The Dream

(A lone voice whispers)

As I dreamt on the 18th of January, I pondered vulnerability.

A bearded man in a white robe appeared to me. 

He said, 

“John, I have a message for you. Take my hand, my son.”

As I took his hand, he took me to a huge grey and black mountain.

Gazing at me with deep brown, mesmerising eyes, he continued.

“When you were all born into this realm before me, and all in the highest of heights.

We gave you all a beautiful light to show the world, but when you entered the world and listened to its descriptions of happiness, many of you built these mountains before us.

Mountains of fear, self-doubt, and the manipulation of nether beings, which slowly cover that beautiful light we once gave you to share.

Can you still feel yours, John?”

He asked inquisitively.

I answered.

“A pulse of light that sometimes appears when I feel lucid, 

My Lord.”

I whispered.

“Take my hand, John.

Do not be afraid, for when you allow me back into your life,

I'll open up those small caverns within these mountains of fears and self-doubts to once again lead you to the light.

 You once truly loved.

Your own divine right to serenade your own individuality and intrinsic happiness.”

As the Lord took my hand.

He approached the huge mountain before me, and there before me was a minute crack, and we shrank and entered it. 

A strange yellow doorway appeared and grew to accommodate us.

As we walked, 

The Lord said.

“Through renewed faith.

One can find a way to the light.”

As we walked, the mountain started breaking down before us, and as his hand increased in heat,

I felt light of all my burdens, and when I looked up. 

A bright yellow, shimmering flame lay before me in the distance.

The last words I heard before I awoke were simply this. Which I leave here for you to read.

“Believe in me and be reborn to the light.

 Tell those in need."

(C) Copyright John Duffy

New theme coming soon. Are you ready?

 Some ask what I see.

What happens?

So here is a taster.

When I close my eyes.

It's all pitch black.

Then, moving white, irregular shapes of light appear.

Pulsating, vibrating.

Moving forward and backwards.

Sometimes they look like faces, and sometimes they don't.

Then, like magic.

I'm in another realm.

Fully awake, conscious and aware.

Just like being fully awake in the daylight.

I always look around to see where I am.

The people, the surroundings, and the lay of the land.

Sometimes, the people are kind, curious or rebellious.

Sometimes there are other strange beings.

Sometimes they try to catch me.

A stranger who suddenly appeared in their lands.

Sometimes it feels like I've been there before and the people have been waiting for my return.

It's a strange gift to lucid dream every night.

To visit worlds of unbelievable experiences.

Some say we all visit the lower levels of the astral realms when we all dream.

The inhabitants, good and bad, usually ignore the visitors, for they follow a set sequence.

The dream sequence being projected into their minds.

But can you imagine their curiosity when a new visitor is fully conscious?

Following no set parameters?

One who can exhibit miraculous powers.

Some say all mortal beings, when they die, reside in the lower levels until they ascend.

And when they ascend higher to the next level. They leave the old raw version of themselves behind.

The husk.

It knows their name and all their old memories but isn't the original.

The original version, the soul, has migrated higher.

Are these the majority of those who populate the lower levels of the Astral realms, intermixed with those undergoing refinement of the soul?

Then this illuminated version of me appears disturbing their limbo of existence? 

Some say to avoid mediums, for the husk is usually who they contact. 

The husk will always give you answers. It will seem to be the person, for in essence it is. 

But the original version you knew. 

The version with the soul intact. 

Might have moved to a higher level of existence than the husk. 

And the husk could be jealous; for that's a human trait, it might try to trick the living. 

Could that be why I'm sometimes hunted? 

Hunted by the vengeful shells of the once living? 

I might start a dream diary on my new website I'm going to create over the Christmas holidays. 

Visits to The Great In-Between. 

(The astral realms) 

I think you might enjoy this new exploration I'm going to reveal. 

Some good, some scary. 

So scary, my bible always under my pillow, needs touching. 

For I'm guided to touch it and pray to dissolve the feelings of sudden anxiety and fear. 

I have a feeling something's waiting for me to try to trap me. 

But since they can't because of my gift, they plan and wait. 

Oh, the sometimes torture of having a miraculous gift. 

One aspect of it seems to be expressed throughout my poetic works. 

Even I enjoy listening and being transported into their visual landscapes. 

Until the next time. 

Salute. 

03.29 am

November the second. 2026.