Dreams… Our stories, encrypted in our own language, eternal.
They are the raw materials and places where symbols, archetypes, rituals are processed in the waters of the deep unconscious, voiding time and space.
How similar are dreams and mythological narratives? As seers we become involved in our own inner pattern in some way. Outside of our daily mind conversations, dreams should not necessarily be proven or understood. Meaning shows the language that the seer will identify the moment of connection.
Many ancient cultures and civilizations have dealt with dream language with different dimensions outside of today’s perspective.
Toltec scholars handle dreams as both a tool of prophecy and a journey into one’s own inner change. Keeping a dream diary is the only way to decipher a person’s own visionary language.
In Sufi literature, the realm of dreams is defined as the realm of “misal”, which is between the realm of spirits and the realm of matter, where the originals of all beings exist before their appearance and material forms. It is seen as a guide to expand consciousness.
Aborigines speak of that unique time, ‘dream time’, when every force in creation is intertwined. They believe that all creation is inside an egg, everything will be together until the day that whole creation would be scattered. That’s why dreams are a message from the primal and the source.
The dreamer works like a messenger.
Being an observer and a messenger of our own dreams is one of the oldest ways of knowing the self.
When the judgements of the word is set on fire, at the end of the words;
Is where the road begins.
He said “The moment just before a dream is like the face of death.”
*made out of silence
Last night, a dream that declared its uniqueness came into my vision.
I was stuck in this exemplary world.
With seven people.
There were two familiar faces with me. Manas and Gül.
Those with whom I shared the dream could no longer hold on to the patience to cross this realm. We were all searching for that person who was the only answer to getting out the way we came through the door.
“Silentium incarnatum…*
We were repeating these words like a refrain that we spoke by heart.
“Silentium incarnatum”
The question of who or what he meant had already left our insane minds. We used to remember, forget and dream.
The one who remained awake was trying to bring the other to himself. We were on a rotating watch. Everything we heard and saw was constantly taking shape. Many realities were pulling us in.
So which one was it? What was the truth?
We were exhauseted, then suddenly 7 people appeared from afar that we we not sure if they were also a part of the game. Their steps were dignified, their clothes were of shiny fabric. Their faces wore a hidden smile.
With a strange sincerity, we all seemed to get sober at once. They bow their heads towards us;
“Greetings, Travelers. Come! What you seek is behind us”
We walked steplessly towards them. When we arrived, a floating window emerged in the corner of the realm.
They invited us with their hands, as if signaling us to look. Without questioning, we moved towards the window curiously.
There was darkness inside.
A black cover.
We couldn’t see anything.
“Is this a game too?”
One of the men raised his head.
“You need to try to know”
It was obviously not meant to look inside.
We had to step up. I found the courage to take the first step on a whim.
The only light inside was coming from a 9-step staircase climbing up.
There was a woman at the top of the marble stairs whose head was covered with a long veil, whose face we could not clearly see. He called out to the men who brought us.
“Ambassadors. Awaken the light.”
All candles were lit. It was as if the sky had descended into the room. The fire was dancing in different directions above the candle. It was as if the flames had life and were chatting with each other. With admiring eyes, we forgot our reason for being there, and we were again immersed in the watching. Candle flames drew on all the mystery of our place.
The woman called the ambassadors with a deep voice.
“Wake the sevens up too.”
The ambassadors who brought us here gracefully leaded us.
“Here you go. This is the person you are looking for.”
For a moment, we seemed to gather our energy. But Gül’s eyes were still fixed on the light playing in the room. Suddenly Manas rushed forward. He put his hand on his chest and bowed first.
“Greetings… We have come from long roads and far lands. We were looking for you, for we have been told that you have the key. Please. Tell us about this game.
Where are we? Whose dream are we in?”
The silk cover on his veiled head fell off. His face had unforgettable features. An angular face. His fierce night-colored eyes were burning us. Her red hair was resembling clouds at sunset. His eyes were touching us as if they had long, thin fingers.
“This realm is made of the word with which the mirror is glazed.
You don’t speak here, what has to be spoken, speaks itself.”
Manas collapsed to the ground in an instant.
“How do we wake up from this dream? Please!”
“This realm; It shows not what is, but what is being signified.
See what’s pointed!
The wind will carry the rest by blowing into your consciousness. Dreams will show the snake approaches to the apple, and what lies behind all.
Just look and see!”
He took a step down on to the one below.
In ancient Egyptian civilizations, the place of dreams was so precious that it was believed that the person who could no longer remember his dreams or walk under the sun was cut off from his soul. For 7 nights, he would be put to sleep under the stars, and he would be put to sleep under the stars. Every morning the priest would come to that person and take note of what he remembered from his dreams. After the comments, he would write a nutritional diet suitable for him.
According to shamanic culture, we travel between different dream bodies and the frequencies that make up the world. The piece that remains in our memory when we return is the message of comprehension that sticks to our soul. We brought with us a piece of the universe and the message of the door we crossed.
There is a common view that unites each;
‘Dream and truth go hand in hand.’
The unfamiliar with his dreams seems unlikely to grasp the world he lives in and interprets.
fanifesto
The night lifts people up, I know
Mortal…
you are breaking
You have fallen
when all crumbled, I became the child inside you.
Lift my head off the pillow
I’ve been the flesh covered with words
You knew!
Silence is older than words
Ancient than the mountains…
Your wandering eye hit the roads
To far far away lands…
Which you always knew close to yourself.
If you have been a drop
At that exact moment!
Into the charm of the night,
Your seal would be broken with my lips.
With the ash-skinned horses of your desert
My word would wake the green-eyed morning breeze up.
Then the dream appeared
The sound of water…
You asked!
Where is the truth?
Only if you come out of the shadow of the corridor;
From the blue you see,
with a superficial devotion
If you rise from the iron curtain into the deep
Possible..!
Now half naked across the sand, You!
a grace.
Alive and sharp like a sword…
How many dragons did you fight in the house of darkness?
Then with a glance…
And with a breathless sentence you called to the sky;
-Maybe it was me,
It’s me, myself pushing me
and wherever I fell, I was me again…
You woke up!
Your minor nobility.
You heard the sound.
-The ones, who are afraid of what they have accepted before!
I’ll take the whole night,
Part of the evening,
If you walk, surely,
I will accompany.
This image; nature and human,
It’s a seal in my heart,
Still afraid to understand.
This is the dream.
Hear…
So you stayed silent,
Then you got it.
You said “this is a dream”
You stopped.
Time will come and people will understand.
Things in dreams are nor a start
neither the last!
If you annihilate you.
Secret starts maybe with your name.
Do you hear me
Now hold on to your existence and get out of that well…
Fertility of the night,
Join its endless lips
Let’s meet in dreams…
Gözde Baş
Translation from Turkish Original: İlkin Taşdelen