Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid, it ended up being important to you even when you woke up?

I once had a dream that I’d died.  I don’t know how I knew that I was dead, but I did.  I ended up in this strange, immaterial kind of place.  Well, it wasn’t really a place.  You know how in most places, you orient yourself?  You have a floor, a ceiling or a sky, and stuff on either side of you.  Well, this place wasn’t like that.  It wasn’t a “place.”

It was all color.  There was no air.  There was no lack of air.  Nothing suffocating, no emptiness.  I was just floating around in this mass of color — not bright or dark, adjusted perfectly.  It was a color I don’t think I’d ever seen anywhere else, so it’s hard to describe.  It was somewhere between grey, white, and silver.  There was something shimmering about it, something shifting and moving.  It was very translucent, but there was nothing beyond it.  This wasn’t particularly intimidating.  The thing about nothing is that it’s easy not to notice.

Maybe that sounds strange.  It’s a hard dream to describe.

I could feel a presence around me — not physically, I mean, I just knew they were there.  ‘They’ were all around me.  Many energies.  They were all comfortably settled together, individual and collective.  

After a while, I could see them present an image before me.  I knew then that they were dead like me, and they were showing me how they’d looked in life.  ‘They’ were all gathered around me, holding hands.  I don’t know how many of them there were.  Not an infinite number, or anything.  The images were only of people, and they were smiling, happy.  Peaceful together.  I remember a little old Black man holding the hand of a girl with blonde curls.

Then this big warm presence came up behind me and wrapped itself around me.  It seemed kind of apologetic.  It told me everything was going to be okay — or, well, I felt that way when it held me.  And that’s when I woke up.  I was crying.

I was only a kid when I dreamed that.  I’ve never dreamed it again.  But I’ve never doubted a ‘divine’ presence around us in the universe, either.  I’ve filled in the blanks for myself — that was the afterlife, that was God, and not everyone was there because some of them had been reincarnated — that’s what I believe.  But the truth is I don’t really know what it was.  All that remains is the memory of the dream and the feeling that it was important, somehow.

I’m not sure why this all came out now.  It just occurred to me that I’d answered a set of ten questions, impulsively, on this blog earlier today, asking me about things that were important to me.  And I realized that without meaning to, I’d recounted pieces of that dream in my answers.

So my question stands.  Have you ever dreamed something so important to you that it became important to your waking reality?


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