” Man is Soul. He Has a body.
When the soul or spirit withdraws from the physical body, the physical body is not the man, and as long as our materialistic writers who endeavor to interpret dreams fail to grasp the nature of the inner man, the real self, they will be forever groping in the dark.”
~ Yacki Raizizun from The Secret of Dreams
There is a dream I have that seems to have no ending. It repeats often and although I can not recall every aspect of it, I often remember pieces of sights, smells, and feelings. I can hear the dream, listening to it as if someone is narrating it to me from a AM radio channel.
Between two worlds I reside, existing on the thin boundary line. Between two worlds I exist, this is my curse, my gift, my purpose in life. As I flow between the two worlds of waking and dreaming, they tend to create a parallel universe blending the images together placing them side by side. I am with sight, I am alive – but not like the others, yet very much like everyone else. Clarity comes within my dreams through the voice that speaks and each morning I awake, I have awoken.
I walk a fine line between the boundaries of what some are unable to wrap their minds around. But I see my mind warping, stretching, hurting, and I cry for the pieces of thoughts that many others drop and leave behind. They pile up for me like an ant hill which I become too afraid to touch. If I get to close will their thoughts attach to me, am I burden with they are unable to restore? Through my childhood and teenage years I watch myself grow and realize I was the voice informing others to be careful for one day they may not wake up out of the darkness and return into the light. The snapshots of my dreaming existence appears to me at times within the dream as memories that flash back into my life during random moments; whether from a spoken word, a sense of smell whisking by me, food I am tasting, a sound that twirls through my ears, or a image that invokes a vision within my third eye, or sixth sense. It stops me for a moment, but then I find myself dropping everything and running towards a deep velvet curtain. Turning around will only pull me back to a spot where I will stagnate – waiting for someone somewhere to catch me up and if they caught up to me I would then become part of their web and the silky strings would hold me down covering my mouth; with no voice ever to speak again I could no longer speak in dreams. People would pass by staring asking me questions, wanting answers, and no voice would emerge. My thoughts would scream out hoping telepathy would be a way to communicate, however, they look at me as if they hear nothing, blocked they move on. Darkness falls and I see nothing until a light sparkles in the distance. I wake up.
I imagine at some point as the dream continues on over days and nights, years and centuries, it will eventually have an ending in which will tie together all my dreams within this dream realm of my existence. This is a dream that I feel, within the core of my soul – within its body, mind & spirit – will continue for many worlds to come. I am writing down this dream to make sense of it all…for if there is an abundant truth to it, then it should be told if not to anyone then only to myself. For this dream is a puzzle, with random pieces scattered across a lifetime, that when they fit together, they form an understanding….. ….of our descent from above, to below here on earth, to above again.
Some may say my residing behind the curtain is a myth I created for myself but if they could imagine a world beyond the physical they may realize that it is their life that they manifested from a myth they once read about in a book. What feeds me is what does exist behind the veil, the spiral stairs that lead me up to realms invisible to the waking eye. All of this in order to emerge again with one breath.