It started out with a dream. A dream that catapulted into an onslaught of new, and more profound dreams. A dream that made me recall dreams past. And I chased the initial dream. I delighted in the ones that followed, and I twisted them into delusions that lit my soul on fire. I took the old dreams and ripped them apart for clues…anything to help me validate the delusions…anything to validate my existence here on this earth….anything to keep the fire burning inside.

And I burned. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I will never forget that. They never told me that was part of mania. Most likely because it isn’t. To me, it was a kundalini awakening. And what a cruel time for it to show up. What caused what? What came first? Did the mania spark a fire that ran through my soul…a new heightened awareness of my consciousness? Or did the awakening fuel the mania, which was only a spark away from igniting? Did it cause me to get so excited that I tripped and fell into the spell of psychosis? Now all my awakening experiences hold no ground, because it is all dismissed as pure psychosis. And that is a rotten shame.

In any case, it all began with a prophetic dream where I learned to walk through humiliation and grabbed the key of knowledge, in the midst of storms and an unsettled atmosphere. A man I knew was there and he said, ‘hey’; his voice heavy with forgiveness for my future transgressions. I knew in my heart that it was for the future, but I didn’t know how it would happen, why it would happen, or when it would happen. I just knew the look and I knew that ‘hey’. He had forgiven. But it was too late. I had fallen in love with a storm. And I didn’t escape unscathed.

Which led to dreams of knights, particularly him, rescuing me in yet another room incased in knowledge. It led to sifting through countless past dreams, which I sat decoding for weeks. If I could have only stopped my future self from taking things too literally and too far over the edge.

I cannot express into words what I saw over the next 5 months. Synchronicities, signs and wonders that only confirmed everything I had seen while sleeping. Then I awoke and all was simply an illusion. Or was it? I will never know until I die, I suppose. But I’ll be damned if I won’t die trying to figure it all out. It’s like magic. And who can resist that?

I don’t dismiss these dreams anymore, but I also don’t take them AS literally, either. I have learned my lesson concerning the danger lying on the flip side of my pillow.

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