My times upon those plains are becoming more clear, more vivid, more memorable. More real.

These past few nights have not been the same. As I sail these seas of slumber, the journeys have become breatheable. As in I’m breathing while I’m there. It’s as if I can taste the air, as if I can feel the warmth of the fires around me, as if I can embrace all the grace that caress my soul. And what’s more is that once I sail back home, back down to these worlds, I can clearly remember each and every experience. These dreams have become real.

It was different. The walls, the furniture, the atmosphere.

The other night, I was taken somewhere. A wonderous place. I had the honour to be with someone special from my past. Someone dear. And I met her at her palace. But as she took my hand and we strolled into her home, this place was not the palace I remembered. It was different. The walls, the furniture, the atmosphere. It wasn’t the grand palace I knew here in these worlds.

The place was smaller, more humble, more old. The air even smelt different. Cosy. Nurturing. Like a home built on care. And with this dear of mine wrapped around my arm, there was surely the warmth of her love.

We walked past a particular shrine. I recognized it instantly. I stopped my dear in that moment. I told her I would first pay my respects to the old general. With grace, she let me go to pay my homage. She knew how much I honoured the old man. And she always loved that I still saluted him, even to this day.

Along the way I found her mother at rest upon a bench. Of course, I gave her my greetings. And she too gave me her welcomes in that way the lady always did. I knew I was with the same spirits that I dealt with down here in these worlds from long ago. My soul recognized them all. Everything felt so real, and yet it was a completely different reality.

I know it was different because what I felt afterwards did not accord to life in our physical worlds. After the few words with her mother, my dear then towed me toward where we would be more comfortable. But before we walked off, we took a short moment for ourselves. We held one another, dearly in each others arms. We embraced, and shared those gestures of love. I felt her soul. And she felt mine. As one.

That was when I woke. A shame. In my wake, I longed madly to rewind time back, even for just a mere second. Because my entirety knew everything I felt was real, even if it never existed in this reality.

Each of those memories is still clear and vivid at this very moment. I remember every single detail. Just like that last dream I had of you, my darling. Why am I seeing these things so clearly?

The actual celebration only felt ‘closer to reality’.

The night before, again, another vivid memory. This time I met one of the brothers. We were celebrating festivities with the brotherhood. But then I woke up.

Waking up this time was strange, because I was then with this same brother again. And I told him of how I dreamt of us and the brotherhood celebrating and carousing. I explained to him each and every detail of the dream, who was there, where we all were, what we ate and drank, the music we enjoyed, even what time it was on that night. He laughed at me, telling me I was too excited for the night ahead. And so later that night we celebrated. He, I, and the brotherhood.

This time we celebrated in a setting that fitted this physical plain. Most of the details of our celebrations were similar to that of the dream I described to him, only closer to reality. That was the strange part. The actual celebration only felt ‘closer to reality’. Because the next moment, I awoke.

I remember every detail of that dream too. Clear and vivid. Too clear. Too vivid. Something is happening to me.

I accept what it is. But still. Strange.

My imaginings during the day are starting to feel more real as well. As if just the mere thought of somebody became communication. Unexplainable. But communication nonetheless.

Sometimes when I think about asking my secretary something, she reaches out to me in that instant. As if she heard my thoughts. These phenomena are most obvious with her. Maybe it’s the honesty and trust that my secretary and I share. The sweet girl. I worry about her. She has done so much for me. I must stay sure that she is well. But then again, I somehow know when to check up on her. Strange. I accept what it is. But still. Strange. But, no. This is nowhere as strange as my recent dreams.

I accept what happens, and it doesn’t have to make sense.

It’s quite frightening. My mind and heart try to reason each memory. But what good is reason when my soul knows what it has seen, and knows what it has felt. And as with every unexplainable experience, my entirety eventually accepts that what Life brings is just a reality I don’t yet need to understand. I accept what happens, and it doesn’t have to make sense.

The unexplainable. There is a reason that word exists. I’m sure others come across such. And with what little our beings have to make sense of it all, we either accept that there are infact mere unknowns, or we throw such thoughts into the basket of falsities. Supernaturalism. Mysticism. Fantasy? Hah! You all know that fantasy is my favourite word. And with that, I’ll happily enjoy that fact that I’ve experienced pure fantasy. Dreams or not.

I don’t know what is happening to me. Is it because I’ve been venturing back to those outer realms? I knew I should have been careful about that. And now here I am, torn between what is real and what feels real.

I’ll have to see how things progress. Let’s hope my madness sets me free, at the least.

Love from yours truly

-Daniel Roy