Storytime: I Dreamed a Dream...

Channeled writing from my soul to you.

​I once dreamed a dream of a world where universal law prevailed. Where heroism was rewarded. Where sacrifice was returned ten fold every time. Where honor was the natural code. Where kindness was the default, and what was normal was that all were respected.

Then I fell into a deeper dream. And I found myself in a desert. Where survival of the nastiest was the way of the world. Where kindness was weakness. Where heroism was punished. And sacrifice beget more sacrifice. Where lies were the natural code, and no one was ever respected.

I walked this desert for so long and for so many iterations of the dream, that I forgot what water tasted like. I forgot what rain felt like. What green looked like. What love felt like. Such that when I found myself at an oasis in this desert, I rejected it as a falsehood. Such was the depth of the dream and the conviction of the desert.

Desert dreams for so many thousands of years. So much time in such an unforgiving place. You get used to it. You think this level of suffering is how it's supposed to be always. It's not a case of suffering and overcoming it for growth. It's just endless suffering in a barren wasteland that seems to have no beginning or end. It only seems like there's not beginning or end, because your walk in the desert is one massive spiral. Going ever deeper into it.

Until one day, I dreamed I found the center of the desert. In the center there was a stair of many steps spiraling tightly into the sky. I climbed, but the spirals were so tightly compressed, it felt more like I was spinning in place than climbing the stairs. The only indicator there was a stair was the tiredness in my legs from going upward.

There are landings on this stair, and as I passed them, I looked out and saw other dreams. Some were deserts. Some were oases. Some were voids of light or of dark. But they were not for me. So, I climbed.

And I climbed.

And I climbed.

For thousands of years more I climbed those stairs. Past the blast furnaces of war. Past the cold plunges of destitution. Past the blackness of isolation and loneliness. Past the good cheer of friends who eat and drink and make merry, but only just.

Then, suddenly, there were no more stairs. They ended at a platform and looked out into a void. Not of light or of dark, but of sheer potential.

In my dream, I created another dream. This dream was of nothing more than a small room. An antechamber. And in this room I cured that which created the desert dreams. And sought to create yet another dream.

A dream of a world where universal law prevailed. Where heroism was rewarded. Where sacrifice was returned ten fold every time. Where honor was the natural code. Where kindness was the default, and what was normal was that all were respected.

I stepped into this dream, and so came back to the beginning. Only this time, the dream became waking.


I thank you for your time. Adiamas.

​--Kyriel