Time is braided like our DNA, and their braids do not exist without one another. Their combination creates the story. You know the one. It’s where we fold inward with all that we’ve become and will ever be. The beautiful thing is that we always have access to this story through song and sleep. A golden lullaby, singing the way to forever through the future’s past. This is source of the present (you.)
My dreams have become much more enjoyable since noticing that music is to be treated as a divine channel. Through vibrational language, we truly time travel to the distant past and future. In this way, we have all been voyeurs to our ancestral voyage, even with our hands at the helm.
Much like music, dreams provide the ability to participate with the self from a peripheral view. A song within a dream can be a reliquary for meanings too sacred for waking life. Once the sun rises, the song should vanish like dew—leaving behind only the impulse to remember. To recall it entirely would be to break something precious. Yet there is nothing more natural than the urge to piece it together, and look through the glass once again.
What you will be blessed with upon awakening is fractures of a message given to you through a medium you love. Delivered by people you’ve never seen, who felt familiar the moment you looked at them. You get the gift of knowing there is no need to close your eyes or hum the tune. You will still see them clearly. Whether or not they can picture you was never the point. You felt their presence within your present state, and for that you will always be a welcome visitor to your future ancestors.
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