looked at me for a few seconds, in a moment of silence and anticipation on both sides of that window. It was a short moment of awkward social contact. But then her look strayed to my neck and this startled her. She noticed we did not have any implants. Her eyes widened, and in her neck now several small LED lights switched on and started blinking rapidly.

Frightened she took a few steps back away from the window, still not having said a word. The room she was in had been completely dark, but because of these flickering lights in her implant some features of the room became visible to us. Horrified I noticed how the whole back wall of this elongated darkened room was filled with people sitting on one long row of benches like those in gym class. They were mixed, young and old, numbering about 30 people total, and they all appeared to be sleeping. But the moment I saw them I also saw their implants be activated. Lights in each of their necks started flickering on and off, and it lit up the room. Immediately after this they woke up, looked at us, and stood up. The network had activated them.

D and I knew intuitively that those that wanted to inject us now also knew where we were, because all these people were connected to a hive mind of sorts. We ran, as fast as we could. We ran and ran and ran until I had reached a hideout I knew from long ago when I was just a kid in real life. D was no longer with me now. Not that I had abandoned her or anything, but she was just not part of this phase of the dream. I was alone there, and I hid for a large angry mob that was looking for me.

It was a strange place, next to a little ditch with calm flowing water, but behind some kind of dam with lots of vegetation so I could easily stay out of sight here. I had a really dry and sore throat for some reason. It really bothered me. Then someone came sitting there along the ditch a little further away. They whore old worn-out clothes. They sat down next to a little brick wall that was part of an old bridge that once spanned across the ditch. It was a woman, not too old, maybe a little older than I. She was homeless, I assumed. I went over to her, because I wanted to have some social interaction with someone. We were equals, because I now too was homeless.

I greeted her, but my voice was really hoarse, I could barely talk. She had an old coke cola bottle with water that was not entirely clean, but drinkable. She offered me the water. I accepted it gracefully. But it didn’t help. Even though I had drank it all and had taken efforts to rinse the back of my throat with it, I still had the sensation there was sand in the back of my throat. She got another bottle, this one with a little bit of actual cola. She offered it to me. She was most generous. I felt shame it still didn’t help my voice.

With a hoarse voice I spoke with her. I don’t remember about what, but I do recall I explained some of my philosophies to her. We spoke about the current state of the world. This woman had refused the treatment as well. But all of a sudden while talking to her I realised I wanted to get D out of that world. I somehow knew she now resided in my parents’ old home. I instantly teleported myself there. It was night-time still, and the rain was poring harder and harder. D was inside the house, which was completely dark. She was hiding under the window. I appeared and hugged her, and told her if she came with me I could get her out of this world. She did.

I was now able to fly, as sometimes I can in my dreams. And I wasn’t nervous about it as I sometimes was in other dreams. From the front yard I grabbed 2 big tarps, wrapped them around the two of us in a certain way to prevent us from getting too wet by the rain. She hugged me tightly and I held on to her and the tarps, and took to the sky. We flew over the house in the direction of a neighbourhood with flats. The flying part went really well. As we gained height the weather cleared up. Down below we could see a mass of people with blinking implants. They tried to follow us, climbed trees and the flats as if to try and get near us, but we were out of their range. I could fly and we could now go anywhere we’d like now. We were no longer afraid.

Date: 30-09-2021 

This afternoon I was tired and went to bed for a power nap. I fell asleep and dreamt a short but intense dream. I was sitting on the top of my brother’s bunk bed in our old childhood room. I sat on my behind with my legs pulled towards my torso. My legs were under the covers. The ceiling was gone, or transparent. It was night time, and the sky was cloudless. The stars were out, bright. Suddenly one of the stars started flickering, and eventually dimmed until it was barely visible. There were a lot of birds in the trees and on the roofs, which were quite noisy, but who all had their gaze to the same part of the horizon. They were looking at something I could not see. Then the dimmed star started to fall down and rapidly but ever so gently ended up on the covers, as if it was a small marble.

I looked at it, and I began to understand this wasn’t real. But I wasn’t aware it was a dream just yet. I looked at the marble that lay between my legs on top of the silky white sheets, as I now sat cross-legged. “We never had these sheets? And how can the ceiling be gone?” All of a sudden I became aware the bed was surrounded by white Angels. Their skin was illuminating, and so were the robes they wore. I could barely make out any details on them, but I could see they consisted out of a mix of male and female Angels. All of them remained quiet. Still I was not aware it was a dream, though. I was trying to figure out what was going on. I focussed on the marble again, and reached out for it with my right hand in order to pick it up.

But when I did one of the Angels spoke and said: “Careful. It’s still hot.” with a sweet voice. Then it finally hit me. This was a dream. I looked around me, up in the sky with amazement. It was wonderful to see the stars like this. While I gazed up, the Angels encouraged me: “Yes. By all means, take a good look.” I got the sense that there was a bit of stress in the air. Not from the Angels, but from other people outside or something. It is hard to explain, but I felt as if there was a sense of coming dread that lingered in people’s minds. Like we were in the eye of a storm. And I could pick up on that. But I felt safe. The Angels would protect me. But whatever was going on, something was about to happen. And I think that’s why they were there.

Analysis:

I am unsure what this dream was about. There seems to have been a lot of symbolism in this dream, though the looming threat is something that I think was the one thing that was not figurative. I believe the birds resembled observant humans. The birds knew something was about to happen. They can see with sharp eyes, can go higher to take a better look, and can get out of harm’s way quickly when needed.

The Angels that surrounded me I think showed me they have taken notice of me. Perhaps they were showing me a fondness they have for me? Or were there to guide me through what was going to occur? I do not know.

I was sitting on the top of my brother’s childhood bunk bed. Back when we were children we both had our own, slept on the top, and had toys on the bottom plateaus. But I wasn’t sitting on my own bed, but on his. I didn’t know those sheets, but they were the whitest smoothest silk I can imagine. Maybe this refers to me being in his position at that moment, or showing me I need to try and place myself in his shoes?

The star that dimmed and fell must be some metaphor for something that is going to happen. It was supposedly too hot for me to touch, but it didn’t burn the sheets. Were these perhaps heavenly sheets that covered me? What does the marble stand for? Why did it fall in my lap?

It was my childhood bedroom. Maybe this showed me that I am still a child spiritually, amongst a host of wise and mature spiritual beings?

That dark sky full of stars was wonderful, though. I took that moment in. That something bad was going to happen didn’t deter me from looking around, and somehow it felt like it was a pleasant surprise to the Angels that I took that moment for myself.

Date: 29-07-2021 

This dream started somewhere on the streets of Amersfoort. I was with D. We came across my friend JH. I told JH how I had accepted a new job, cause in that dream I was asked to be a chef for a restaurant, somewhere in Suriname. JH was excited. He thought it was fantastic news. He then told us he is actually from Suriname (in real life he is actually from Indonesia). I responded to that stating I could possibly run into family of his there then. He said that indeed a brother of his still lives there.

Then an old Indonesian man on a mobility scooter drove towards us and stopped next to us on the road. JH and this old man were exhilarated at the sight of the other. This was that brother of his! They performed a kind of complicated handshake and hugged. Then JH introduced us to each other. I am not sure but I think his name was Mike or Michael. Mike was a very joyful old man. He looked somewhat like my friend JH too. It was clear they were related. But Mike had a much darker skin than JH. I thought to myself this must be because Mike lives in a much sunnier part of the world. Mike’s hair was black though, maybe he had put a dye in it. Mike was a guy without any shame and seemed to enjoy life to the fullest.

“This is Willem!” said JH to him. “Ah, so you’re Willem. It’s good to meet you, Willem. I have so much to tell you. The both of you.” But before he told us anything they first had a brotherly moment, where they seemed to re-enact a routine of theirs from their younger days. Mike got out of the scooter, and performed some kind of improvized dance. It was hilarious! JH told me his brother is 72 years old. “Seventy Eight!” Corrected Mike. That sparked a back and forth between them, but Mike maintained he was 78 years of age. Mike then told me he was famous as he had gotten a part in the TV-series ‘The Big Bang Theory’, which is a comedy about nerds. He performed a piece of a scene where he was in, but neither D nor I recalled the scene. I whispered into JH’s ear: “I’ve never seen that series.” JH winked at me, and whispered back: “Neither have I.”

While the two of them talked (and they had so much to tell each other) I really needed to go to the toilet. We were near my parents’ house, so I thought I’d pop in and relief myself there. I walked up the driveway and to the little square in front of the garage. There was a white fan parked on the square, and around it I saw a cat, a baby bird, and a squirrel. The cat was chasing after the other two animals. He couldn’t catch the squirrel, but the little chick was about to be caught by the cat. I intervened. At first I did not intend to hurt the cat, and just scared him off, then picked up the little birdy.

But my scare tactic had only worked temporarily, as the cat returned, now focussing its efforts on catching the squirrel. Now I got physical, and managed to land a soft slap on the cat’s head. It ran off. I put the chick on the ground now, thinking this was over, but as soon as I had turned my back and walked away, this dreadful cat returned and continued to chase the other animals, again! I realised this cat would just keep returning to this spot to kill these animals if I didn’t give it a reason to stay away. With all my strength I landed a kick on the hind leg of the cat, and it screamed out in a loud cry, after immediately running off, with me in pursuit for the first 20 feet, still trying to land more kicks, to ensure it would not return. But the neighbours had obviously heard the cry of pain from this cat, and I had no idea who’s cat this was. It could’ve been theirs, so I left in a hurry without even going to the toilet.

I had forgotten about needing to relieve myself, and returned to JH and his brother. They apparently had taken walk together, and Mike now no longer had nor needed a mobility scooter. He did still have his cane. I do not know where D was. She was no longer part of this scene as if she had not been there the whole time. I caught up with them and then Mike started explaining to me about how he knew the elite will try to push through their digital currency. “They’ve been working towards this a long long time. They will freeze all bank accounts.” I interjected: “Most financial assets are invested assets.” “Exactly!” Replied Mike firm but calmly: “They will claim it happened through a hack. They will make everyone’s digital money disappear. Only bank accounts of – let’s say – 50 million will they not touch. Then they’ll introduce their new coins. Digital coins. A global currency. This cannot be stopped. It will happen.”

Then, suddenly, I was in Suriname. I was at my new job. The surroundings were beautiful jungle, and the village where I resided consisted of all wooden structures. It was lively and everyone there was very friendly. My dad who had passed away was there too. I too had my own wooden house. A few very pretty young ladies lived next door to me, in their own wooden house. They were joking on the porch about how I lived there “all alone” and was “so lonely”. I joked back at them saying: “I’m only alone at night in my big comfortable bed.” As if suggesting they should visit me then. “Oh, because D isn’t here, right?” She winked. But it was all jokes. We all knew it. I had been unabatedly loyal to D even in this far away world. And I wasn’t lonely at all, because I enjoyed my own company, and I could literally knock on any door at any time and there would be joyful company waiting for me welcoming me into their house. It was such a nice place. But then I said in a more serious tone to my beautiful neighbour: “D sometimes gets insecure about all these women I know, so perhaps we should lay off the jokes a bit.” She understood and agreed.

There was a small square where our houses were situated around. It wasn’t paved; just sand and dirt. In the middle was some kind of fireplace, or perhaps even a place for a barbecue. That’s where the food was cooked for this community. My dad stood there too and they were busy with making some kind of bread, with meat on it. As for some kind of finishing touch the flame had to crawl over the meat when the meat was put on the bread. My dad couldn’t get that last part right. “Can I give it a try?” I asked him. He handed me the stuff in his hands. I tried, and I succeeded! Though with some improvising, and not entirely as it should have happened, but the end result was just perfect. Flawless even. I felt so at home there at that moment. I truly belonged here. But now the feeling got to me that at home, in The Netherlands, there probably is a lot of misery and suffering, and the people I knew there had to go through it all without any of my help. I thought to myself: “It’s only for a year. Then I’ll return back.” And that’s when I woke up.

Analysis:

JH is an Indonesian man of 68 years of age. The first years of his live he has lived in Indonesia. He’s a Jehovah’s Witness, and one of the most sincere people I have ever met. He’s always happy and joyful, and if he has something serious to say, he always knows how to communicate it with the weight it needs to have. I think in this dream his brother was an Angel. Maybe his comments about having landed a role in The Big Bang Theory comedy series is a metaphor for having had a part to play in the actual big bang; the birth of our universe. Suriname might have been a metaphor for heaven, or otherwise another place of enlightenment.

The cat, the chick, and the squirrel scene perhaps depict things that are going to happen in our world. The power of evil, hunting the innocent, just like the elite misuse their power as if they have no equal in power that could challenge them.

I can only guess to the implications of the metaphor of this dream that suggests I will go to Suriname for one year, but whatever it is, I am open to it. I want that. It feels like something I want to do because I can do it, and because it can help humanity.

The warnings Mike voiced I think I can take quite literally. He said it would happen and that it cannot be stopped. He was crystal clear in his wording. But he didn’t say it would remain so. I think it will implode. Whatever the elite will try to get us to accept this digital currency and with it digital slavery, it will not take.

Date: 23-03-2021

This dream was very abstract and I only remember certain pieces of it. Let me see what I can recover.

The scene where this took place was a very large round room, that went up very high. I couldn’t even see the ceiling. There was a lot of floodlights up high or something, but it was distant. It looked very much like the Klingon Court room from the Star Trek universe. Its walls were also rough and rocky. And just like in Star Trek, there were rows dug out of the rock wall where seats were placed. There was an audience in the room 360 degrees round and stacked up on each other on different levels, as far as I could see. But the audience was a mix of onlookers, defendants, and jury members. They were all mixed, so they sat next to each other on any and every level.

I was seated on a wooden bench, somewhere on the ground floor, down below. As far as I know I was an onlooker. Someone was being brought to justice. I didn’t see a lawyer. I don’t think there was one. There was a judge, with both to his left and right three higher jury members, so seven in total. They were all situated on a raised desk that stood on top of a wooden pedestal. Any person who was being brought to justice in this court just had to listen to the proof that was being presented, and the ruling that followed it. But the sense I got from the atmosphere was not bitter or grim. There was understanding and forgiveness in this court. I think the higher jury members and the judge were Angels. There was something supernatural about them. But they were not without judgement, and they presented the proof and brought the verdict in a stern tone.

The person that was now being judged stood on the ground floor of the round chamber, down below in front of the high jury. He was dressed really well. I recall thinking that he did this to appeal to the court, but I recall I had an inner dialogue where I realised that it doesn’t matter how you look: “Under our clothes everyone is naked, and we all have to take a shit sometimes.” I also thought to myself that this guy must’ve been a real heartless jackass during his life. He really looked it. But before this court it seems he had let go of that persona, and what remained was a sad little weasel. He stood with his head bowed down in front of the judge and jury. In front of this panel was a table where evidence was presented.

But now comes the interesting part. He stood trial for something really bad. Something like corruption and self-enrichment at the cost of the freedom and joy of the life of others he cared not for. Something along those lines. Something that had influenced the whole world really really negatively, any way. A real corrupt and greedy bastard. But in this court, his abuse was transformed into a metaphor by the judge and the higher jury members. This made it easier to understand for everyone what he had done exactly. At a gesture of one of the high jury members, a piece of clothing materialised on this table. But it wasn’t a piece of clothing that was the metaphor, but the making of that piece of clothing that was tainted. That labour stood for the suffering of others, and the piece of clothing was the end product. When this thing materialised, all manner of things started happening.

The piece of clothing was weaved with many different colours of thread. Let’s say it was a shawl to make this easier to understand. It was clearly visible the shawl consisted out of many different threads, each with its own distinct colour. The many different colours were metaphors for the many different motives to create the shawl by all those that were involved in its creation. And most colours were actually fine, meaning those were good motives, nothing punishable. Some were truly good motives even. But one thread with a specific colour was the bad one. It was weaved in and out throughout the whole shawl.

It was visible on all parts of the shawl, and it looked like it didn’t even have to had been part of the shawl at all. This one symbolised the bad, and it stood for all the suffering it had caused. Everyone present in that courtroom, regardless of their role, understood this. But besides this shawl materialising, something else began to manifest. From the shawl led many different threads to people seated in the courtroom. They connected them at their hearts, as if the thread entered their body. But not everyone could see every thread, and everyone also understood this instantly. You could only see the threads of the connections you were aware of. These threads symbolised how other people were connected to the creation of this shawl, whether good or bad. It’s even possible some people didn’t even see their own thread, but everyone knew at some level what conduct they had in it all and to which extent they were complicit.

But this web of threads kept growing. The more people saw the more they understood the bigger picture. The structure of threads kept growing and expanding, and from the table at the centre it became apparent that it was a very interconnected situation. There were even threads between people, to showcase how they had influenced each other into the events that led to the creation of the shawl. And after a short while it became apparent that everyone in that courtroom was connected to this, with the exception of the judge and his six higher jury members. The biggest question of all on everyone’s mind was; who were connected to the shawl through the bad thread? The one for which the person in question stood trial. It was up to the higher jury members to figure this out now.

But because the structure of the threads had become so huge and was an apparent mess it was not at all clear where the bad thread led towards. Some people had multiple threads connected to them, and sometimes multiple colours. It wasn’t clear who had what part in the bad. But the answer to that came, as the high jury through telekinesis unweaved the threads slowly. And everyone present in the room felt a bit of anxiety, and maybe even some fear, because we all thought to ourselves: “Is it possible I have a share in the blame?” And as it turned out, that was true for everyone. Everyone. The bad thread ran through everyone in that court, except again the judge and high jury.

Not everyone was equally guilty, as not everyone was connected equally strong to the bad thread than others. Some had a bigger share in the blame than others. The man who stood trial was unmistakably the most guilty by far. He was connected with the bad thread from head to toe. There was no denying it. He had been a very bad person. But with everything now having been made easy to understand by the metaphor I actually felt pity for him. I too had a bad thread that led from the shawl straight into my torso. Because of this I felt complicit. I think everyone felt that way. I pondered whether if no one had connected themselves to this bad thread if this man standing trial would even have done what he did. Maybe we all created the circumstances for him to do what he did.

Analysis:

I can keep this short. Whatever bad happens in the world through the systems in which we live, we all have our part to play, and we all share in the blame. At least most of us. And probably not all to the same degree, and also probably some few share the absolute bulk of it, but few hands are truly clean.

Date: 13-03-2021 

I think I didn’t accurately record the date for this dream. It was dated on 11-03-021, but perhaps that’s when I last made an edit. I put it on the 13th, but only because I don’t want push it back further than what I can be sure of. Here’s the dream:

This dream started on a shopping ship. I have no idea if such a thing even exists. It was a giant ship, the size of a cruise ship, and it was filled with shops like it was a floating shopping-mall. Every floor had its own theme; toys, electronics, furniture, etc. But sometimes just random shops that didn’t fit the theme. I was on “the ground floor” which was the floor on which you boarded the ship. Below and above us were more floors. My mom was with me, but she went to do her own thing quite early in the dream. We would do our things separately from here.

I was looking for a toilet, because, yes, this again; I had to pee. But then I recalled I had talked to a hacker online, and he had advised me to purchase an external DVD-player. And I remembered this hacker was also on this vessel, so I just started shouting his name, hahaha. Other people even joined in, and miraculously the calls were answered. The reply came from the toilet area. Good! I was looking for the bathroom too, so now I found both him and the bathroom.

The toilet stalls were more like the fitting rooms you’d find in clothing shops. There was a toilet bowl, a coat stand, and a curtain you could draw for privacy. A little boy emerged behind one of the curtains, maybe 10 years of age. He asked out loud: “Which one of you is called ‘Monster’?” In the dream this was the nickname I had used, so I replied to him. I asked him about the DVD-player he had recommended. But he was in defensive mode: “I’m not talking.” I was surprised. He affirmed: “I’m not talking until you prove you are who you claim you are.” It was a smart way for him to confirm if I wasn’t anyone else trying to out him. Everyone could’ve said yes to his question. I showed him our conversation on my phone, and added additional details. He lowered his guard, and turned out to be real friendly.

He was just cautious being a hacker and all. He gave me directions to a few shops where I would be likely to get the device from for a decent price. I set out to look for those shops, forgetting about my own need to use the bathroom. While walking I suddenly entered the greenhouse at my work, and it was being renovated. I saw people I knew but also many I didn’t. They were working really hard, but also the plants were being taken care of; they were being sprayed with some kind of “care fluid” and dead leafs were being removed. In the dream I “wondered off” for a couple of hours, and returned to the greenhouse to find the renovation works were finished. It looked extraordinarily fine at first glance.

That was until I came across a bunch of dead plants. They still had their form, but they were all brown in colour. My boss had joined me now and saw the dead plants. He told me he wasn’t going to let this go. “They’re going to reimburse us!” He said. As he walked out I noticed that the renovations had included a sprinkler system in the hallway. And these new sprinklers sprang on just as I noticed them. Because they were spraying so hard and nowhere in particular, most water didn’t end up in plant pots, but would just spill over the floor. The hallway floor was getting wet and a puddle was creeping over the floor in the direction of our wooden tribune stairs.

I quickly found a large floor squeegee to move the water in the direction of a drain. The renovation works had included the placement of extra drains, which was something we had requested a few times actually. Part of the puddle seemed to move itself towards the drain, and I wondered how long this had been going on, cause me and my colleagues occasionally found “mystery pools” of water inside the greenhouse for real, so in the dream I reasoned that maybe this was the source. I kept using the floor squeegee to prevent water damage to the tribune stairs, but meanwhile my need to use the bathroom had come back, and I really needed to address this now. I no longer could postpone it, so I left this water drama as I found it.

Walking through the enormous structure I couldn’t find any bathrooms at all. Eventually I did find a train station. Curious. On a ship. On the station itself there were no toilets, but there was a train standing idle at one of the platforms. Trains have toilets, so I just entered the train. It didn’t matter where it went, I desperately needed to relieve myself. The doors closed and the train started moving while I searched for its latrine. And I found it, opened the door, saw an enormously spacious long narrow bathroom, where in the back a man was standing, using the toilet. Maybe he had forgotten to lock the door? I closed the door again, and waited outside until he exited. When he did, I entered, locked the door behind me, and went looking for the toilet in this enormous room.

I again couldn’t find it! It looked different now, like I had to crawl through some maintenance cabins with all sorts of panels, hatches, beams, tubes, etc. Finally I arrived in the main area. There was a bench where someone else was waiting. It seemed like a passenger and not someone waiting to use the toilet. It was confusing. But in the back I finally saw the actual toilet bowl. But to the immediate left side of the bowl sat two Indian looking men, squatted. They were just talking there… I addressed the man on the bench, and asked him whether he was aware he was in the toilet area. He knew: “Yes, but the train was so busy, and I really wanted a place to sit.” The train was indeed quite busy. “Would you mind if I made use of the facilities?” I asked. “No, not at all. Go right ahead.” He answered.

I walked to the toilet bowl, where those men were talking in Hindi. I truly needed to go now, so I did not bother with my manners. Who in their right mind would choose this place to sit down and have a talk, next to a public toilet bowl?! I firmly said: “Sorry, but I have to use the toilet.” They looked up angrily and did nothing. They stayed in place, so I just opened my fly. Still they didn’t move! So, after a few seconds, I just whipped it out, and started doing my business. But these two men still didn’t fucking move! They were just giving me the angry eyes while I stood there, pissing. What was wrong with these guys? I did try not to create too much of a splatter, but the train now entered its next station, meaning it was swinging left to right as it crossed a bunch of junctions to get to the right entry track. And of course, my stream promptly took a path over the pants of the man nearest to the bowl.

And he got all mad at me, but started his angry rant in Hindi. Of course I couldn’t understand a word he said, and it was unclear to me whether he spoke no Dutch at all or whether this man was simply impolite to an extreme degree. But I was mad at him too, obviously. So I interjected him and said: “Look, man. Don’t like getting pissed on? Then don’t sit there!” Now a fourth person entered the room which I was pretty sure I locked. That explained why I was able to enter the first time; the lock was broken. It might also explain why there were so many people in this particular space at all. There should only be one person at any one given time.

It was getting too crowded in there and that Indian guy didn’t shut up either, so I left. I wanted to find out which train I was in. I tried to get this info by using a travelling app, to no avail. The maps app didn’t work either. But then the conductor announced over the intercom which train this was. It was the train to Maastricht via Venlo. That shocked me slightly. None of these cities were anywhere near a place I would call close to home. It was going to be a long journey back home. I got off at the station. I think this was Venlo. It was an old city. There were canals, maybe a lake or very large pond? It looked like some place I might have visited before. I walked around and I felt differently.

I felt like I was light as a feather. Every time I pushed off from the ground, it would take longer and longer for me to come back down to the ground. The harder I pushed and the more often I did so, the longer this took. Like a man walking on the moon I moved quite rapidly along a path along side the water. It was busy with pedestrians. I literally jumped over everyone else, but I wasn’t the only one to do this. Others apparently were able to do this too. Everyone had their own way of doing it, and everyone had a different level of skill. Some barely got off the ground while others flew through the sky like rockets. It was amazing!

I wanted to try and fly like them, so I tried to find out what my maximum time of remaining airborne was, without pushing off. I found out that I didn’t have to push myself off the ground at all, I would just hover all by myself by thinking it. Through my will I could change my direction and height. This I tried for a while, practising this new found skill. I sometimes made swimming movements, but that was out of reflex. It wasn’t necessary. I got better at it, and it was so incredibly cool. I decided I would just fly home instead of taking the train, and was looking forward to that journey. But first I needed to relax a bit. Like I was laying in a hammock I rested just above the grass near the side of the water. This was very enjoyable. I took it all in. What a day.

After spending some time resting, I was ready. I was going to fly back home. I did give myself a little push with my foot, but it wasn’t necessary. I levitated upwards. But while I was trying to get my bearings, I saw someone I knew, walking on the street. It was an old colleague of mine, and her nickname was Rose. She had two young children with her. Rose was always a sight to behold, but her hair was now even more beautiful than it used to be. She was almost illuminating. Her hair was also straight now, where it used to be curly, and it was loose, where she would normally wear it in a ponytail. When she saw me it seemed I had startled her a bit.

I must’ve been illuminating myself too, and I was the first to say something: “Hi Rose! How are you? You look magnificent!” She was happy to see me. We had a brief conversation. Most of the details of this escaped me. I do recall it was sometimes slightly awkward. She had been through a lot. And she now had two children. But she was happy now. I told her about my long lasting quest to find a toilet, and how I ended up here after pissing over some Indian guy’s legs. We had a laugh at the surreality of it. She wished me luck flying back home. “Thanks, Rose! I wish you well.” I replied. Then I took off.

I flew over the city centre. It consisted out of old houses and narrow alleyways. But as I went along, I felt I was slowly losing my flying mojo, and I had to occasionally push myself off again on the tops of the buildings, or grip myself on the rain drainage. But I found that all the houses had some kind of decorative ridges along their walls just under the roof tiles and drainage. I could sometimes take a moment to rest there, or push off again when I needed to. Very convenient, as if it was made for this. I began losing ever more flying abilities, and I was “stumbling” while airborne, struggling to maintain height and direction.

I rested some more on the a ridge that was above an outside terrace where people were seated under a parasol. They were all old folk, enjoying a beverage in the summer evening sun. I kept quiet so they wouldn’t hear me, and I overheard them talking. They were talking about the very ridges along the houses I was resting on. An old lady explained: “A long time ago, in the early days, there were people who could build works of art using just words. We called them truth speakers. These people could fly. Those ridges were made for them so they could rest here. We wanted them to feel welcome here, cause they came from afar. They were Veeners.”

I was listening to this and thought to myself this description does seem to fit me. “So I am a Veener? Curious. And I am a truth speaker!” There was a moment of realisation. I found it fascinating. I realised I had to get back home, to finish what I started; my website. Then I woke up. Take a guess what I really needed to do when I woke up.

Analysis:

Last night before I went to bed I had made changes to a part of my website I was not happy about. Something about it was wrong and some things were missing, and so I wanted to improve that chapter. I think I now succeeded in writing down what it was supposed to be. The passage I have written and adapted are about what I dubbed ‘the Spark of Life’. In Dutch, a ‘spark’ is called ‘vonk’. The last name of my colleague is the Dutch word for Spark. Make of it what you will.

Date: 12-03-2021 

Introduction:

Last night I didn’t sleep too well. I had some stomach cramps which I also sometimes felt in the dream world. Of the many dreams I had I recall two.

Jealous:

The first dream involved my brother and sister. I think this took place in my sister’s house, but I also recognised elements from the neighbourhood where my student dorm was where I had lived. I recall a gate door at the front of the house, that closed off an alleyway that led to the back of the house. It was a sliding door, white in colour. I had opened it and went around back, where I met my sister who I had come to visit. But unbeknownst to me our brother was there too, and he was not in a good mood. He was mad at me, and I felt from his energy that this anger was based on something unfair. He berated me about my website. Apparently things had been leaked from the website, which was strange as the website is publicly available online. Everyone can see it. But I got the sense his anger was actually concealed jealousy. This is why.

He took the approach that in his opinion my dreams are “just dreams” and they don’t hold any significance. He criticised me for having published things on my site from the context of being inspired by vivid dreams, but that was nonsense according to him. But while listening through his rant I discovered what this was actually about. He had read my encounter with our dad in a lucid dream, and put emphasis on how that wasn’t real. It was a dream. His jealousy was evident. He didn’t begrudge me that experience, and in his eyes I didn’t have any right to interpret it as anything other than just a dream. But he referred to lucid dreams he himself had which he argued were actually real, and which had revealed to him the dream world was more real than what we call the real world. I figured he was jealous because he wanted to have had this lucid experience with dad himself.

Because I had sensed how his rant was based on dishonest and unfair reasoning, I was able to keep my cool. I chose to flat out ignore him. But deep inside his words hurt me, and they struck a nerve which I felt developing into anger towards this man. He had so much potential to wake up and stay awake. It was through him I found my awakening, because of our interactions after he had a crisis a few years back. I did not want another fight. It was bad enough he didn’t want to talk to me at all, but I’d rather have that than have some kind of meaningless argument with him. But now he got mad at me for ignoring him, and that made me bite my tongue. He himself ignored me when I asked him to talk things through.

I angrily interjected him, and exclaimed: “You were the one to ignore me, so don’t you want me to leave you alone then? Cause that’s what I am doing now. Maybe you can leave me alone too?” He had no reply to that, and relented in silence. He then sat down again, morphed into a younger version of himself – about 10 years old – but kept morphing and morphing until he turned into some short legged black beast, that melted into a gooey puddle of shiny tar-like liquid that slithered away over the floor. In the dream itself this was completely normal and not out of place, but when I woke up I realised how utterly bizarre that part of the dream was. I left my sister’s house shortly after, and had to take a series of blue buses, all different bus lines. At some point M was with me again and we travelled together. Whatever was bothering him earlier he now got out of his system and we were kind to each other again.

Empty:

The second dream I had has mostly escaped me. This I remember. It was about some kind of artificial tropical paradise that was being built. Me and D were also involved in the design of that place, and we were walking along a path where new sunbathing slots had to be placed. We divided the available space into squares in such a way there would be room for a parking lot. D was holding a piece of paper, or possibly even an iPad, and whenever she drew something it would immediately be placed like it was a virtual environment.

I don’t recall much of the things that happened, but I do recall the atmosphere and my mood. The tone of this place was dull. Empty. It didn’t have a soul. We did what we did, some meaningless task in preparation of a meaningless activity in an uninspiring place. It was barren, there was only grass. The sunbathing slots were indicated by black rubber tiles like the ones you’d find on playgrounds under the swing and tumble bars. I wasn’t happy there.

Date: 11-03-2021 

Where this dream started was fuzzy. A lot of things had already transpired from where I was able to pick up memories of this dream, but I forgot them, or they were too abstract to remember. We (me and a group of friends) we walking in a cosy little street with shops on either side in some kind of tropical place. The shops all had stalls in front of their display windows, where they sold additional products. In the dream I knew all the people in our group, but I can only name my mother as one of them I actually know in this live. While we were browsing around I saw one of the teachers of a former school I went to (ROCMN). Her name is JdJ.

The moment she saw me she looked back at me with an angry face. I knew what this was about. (Something happened at that school a long time ago. Long story. I was in the right.) But I did not feel any shame or guilt about it, as I knew I had done the right thing back then. Nevertheless I was happy to see her, and greeted her. Twice, as she did not reply the first time. She tried to maintain a disapproving angry demeanour towards me, but the second time I greeted her in my friendly manner I broke through that wall, and she relaxed and smiled.

She asked me (in English, for some reason): “Willem, do you safe up money on a savings account?” I answered this to her in Dutch: “Yes I do. At least, I do when I can.” This wasn’t completely true. She answered: “If you can. Hmmmm. That’s good.” I followed up with a question of my own: “Quite a personal question. Why do you wish to know this?” She smiled: “Oh, I don’t care to know the information, I was just curious whether you would answer honestly.” I hadn’t.

We moved on. I now met a girl with long dark hair. Quite a cute girl. She was about my age. I knew her in the dream. She was happy to see me, and I was happy to see her too. We went into a restaurant, and went out back where they had a sun terrace, and a small field of grass where kids could play and people could sit. On that grassy field were a lot of people, also many of who I knew. One of them was Luke. I have no idea who Luke is in real life but in the dream the girl and I had gone to the same school as Luke, and the three of us were in the same class. Luke was always a short child, but he was still short in his adult life, no more than 4 feet tall. He did get a good bit broader though, and therefore looked like a muscular school child.

I called out to him. He was actually playing with the young children there, even though he was an adult. Luke came over and we talked. I mentioned his height (or lack thereof) and Luke was quite at peace with it. He didn’t take offence where neither I meant any. But he often didn’t hear me well, and at one point I actually picked him up and carried him on my arm, like he was a child. I jokingly said: “Here, now you can see the world from my height.” He laughed: “Yeah, this is much better.”

I walked a few paces towards the girl I was with. The three of us talked until a group of children ran past us, emersed in a play. Luke jumped off my arm and joined them in their play. The girl giggled: “Look at him. He looks just like a kid!” I laughed too: “Yeah, he hasn’t changed much. He did get more muscular though. He looks like a kid that has been bench pressing for the Olympic games.” We laughed together and watched Luke and the kids play. Luke was totally fine with who he was. Truly admirable.

The girl I was with wanted to cuddle. A friendly cuddle, to be clear. We found my mother’s old rocking chair inside the restaurant and we crawled into it together. But my mom was in the restaurant too, and she had overheard us talking, and wanted to join us. Since it was her chair we didn’t feel like we could refuse her, so the three of us crawled into the chair. Though the chair was big, it would probably already have been quite cosy with just the two of us. Since my mother was not nearly as skinny as the girl and I, it was simply uncomfortable for all of us. I quickly decided that I did not want this, and neither did the girl. I had to pee, so that was a perfect excuse to go, and the girl went with.

The restaurant was now actually the living room of my old house where that chair used to be. The rest of the furniture matched the time of when that rocking chair stood there. I went out, and went upstairs to the upstairs bathroom. Upstairs, things had drastically changed. It looked like some kind of lookout post, with a large glass pain facing the street. I sat down on the toilet, but immediately noticed curtains being drawn aside in the houses on the other side of the street. People had seen me. But then I noticed a curtain rail above the glass window, and that rail went all the way to the back of the toilet. Behind the toilet bowl I saw the same burgundy curtains as we had downstairs, and I drew them closed. That almost went sideways because there was no stopper at the end of the rail, but I was able to fix that. When I was finished I still wasn’t relieved. I still had to go.

I went outside now, where I joined the group of people I was with earlier. It was dark now. We walked into the direction of the adjacent street. On that street was a kind of parade ongoing. But nothing about the parade was fun. Everyone was bored and it was very unspectacular and dull. It was organised by the government to give us something to look forward to during lockdowns. But it was stupendously shitty. It ended with a fireworks show, but it was increasingly evident that everyone agreed that it was even more shitty than the shitty parade. Nobody cared. Compared to my fireworks shows, this was child’s play. Since the lockdowns, fireworks had been forbidden in NL. In the dream I came to the realisation I might never again make such a show with large calibre fireworks. It had been abolished.

The parade now over, I saw some of my old fireworks in a box on the street, like I had forgotten to bring them in last year and they had just stood there all year. I said to the others: “With only this little box I could’ve made something more impressive than that shitty show we just saw.” There were a lot of young children among our number, and so I lighted some of my fireworks to improve the mood. They loved it! Then all my friends got onto the back of a cart pulled by a tractor, that slowly drove off, crossing the street. My friends called my name and signalled me to join them. I jumped on, and it moved off. In the air we could still see the smoke of the shitty fireworks show.

But looking at the smoke we now also saw the stars were out, and they were truly pretty. Too pretty, I’d say, like it was fake. It looked like an over exposed deep space telescope photo, all across the sky. We could see stars, planets, nebulas, galaxies. You name it we saw it. But then I noticed something. Something truly bizarre. There was a dog in the air. It was walking, in mid air. It was at a height about where the smoke was, and it was walking into the direction of the smoke, like there was an invisible glass pane there. I pointed the dog out to everyone: “Check this out! Look! There’s a dog in the sky! How did it get over there?” We all stared at it confused and wondering. We didn’t understand how this could happen. It was so strange!

Someone mentioned that they had seen that exact dog with us on ground level when the parade was ongoing. I too recalled that when they mentioned this. I thought to myself: “Do these government faggots have something to do with this?” Cause I did not understand what I was seeing, and how it was possible. I also didn’t know if this dog was hurt by this. Was it perhaps dead and trapped in a world in between ours and the realm of the dead? Was this a secret government experiment? I didn’t know exactly what had caused this, but I was quite certain I was looking at something I was not allowed to have seen, and it felt like something that some agency wanted to keep secret, and not some natural anomaly.

The tractor continued driving, and we eventually ended up in an unpleasant urban neighbourhood, but I don’t recall much of what happened there. When I woke up – you guessed it – I really had to take a leak, haha.

Date: 10-03-2021

This is the most fun dream I have had in a long time. I became lucid.

The dream started in a somewhat confusing setting. I was staying somewhere in a bungalow perhaps, near a forest. Something like a vacation house or bed and breakfast. I am not sure about the nature of why I was there, but what I do know is that I left through the front door to go take a stroll through nature. To get to the forest I needed to follow the narrow stream of a creek. The creek took a path through a domestic area. Houses, a shop here and there, a school. It would eventually enter the forest area after a while. Along the way of following the narrow stream, I passed along a lot of construction work and road work. I didn’t pay much attention to it, but it meant that my journey would be accompanied by background noises of hammers hitting iron, blade saws, and loudly talking/yelling workmen.

I followed the stream until I reached the edge of the forest, but from that point onwards the water in the stream seemed to lessen and lessen, until it almost seemed to dry up. And that was indeed what was happening. The further along I followed it the dryer it became. It went from water, to watery, to murky, to muddy, to silt, to wet ground. Some patches were entirely dried up. I kept walking and after some distance I saw a white dove in the mud. And another, and another. I walked closer to the edge of the bank. The ground was pretty solid. I could walk on it, without my feet sinking in.

I approached one of the animals. It was still alive! As I picked it up out of the mud it seemed to awake out of some kind of slumber and flew off in a panic. The next dove, same exact thing. I kept going, and discovered one more after the other. Different animals, too. Not all of them were alive though. Some were dead. I also found rats. It was mostly doves and rats. Someone passed by on the path that ran parallel to the banks of where the stream was. He threw me a judgemental comment, something like telling me I’m nuts or something (“Jij spoort echt niet.”) for doing this, but that remark didn’t stick at all. I had my focus on trying to free the animals that got stuck, and didn’t care what anyone else thought.

Eventually I found a rat that was very far into a stage of decay. I wanted to remove it, still, as I realised that even though it was already dead, its decaying body would contaminate the water. The animals still alive would be killed if the water returned. Alive or dead; all animals had to be removed. And besides this I found it a bit disrespectful to leave dead animals like this, so I removed the dead ones and buried them, using twigs and leafs so I didn’t have to touch them. It became quite a task I had taken onto myself. But there still was this one rat that was so far into its state of decay, I had no means of removing it, other than using my hands. And I didn’t want to do that.

But then I remembered something. On my way to the forest, in the corner of my eye, I had seen one of the many workmen use one of those garbage pincers. I reckoned he would probably allow me to borrow them from him if I asked nicely. So, I went back, but didn’t see that guy anywhere. So I walked around the construction terrain, scanning the ground which had tools scattered all over the place. There was a man in grey overalls wearing a red shirt under them, who looked from a short distance at what I was doing. I paid little attention to him at first. He seemed kinda familiar, but I couldn’t think of where I might know him from. I didn’t look at him directly as to prevent getting into a conversation I had no time for, and kept focused on my task.

I kept searching for that damned thing. And of course he asked me: “What are you looking for?” While I kept looking, I explained it to him in the shortest way I could, leaving out many details: “There is a dead rat in the mud upstream and I want to remove it but don’t have anything on me I can use. I’m looking for one of those garbage pincers.” He then pointed at the ground somewhere and said: “There’s one.” I grabbed it, while thanking him, never once looking directly at him, and went back to the forest, still trying to determine where I knew that guy from. He was so familiar. But I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Eventually I reached the location of the decaying rat. From here I am unsure whether or not I succeeded in getting that thing out of the ditch of mud, cause from this moment something happened that rarely happens to me in dreams. But when it does happen, it is always an amazing experience. And this one might be my favourite one yet.

I realised this was a dream and became lucid. This is how that happened. I suddenly realised who that was. The grey overalls, the red shirt, the tools, his voice: “That was dad… He was working in his company work clothes. But… he was dead. How can that be? But wait a minute, where am I? What kind of strange place is this, and why am I in a forest pulling white animals out of the mud? Hold on… this… is a dream! This is a dream! I’m in a dream!” I could do anything I want now. But of all the things I could do, there was only one thing I wanted to do. I knew this was probably one of few unique chances I would get to see my dad in the beyond and talk to him. All I needed to do was go back to the place in this dream where he was. And so I did.

I literally flew back to the spot, like I was a sentient bottle rocket that flew along the ground. I was there within a second! But the destination of this swift and magical means of movement was the end of the driveway of my dad’s old home; the home where my mother now lives alone. The front door was open, and dad came walking through that door, wearing those same clothes as before, his typical work attire. In his left hand he held his own made wooden case containing his electric screw driver and all its utilities, and in his right hand his signature bucket containing all his other tools, like hammers, saws, wrenches, and what not sticking out the top. His facial expression was typically him, too. My brother and I used to mimic that look and he hated when we did that. He had the typical look on his face when he is tasked with a difficult job; tense and grumpy.

But when he saw me, he relaxed and looked so happy. I ran towards him, and he dropped his stuff as I fast approached him and he caught me. We hugged in a long embrace. Oh man how I had missed this. His badly shaved chin felt like sandpaper on my cheek, as it always would when he hugged us when we were little. I used to dislike it but now it was the best feeling ever. We both cried. I could hear him cry too, which was so not him. He hid his emotions from us, never would’ve allowed to show what he considered weakness. This was a very real and intense moment for us both. The embrace lasted long. Neither of us wanted to let go, as if we both knew the moment would be over soon if we did.

But after a few minutes of crying and hugging, and telling each other how much we loved the other, I was the one to break the embrace. I wanted to tell him what was going on in the world and in my live, and ask him for his help. Cause before I went to sleep, I had suddenly thought of him, and it was a really strong sensation of feeling him. Like he was there. And I just thought to myself I might as well pretend he’s here and talk to him, and if he’s not here, it’s no one’s loss but my own time and effort. I “talked” to him out loud, and asked him that if there was anything he could do for us here on Earth if he would please do that. And so, I tried to ask him in this lucid dream. So I looked at him, still holding his arms, and his arms holding mine. He looked back at me, so happy. I tried to find the words for my request, but I just couldn’t. As I searched for the words I felt I was losing focus, and the lucid part of the dream was slipping away.

But I pushed through. I had to ask this. My will was strong. Crying, and almost convulsing, I got these words out: “Dad, since you left, the world has really turned to shit. It’s so bad. It’s so terribly bad. I don’t know if I can do this, dad.” Dad was quiet. He said nothing. He smiled ever more satisfied. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this relaxed and happy. He was glowing, and didn’t say a word. I wanted to ask him that if he was able to do anything to help from where he was if he would please help, but I didn’t get that chance. Suddenly I was somewhere else.

The dream was now a lot less lucid. Somehow I thought I had woken up, and thought dad had teleported me somewhere. I now was in Amersfoort, in the neighbourhood behind our old house. I had a bike with me, and stood near where the pond is. The bike I had with me was an old rusty one. My brother was there too, also with an old rusty bike. I put the bike away and walked into the alley that leads behind the houses there, and followed it. As if this was now a computer game I was able to pick a weapon, of which a few types of pistols. The swipe menu was just overlaid on my vision, as if reality was augmented for me. I hovered over the different pistols, almost picking a black Glock, but eventually landed on a toy gun. The toy gun had a large magazine so I was able to fire a whole lot of shots with it.

Still following the alley, I found a beautiful garden at the very end. It looked really well maintained, almost like some elven stronghold from ‘the Lord of the Rings’ movies. It was completely overshadowed by the foliage of the trees that stood there. I took it in, and then walked back to the bike. My brother and I started biking. A dude exited one of the yards on a bike just in front of us. Music sounded from his backpack. I think he had some kind of Bluetooth speaker in there. The music was loud and obnoxious. He drifted left to right. Passing him was impossible as he matched our movements. Eventually he took a right turn.

My brother looked back at me, and I signalled him to take the next turn. The layout of the city does not match reality at this point, but we ended up near the street of where our childhood house is. I told my brother: “Dude, this dream I had about dad, I really need to tell this to mom. Come, let’s go there right now.” He replied jokingly: “You want to see mom? You? I cannot believe my ears.” I smiled back at him: “Belief it.” But he got a little more serious now and told me he’d rather not go. I told him I would go any way, whether he would come with me or not. He replied: “I think it is still too early for the two of you to meet again.” “Well, there’s only one way to find out, right?” I replied. He agreed, though maybe a little reluctantly.

We biked along, but somehow didn’t manage to get anywhere near the house, no matter what street we took. I recall ending near the hollow bridge, and meeting our sister, and telling her in detail about the dream I had about dad. I think she accompanied us to the house, but still no matter how hard we tried we would never end up near the house. Every time we got somewhere close, the next street would bring us further away than we were before. And that just continued until I woke up.

Aftermath:

When I woke up, my cheeks and pillow were wet and sticky from all the tears. I must’ve been crying in this reality too when I hugged my dad. My wife was already downstairs when I woke up. Maybe even already at work. And instantly I recognised a few messages that were in this experience. After typing out the dream, I discovered a few more, but there is probably loads I haven’t discovered/understood yet. Besides the amazing experience of hugging my dad who’s been dead almost half a year now, this whole dream experience was filled with so many cryptic events, and weirdly specific details, thoughts, and emotions.

And this experience actually started many hours before the dream, when I was going to bed and had the feeling as if dad was there with me, like he had walked into the room. That feeling only lasted a fraction of a second, but it was there. And I just went with it and said: “Hey old man. I haven’t forgotten you yet (referring to my promise to him when I came to say goodbye). And I don’t want to… Hey, dad, it’s not going to well on Earth right now. If there is anything you can do for us, could you please help us? …I miss you, you know.” I dreamt the dream in the morning, many hours later, but when the dream became lucid I immediately understood this was the result of that request. I thought this was his way of answering.

Analysis:

The creek stands for the world. It isn’t doing well. It dried up. Good people are stuck, in some kind of slumber. Some are already dead.

White doves and rats. Maybe well meaning people and bad people? In the dream I made no distinction. I freed whoever I could. I also felt pity for the rats. They remain animals all the same.

Freeing them I think symbolises what I am doing in real life, which I see as my mission. I design, print, and spread motivational stickers, basically making a meme of world events as I see them. But also am I trying to convince people in my circle that something is wrong about what is happening in the world. I also support the people in the many chat groups that are feeling alone and desperate, and I remove ill meaning people from the chats.

The creek was dry, but it would eventually flow again in the dream. The bodies that were in the mud had to be removed as to not poison the water of the new stream. I think this might symbolise society will restart, and that what is rotten now should not be given a chance to poison the new world again. The old must be removed and buried with due respect.

Dad was working a job. He helped me get a tool I needed for my job. Judging from his facial expression when I truly saw him, he was working on something really difficult. And I think that was the answer to my question, which I had asked out loud in real life, but not even in the other reality. He’s already working on it. He’s doing what he can, and with the tools he knows how to use. He’s possibly helping me too, behind the scenes. Maybe that’s what I had felt the evening before, when I was getting ready to go to bed. In the dream, he didn’t speak much to me, but just looked very happy and satisfied. I want to say he looked proud, but… oh well. I think he didn’t answer as he did not have to say anything, cause he’s already doing what he can, and I am already doing what I can, and even though I said I did not know whether or not I could do it, I think he knows already what I don’t, and judging from how happy he was, I think I will discover in time I will do just fine. And I’d like to think he is proud of me for who I’ve become in picking up the task I took upon me, writing all this work.

A few weeks ago, I called my mom. She’s awake to the extend that she knows something is not right with the motivations of our leaders. It was a deep conversation, and she had to cry often. She is, as me, afraid. But she is not solid at the moment. She is much less grounded than I am. Even though I have my fears, I know I can count on my strong will. But after my exchange with dad in the lucid dream, I think dad sent me to that other dream reality. I ran into my brother, who said it was too early to go to her, and later when we ran into our sister we couldn’t get to our mother. Maybe I have to wait before I visit her, to make sure it is what I want. Or maybe it means that no matter what me and my siblings do, we cannot reach her at this moment.

As a weapon I choose a toy gun. It was able to shoot, though. Maybe this symbolises the stickers that I design? Stickers are found in toy stores too, but with mine I can actually defend my position. They are powerful weapons.

I don’t know who that annoying guy on the bike was. Maybe a warning not to engage with idiots, who are just wasting my time?

Same with the elven garden. What was that about? I do not know. Maybe that paradise is not far from home? Or there will always be islands of serene beauty no matter how the world changes?

Why were my brother and I on rusty old bikes? I don’t know. Seems like an important detail. I haven’t figured it out.

My brother was in this last phase of the dream. It made me realise I miss him. He wanted to go with me to mom, but reluctantly so. I saw good and bad aspects of our relation in the interactions I had with him in this dream. I was rather commanding, which symbolises just that. He listened to me, even though he didn’t think my plan was wise. This most definitely was something that happened in real life sometimes. But we also had fun in the dream. I didn’t detail it and it has evaded my memory, but I recall we were joking around like we always did. And even though I disregarded his warning, I did feel its weight cause I do hold his opinion in high regard. His opinion matters to me, though my actions did not reflect that.

This is one of those dreams I would have loved to get his input on. Maybe in the future he will read it and find his own meaning in this experience.