The Heaven Matrix Dream

I’ve had a very lucid dream which I’d like to catalog here.

My memory being scattered and my mind being on constant obsessive-compulsive overload—I wanna put this somewhere so it doesn’t become another thing forgotten and left to wash away with the tides of life.

Far be it from me to be overly fanciful in any sense… but with all this talk in the world about awakening lately, and with various different influential voices I listen to saying the same things about revival, dreams, and interference from demons worldwide… it’s just a strange time to have the type of dream I did last night. I haven’t had a lucid dream, sober or not, in a good while now. This is the first one in a long time. It’s also worth noting that ‘prophetic’ dreams are a thing that runs in my family from my mom’s side. She’d have dreams about car accidents before they happened. I had nightmares about similar things; once when I was a kid, I dreamed that my father and his cousin came and took me away from my mother in a hospital somewhere, and he arrived at her house and did that very thing in real life the next day. I also dreamed of him abandoning me in a tornado when I was very small—distinctly remembering the look of apathy on his face before he walked away—and many real-life circumstances fitting that theme happened to unfold over the course of the next ten to fifteen years, always with that look on his face. Every time I have a dream this lucid, there is always some level of validity to it, though it doesn’t usually become clear until later, after I’ve lived out the real-life events that the dreams paralleled. Some people believe these phenomena are spiritual while others believe they’re psychological—but, like many of the debates of science VS religion, I cannot fathom why it has to be one or the other. I generally believe that it could be—and likely is—both.

Now, I can’t remember certain parts in between the big events of this dream, but here goes.

I dreamed of an institution, like a hospital, with a large commune all around it, wide open fields, playgrounds, barracks, and more. Everything was gorgeous, most everything being outside; the center of it all seemed to be the grounds, playground areas and massive fields, leaving the institution to be sort of vague and rarely noticed, a piece of the background, like it was shrouded by a perception filter. But the rest—it was all lush with color, vibrant and vivid in a way dreams rarely are.

I remember being there, lots of folks around in groups and far-spread, some kids, some adults, all people I knew in some way or another. I also remember lying down and cuddling with someone (I believe the Irishman, a close friend in real life) on an outdoor bed for a while—the way I used to cuddle with a boyfriend, which was so long ago, I completely forgot what it felt like until now. I’d lay on his collar, arm draped around him, nuzzled into him where I felt the safest I’d ever been. I loved finally having that feeling again after seven years. The most serene thing ever.

I’d walk around, going places to do things, don’t remember where or what… but I’d pass people occasionally, and before long, I looked up, and I noticed something was wrong in the sky.

In the center of this blast of detailed and extravagant colors amid the scenery and the sky, the sun shone down—but all around it, on the cusps of the entire scene, were darkened clouds, extremely dark, encircling around the vibrant area as if something had us enclosed.

It looked as if a storm was approaching from every possible direction.

I remembered gathering someone’s attention and gesturing up at the clouds, pointing it out to him (recalling what this man looked like, I believe it was Miles Williams, Miles Williams being one of the main characters of my book, Nightingale, who was solely responsible for fighting off extra-dimensional demons from a place called the Nightingale Resort, and he was the only fictional person in the dream).

Miles and I looked up, just in time to see more darkness moving across the middle of the sky, where the serenity and beauty was still visible. But this darkness was different from the clouds; it scattered and shifted rapidly, like a million tiny insects or animals flying about in a swarm. It whizzed over to the left, then back the other way, circling around overhead.

I can’t emphasize enough how beautiful and peaceful the place was, and how I truly felt all of that, deep to my very core. I can’t emphasize enough how lost to blissful contentment I felt lying down and embracing someone I loved again for the first time in what felt like decades.

But as these grave and unsettling themes became more noticeable, the vibe of the place became terribly conflicted—bad feelings waging war with good, serenity fracturing and wavering in the wake of something far darker that fought to take its place. It was as if a worldly façade was crackling apart all around us.

Now, all notions of happiness have been abandoned—and much like I do in real life, I mentally obsessed about discovering what was really going on.

I look down from the sky, a few people standing nearby us now—and I find that my mamaw is standing there, just to my right, smiling at me with her care-worn face, a face I haven’t seen in years now. Mamaw died under the covid protocols in the hospital, and she was somewhat broken in real life, the ‘head’ of my father’s side of the family, the dysfunctional and dramatic side, the people who can’t stay on the right side of the law, who always had frantic drama going on, and who are always fighting with some form of addiction or another. I remember her being very set in her ways about some things, able to snicker sometimes, but ultimately, she was never happy deep down. Her marriage wasn’t happy, and her family certainly wasn’t. She was a Christian woman—though many people thought of her more as a virtue-signaler than a real Christian—and she was involved in a lot of drama in our family back in the day. She was a stressed type of person all the time, and sometimes, I suspected her sanity might not be very intact—but here, in this bizarre little world, she smiled in a way I’d never seen of her before. It was a warm, genuine, and motherly sort of smile. Not forced, not dry, not at the end of a joke or a hearty conversation—just a smooth, contented smile like she’d never had in real life. Her expression was soft and serene, and she looked, for the first time I’d ever seen, entirely at peace.

She started talking when I met her eyes, but I don’t remember a single word she said. All I remember is thinking Wow, she’s talking about God the way my mom does now. It sounds way more genuine than it ever used to from her…

Then, she took my hand.

I can’t remember anything clearly after that, except bits and pieces wherein the world seemed to be getting more violent; real storms were moving in, whipping winds and consuming darkness all around, the clouds enshrouding the clear spot in the sky, blocking out the sun and colors, and everything fell dark, black, and gray.

The dream seemed to unfold in the perspective of my writing style from then on, third person omniscient, wherein you’re able to know, see, and observe all things in the world, regardless of if you’re there, or if you even exist.

I remember seeing the inside of the institution, not colorful, not happy, not full with life. It was like a hospital, but darker and grayer, and considerably more silent. I didn’t see the bodies, but I knew the people were in there somewhere—all of us, who’d been living in the happy world. But during the brief time when the inside of the institution became visible to me, the happy world was silent, the inside was silent—and everything, everywhere, was dark and silent. We were fading. Everything was fading. I’m not really sure how, or what that even means—but that’s just how it felt, as if everything was coming apart before flickering out like a dying flame.

I only saw one actual person inside the facility.

Owen Shroyer from Infowars walked through the facility with a stoic visage. He stopped at the main power line in a large darkened room, hunched down over it, and unplugged a yellow cord from a thick black cable, cutting off all power to the facility—and then I woke up.

I spent all morning reeling over that dream, reaching and trying to grasp all the parts in between—which I still can’t remember—but every detail of it felt important, and very strangely real, like lucid dreams tend to feel.

This day came with a lot of distractions—but my mother was listening to a New York pastor on youtube while we ate dinner, and he started saying a lot of the same things about awakening, revival, and the extra-dimensional that Alex Jones was saying yesterday when I listened to him. That’s what brought the dream back to my mind, and I came to my laptop to type it out.

While the pastor spoke on his livestream, his chatroom exploded with people confirming a lot of the things he was saying—mainly about feeling unusually tired lately, feeling waves of discouragement, and having strange dreams. But, most notably of all, the man said that the enemy is preparing for a “Dark Winter,” wherein a dark, spiritual cloud will be cast over all believers, hoping to block them from the divine.

It’s important to note that I heard this from this pastor after I had the dream, not before.

But, Alex Jones did say something similar yesterday. It was only one single part of a longwinded speech, something I barely even paid mind to, although I’m mulling over it more now, since it’s another thing that seems connected to the dream. He has been quick and hard-hitting with exposing government cover-ups and terrible conspiracies for decades—but nowadays, he’s far more spiritual than he ever used to be, and now, he speaks of the enemy in the way a pastor would, not just in the way a conspiracy man would. The global elites, and the demonic forces, are one and the same. He speaks about them as such—and he stated, paraphrasing, “That’s the one thing they can’t let you know. They can’t let you know you’re connected to the divine. Look at Tucker Carlson—when did he get fired? Right after he said that God is real. He said that, and then they said—you’re fired!”

The pastor also said that temptation, doubt, and a longing for giving up will be hitting all of us hard now.

Granted, that could be true all the time—but if an era of darkness really is trying to encroach, and if this spiritual battle of good and evil is real, then I imagine there would be waves of us feeling it worse and harder, if there really is a side of the universe that wants nothing good for us.

And I have to admit—I had the opportunity to get a hold of oxycodone a couple of days ago. I’m sober now. I swore I’d never get hooked on anything like that again—but yeah, temptation hit me like a fist, for sure. And the pastor specifically mentioned pills, too.

The pastor also said “You’ll feel like giving up on having a boyfriend or striving toward your goals any longer.”

The past few days, after these weeks of deeply re-planning my future, I have been feeling much the same. Re-planning my future—rather than living day to day while believing I don’t have one—has forced me to consider all those things, like, “What if I don’t find someone? How will the future go if it’s just me alone?” Oh well, I can do it alone, whatever… don’t care…

And—this pastor, Alex Jones, and a few other influencers have all said this—that they have visions, and they are shown and told what to relay to the rest of the world about the spiritual battle between evil and good.

It’s difficult to hear such a thing without immediately thinking it’s crazy—but at the same time, I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and one of the perks of OCD is this; it’s rather easy for me to make connections whether I’m trying to or not.

The dream, the matching words of vastly different people who are unconnected to each other, and how it all correlates to my and other people’s real-life events—it is all, undeniably, tying together in some way.

You can argue that humans are hardwired to look for patterns, even when none are there—but I would challenge that statement with this; what if you’re obsessive, thorough, and completely certain of your connections after you’ve gone over them a million times? What if you’ve made sure that the patterns actually are there? Should we dismiss them simply because of the instances wherein the patterns turned out not to be?

You can argue that human beings have been worshipping spiritual beings since the dawn of time, and it’s the behavior of the ignorant—but I would challenge that statement with this; why are human beings, of all cultures, creeds, races, and time periods, all hardwired to worship in such a way? Why did it always, historically and culturally, boil back down to worship some way or another? Why would we be designed in such a way if it was incorrect? If it was incorrect, then evolution would have weeded it out of us by now, at least to some degree, would it not? And—how can you state that it’s ignorant to believe in anything spiritual when no man alive has ever been able to disprove the spiritual? No human being has ever been able to disprove God—but, human beings have proven that there are dimensions beyond ours now, and they can scarcely even tell you what’s inside of them. That tells me that there is, indeed, much more out there than we ever see.

You can argue that being spiritual doesn’t necessarily mean believing that God is real—but I would challenge that statement with this; what is spiritual if God isn’t real? More to the point, why do archeologists find artifacts from the Bible if the story of God is fiction?

Connect the dots.

What you can piece together from all of this is a large, basic point; there is more out there.

And with that being the case—I’m paying closer attention to the awakenings, revivals, and prophetic dreams than I ever did before. I’m also lucky enough to be obsessive, which means I am always over-analyzing every spec of detail around every nook and cranny of this endeavor, making absolutely certain that I am not selecting my beliefs simply based on bias or personal preference. I will not believe in a thing simply because I want to.

I will—just like in the dream, and like I’ve always been in real life—only believe in the things that ring truest.

And what’s starting to ring true now is honestly fairly frightening to me.