When is a dream not a dream? When it’s so powerful that it seems real, or perhaps so bizarre that it seems beyond imagination?

This one was both, and I thought that I would take the step of recording it here, actually without knowing quite why. I don’t know that it will ever happen this way. Or maybe, somewhere else in space and time, perhaps it is happening, or has happened.

In the dream, I was with Anne in a sort of bookshop-restaurant where we were looking at books and waiting for lunch. Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. I went out and saw a number of enormous machines in the sky. They were not ordinary UFOs, but different shapes and sizes. I glimpsed a few grays, but for the most part, they were manned by people, both men and women in various sorts of uniforms and all with weapons.

Although they seemed quite cheerful–or perhaps because they were so cheerful–I got the impression that they were here to kill people, and I became frightened. When I turned to go back and get Anne and try to escape, a man taller than me confronted me. He had a gun, which he shot me with. It didn’t hurt me, but left a sort of film on my clothes, like a light dusting of spray paint.

I said, “You can’t kill people. People’s lives are sacred.” He replied, “lives are not sacred unless people make them sacred. The future is sacred.” Then he said, “We are here to make room for the future.”

I got back to Anne and we left the restaurant and climbed out of the small town it was in, passing across a great mountain full of ice and storms. Behind us and far below, terrible things were befalling the city we had been in, while a small number of people came out and started up the mountain.

Once we crossed the mountain, there appeared a verdant valley below. In it were quite a few people. A man told us that the ones who had come were going to “turn under” the whole planet once again, and we were “encoded” with a new way of being, that would enable our progeny to build a new world along better lines, with a clearer understanding and a more compassionate heart.

He said that this had happened before, and each time mankind had gotten a little farther in terms of development of a truly good society.

I said that this was wrong, that so many people were being deprived of their lives. He said, sadly, “Their lives aren’t being taken. By the way they lived, they gave them away.”

“How did they live? What was wrong?” I asked.

Anne’s hand came into mine. She whispered to me, “It’s refusal of the soul.”

There the dream ended.

It seems to develop the theme of the Omega Point, which has been much on my mind these past couple of years. I sense that we’re coming toward a time when nature, and perhaps higher presences, too, are going to make us take stock of ourselves. How have we lived? Have we offered good to the world? Been compassionate and active rather than passive? When asked to judge ourselves, how honest have we been?

NOTE: This Journal entry, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.

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