*the content on this site is constantly altered or adjusted to better reflect my experience*

A series of dreams I had throughout the years

The Ping Test

About two nights ago, I was feeling more haunted than usual. It occurred to me to look up on google/youtube to see if I can find how genuine gold sounds like. Sounds like a weird thing to want to know, but there was this dream I had after I met A....

Shortly after we met, I had this dream where I was in yet another dilapidated, post-apocalyptic looking building. I found it odd this dream had that post-apocalyptic noir vibe to it, because around this time in my life - post spiritual experience - my dreams were set in environments filled with light, compared to the usual aesthetic of my pre-spiritual-experience dreams/nightmares. The building was made of large stone blocks, and I was left with the impression it burnt at some point in its past. It was dark, cold, and damp inside. The interior was medieval looking, and it seemed, and felt like a maze, with most rooms leading to many other rooms.

I didn't know why I was there, but I was going from room to room. At one point I wondered if I got lost, but I kept on going. I started to feel as if I was looking for something, as if I was supposed to find something inside the building. I didn't know what I was looking for, or even if there was indeed something for me to find in there. I reached a large room. Somewhere to my right, there was a large rectangular, and slightly elevated niche. Inside that niche stood two beautifully carved, black wooden rods. The rods were mounted on a wall in an 'X', and at the end pointing upwards had what seemed like a solid gold flame.

I took one of the rods having the inner knowing it belongs to me. I, then just stood there holding the rod as if I was waiting for something. I remember I was on the cusp of getting bored, and annoyed with waiting, when A. showed up, and took the other rod. We just looked at each other briefly, and then proceeded to find our way out of the building. We were walking side by side holding onto our rod, gold flame pointing down. The golden flames were touching each other, and their contact was making a deafening, screeching sound. Replaying that ringing, high pitched metallic sound in my memory I feel my teeth hurt.

The golden flames at one of the rods' end looked like genuine solid gold, but hearing that sound...for some reason I associated that sound with the idea that the gold had to be fake.

Some time passed from the moment I had this dream, and I don't remember what gave me the idea to google/youtube the sound of gold this particular night. I found there is something called the ping test for metals, which helps you identify metals based on the sound they make. In my mind, I was sure I was going to find gold makes this low pitched sound, rather than the high pitched, ringing sound I heard in my dream. I was wrong because the sound gold makes is the same exact sound I heard in my dream.

Truth be told, if I was to find gold makes the low sound I imagined gold to make, it wouldn't have been the unequivocal proof we are nothing to each other, but knowing that for some reason I heard the sound of real gold in that dream without knowing how gold sounds like. This means the flames were real gold, and if they were real gold....it feels like one more thing pointing in the same direction of us having the same soul.

Your Folder Has My Name On It

I've always been a heavy dreamer. Ever since I can remember I had some truly wacky dreams. And by wacky I mean nightmarish many times, or just surreal wacky the rest of the times. I can actually count the number of times I had beautiful, and peaceful dreams - I have trouble remembering any right now.

The wacky surreal type dreams feature realistic type interactions, usually with people that are already in my life at the time of dreaming. These dreams seem to hold the existing emotional energy between me, and the person from my dream, and sometimes they are filled with all sorts of symbols.

After me and A. met, I had numerous dreams of him. The following is one of them.

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We were in whatever was that lounge room of his. The room had a different interior than the interior it had the night we met; a different interior with the same vibe. On the wall opposite the window there was a double bed, with tan coloured sheets. It felt as if we were in a relationship. We were lying naked in bed, next to each other. We started making love.

We were in an embrace, with him on top of me. All of a sudden he held me still making me feel I couldn't escape. He looked into my eyes, and I looked into his. As I was looking into his eyes, I saw them turning red. He acted as if he wanted me to see his eyes turning red. I instantly became terrified, and felt I had no escape. It seemed that in that moment he showed me his true colors. It seemed it was turning out he really was that entity I had hoped he wasn't. Whatever love I ever perceived coming from him, seemed like a lie meant to lure me in. I didn't know how to react to his eyes turning red, so I said nothing. I felt paralyzed, and I let him continue thrusting, but it stopped feeling like we were making love the moment his eyes turned red. It stopped feeling we were making love the moment I came to fear him. When the 'love making' ended, he didn't acknowledge anything that just happened. I didn't know who he was anymore, and I was scared. His failure to acknowledge what happened scared me even more, and I found myself thinking I should free myself from him. I acted as if nothing happened, just like he did. I didn't want to confront him, and possibly jeopardize my potential escape. It was only potential escape, because in that moment, I thought that maybe there was a reasonable explanation for it all, or maybe I just imagined it.

We both made our way to the bathroom in complete silence. It felt we were both pretending nothing out of the ordinary happened. For a moment, I thought I was just imagining he was unperturbed, but he was too silent; silent enough for it all to feel bizarre. Something happened, but he was pretending it didn't happen. That had me feeling a lot of fear. I feared that if I was confront him, he would just gaslight me. Then, I found myself hoping that the oddity of his silence meant he was just working up the courage to tell me something weird happened to him when we were making love. I found myself hoping he was going to address what just happened.

I waited to see if he was going to say anything. A day, or maybe several passed with both of us pretending everything was normal.

One day, when he wasn't home, I decided to go to a place I knew had folders with files on everyone, on everything a person is, and isn't; files containing the essence of their being, and all alterations of the soul, that society made happen. It was a big office building of sorts. In those offices there were cabinets filled with such folders. This was where I was going to find everything there was to know about him, about his being. 

I entered a dark office, opened a cabinet, and looked for the folder that had his name on it. When I found it, I double-checked to make sure it was his folder. It had his name written on it, A.M. I took it, held it close to my chest, and got out of there before anyone could see me.

It was raining outside, and I was making my way through a busy market. I was impatient thinking of the contents of that folder. I started contemplating ringing my ex-boyfriend hoping for advice. I was playing a conversation with him in my mind, going through possible scenarios. As I was thinking about sharing the contents of A.'s folder with my ex, I realised the folder I was holding had my name on it. I was sure the folder I took out of that cabinet had A.'s name on it, but somehow the name had changed from A.M. to T.C. How did that happen? I was now revisiting every step I took when I entered that office. I was going over every little thing in my memory, revisiting every single detail of how I went searching through the cabinets looking for his folder, how upon finding it, I double and triple checked it had his name on it. How could now, all of a sudden that folder have my name on it?

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What am I to make of this dream? What do you want me to make of it? What should I make of it?

All there is to see in your folder is the same as all there is to see in my folder? All there is to know about you, is all there is to know about myself? 

Lobster Symbolism - Soulmates

I write rarely. This isn't because I have nothing to say, but because I find it very difficult to get all of this out of me.

A dream pops up. One I had recently.

It was night time - as usual. I was crossing a stone bridge. I was with S.. I think we were holding hands. I was apologizing to her. I felt guilty for her experience that night. I felt guilty, because I lived through it all before. I lived through exactly that, long before I even met her. This time around though, I never lost her from my sight. Apologizing to her felt right, and wrong at the same time. I did my best in that circumstance, but I still feared my best was not enough.

In the next sequence of my dream, I was on a busy street. It was a beautiful, but rather stereotypical urban landscape. It seemed to be morning now. Around this time in my life, this was one of the few dreams set in a light filled environment. The street I was on was crowded with all sorts of shops, and restaurants. I ended up in what looked like a tiny East Asian restaurant. I felt the restaurant was one of those hidden gems. I went to the counter wanting to order something to eat. Behind the counter was a man who seemed to wear an apron - the owner maybe. He was busy with a cupboard somewhere above, opposite the counter. All of a sudden, a pile of lobsters fell out of the cupboard that was above the counter.

I woke up. 

Your House is My House

You were oblivious, weren't you? As far as my soul and consciousness were concerned, you had to be in on it all. At least to some degree. My brain couldn't compute you were seeing me for the first time in your life.

How could I compute such a thing, when you pretty much altered the trajectory of my life, before I even met you? How wild is that? I won't forget that it was because of you that I came to discover aspects of my sexuality. It was because of the man from this dream I had as a teenager. Who would have dared to imagine I was going to meet you, and experience those exact circumstances? I remember this feeling I had, after I had that dream. I felt you were the man I never knew I wanted. Everything you seemed to be was such a perfect fit for every desire I ever had. So yeah, I may have acted too close for comfort, because I couldn't compute.

I remember this dream I had some time after we met. I felt and knew I was in your house. It was a very big house. Beautiful, although it seemed a little arid now that I think of it. Somehow I had this inner knowing that your house is my house. I also knew you knew, your house is my house. For a little while, I thought I was delusional that you knew your house was my house; a man who was wandering around, and seemed to be a friend of yours confirmed you knew I was there, that I was free to roam there, and that you agreed your house is my house.

I had this vague feeling you didn't like it that I was in your house, but there was nothing you could do about it either.

You were in a different part of the house, and I started roaming around. Maybe I went looking for you, or maybe I was just walking around the house.

I found you in a large room, like a classroom of sorts with several massage tables facing a blackboard. I think you were receiving a massage. I was writing on the blackboard. It felt like I was teaching something, but I didn't really care if anyone was learning, or even listening for that matter. I was just sharing the material I had.

I remember you feeling angry. You didn't like it that I was there. It felt like 'fine, if I had to be in your house, couldn't I, at the very least, not be in the same room as you?'. The audacity. You didn't throw me out, but chose to leave the room. You couldn't throw me out. That's was the thing. You couldn't throw me out, because your house is my house.

I Have Your Phone

This is a dream I had about three or four nights ago now. For some reason it feels significant.

The environment in the first sequence of my dream is a little blurry. It seems to be a busy market. Colourful and busy. That much I can tell. There is also this sensation I have, of maybe being on a rooftop, or something related to a rooftop. I can't quite put my finger on it. I was with A. We kissed, and there seemed to be a closeness between us. I am mentioning this to give some context regarding our connection and relationship in my dream.

In the next sequence I was at a stand in the market. I was alone, and I wanted to call A.. When I reached for my phone, I realised his phone was in my pocket as well. It was a very strange looking Iphone, judging by the icons. It was quite narrow, and had rather thick black bezels.

The dream ended with me holding both my and his phone in my hands.