The Mystery of Dreams Finally Solved
The Layman Perhaps nothing to come out of the human mind has so fascinated, inspired, and confused us quite like dreams. There have been many theories as to what they are: the by-product of the mind categorizing memories as it organizes a day’s worth of data; the result of the brain trying to make sense of random neurotransmitter misfirings; the way conscious thought delicately deals with subconscious stress; the communication of the soul with the brain; frequencies our brainwaves pick up from our future selves, the collective consciousness, aliens, or powerful forces with mind-manipulating technology; and on and on. There may be some truth to any of these theories, but for me, the explanation that makes the most sense not only explains the science of what dreams are, but also explains how they are often able to foretell the future, particularly, our individual and collective destiny. We all know computers sleep, but do they dream? On some level at least, I believe they do. Back when I had my desktop Mac, there were times when it would suddenly awaken from sleep mode in the middle of the night, eerily turning on by itself at like 3am, as if being awoken by a rather vivid dream. Even with my laptop, sometimes when I awaken it from sleep mode, it gives me a split-second screen full of strange symbols and characters before transforming them into the icons I’m more familiar with. It’s not unlike the raw symbolism of dreams, These symbols could represent the semi-processed stimuli the brain attempts to make sense of, piecing them together with a narrative that becomes a dream. But what is this stimuli and where does it come from? I’ve written before about how I believe the brain is like an antenna, picking up on the particular frequencies it’s tuned to, receiving programming from another realm that’s meant to help guide us through life. No doubt, these frequencies come in a raw, complex, heavenly form that our physical, time-constrained, earth-bound brains translate into various symbolic imagery as best they can. This antenna analogy works pretty well if you see the communication coming from our celestial souls as they connect with their host carnal bodies, but perhaps is even simpler to understand from within the perspective of life as a computer simulation. I’ve already provided quite a bit of evidence as to why I believe that our experience of life is either a literal or figurative computer simulation. If you still don’t subscribe to the theory, perhaps this simple explanation of dreams from the simulation perspective will resonate more for you. If we do live in a simulation, it would make sense that every once in awhile our programmers would need to update our code. This revised coding could make slight personality adjustments or update the scenarios that we’d individually or collectively face in the coming days (i.e., a stray dog chasing you, losing your job, meeting an old friend, etc.). But exactly when would these updates occur? Most likely when we’re offline, so to speak. And we’re offline while we sleep. That’s when we get these coding updates. They get downloaded into our antenna (or WiFi-attuned) brains. But our brains, not knowing the difference between the uploaded new coding and the coded stimuli it processes on a daily basis, tries to make sense of it the best it can—as symbolic images and archetypes. When they do a good enough job, the dreams literally come true, since the codes have been sent to update our experience. But even when something’s lost in translation making the symbolism vague at best, the dreams can always be interpreted through the generally accepted meaning of the symbols. In other words, imagine updating a video game so that the main character will turn into the Hulk when it gets angry. The character, offline while the coding occurs, still picks up on it. The coding is written so that when the character experiences heavy emotion he transforms physically in relation to the intensity of that emotion. Symbolically, water represents emotion. Intense emotion could be represented as a roaring rapids or waterfall. Emotion turning physical could be freezing water into ice, and perhaps cracking. So while the coding is uploaded, the character could “dream”of rowing a boat gently down the stream, which turns to rapids, sending him over a waterfall, which then freezes, and cracks into a million pieces, because “Hulk smash.” Then, when being played in the game, the character turns into the incredible Hulk and something seems familiar about it all to him. It’s a déjà vu because the character subconsciously recalls the programming that set the scenario in action. In our simulated world, we don’t turn into Incredible Hulks. But we do experience situations that evoke a response based upon a combination of our personalities and prior experiences—both of which could’ve been coded! As an example, I’ll use three dreams that I consider classic archetypes of my own life. The first I had when I was about five. I was running away from monsters in my childhood home. I ran upstairs to my parents’ room and found my mom crouching behind the bed. She gave me a look as to say, “follow me” and disappeared. But I didn’t know where she went or how to follow her. Peeking over the bed, I saw the monsters had just reached the top of the stairs and were coming right for me! And now, I was on my own. Even though I had this dream as a child, I believe it represents a major plot point of my adult life—my mother dying just as I was facing a number of major challenging transitions. Without a mother to provide guidance, I was left with having to make many major life decisions on my own, forcing me to face my demons, step outside my comfort zone, and take a leap of faith—all experiences I believe I was meant to have. Perhaps the being (soul, game-player, etc) that is playing my character wanted to experience these challenges so that it could make itself stronger in the outside realm. These might be issues it was dealing with, and by practicing within the simulation, it could overcome them in the outside world as well. While the basics of my personality may have been coded in this realm to be similar to that of the game-player, and the experiences created to incite certain decisions, these decisions would likely be entirely made by the player, thinking that he’s really in the game. This way, when he is done with the game, the decisions and any related growth from them, are all real! In other words, I am actually the player, playing a character in a simulated world that’s so realistic, I don’t know it’s all been created to help me grow. In this realm, my growth can be completely manipulated and controlled in order to yield an intended result. In the outside, completely random world, such growth could take hundreds or even thousands of years to happen naturally on its own. In the second dream, which I had at about six or seven years old, I was carrying a puzzle I’d just completed downstairs, probably to glue together and post on the wall in the basement as we used to do. But I tripped and the puzzle pieces went all over the place. Frustrated by all my hard work going to waste (never mind my bruised body from falling down the stairs), I immediately began to reassemble the puzzle. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a huge, creepy witch appeared. Unable to make the decision as to whether I should run for my life or finish the puzzle, I froze—my computer-brain reading a conflicting error and crashing. Of course, most people would run from certain danger. But from the perspective of my perfectionistic personality, it makes total sense as to why I would consider putting my life in jeopardy rather than letting go of fixing something I’d initially worked so hard to complete. It’s a theme that’s come up again and again in my life. The dream could’ve been a result of a basic personality coding—that of a perfectionist. It also could’ve been a prototypical situation that my character will continually face until he learns to either let go of unfinished projects that aren’t serving him, or deal with challenges that are preventing him from finishing them. Trying to fight or flee from witches while simultaneously putting together a puzzle isn’t a very effective strategy. Even though that, figuratively speaking, it’s one that I myself, and many of us, continually attempt to do. Perhaps you can think of an example from your life where you are trying to focus on a goal while continually having to deal with other projects and challenges that may not even be necessary from the perspective of the big picture. In the third, and creepiest dream, which I had some time between four and eight years old, I was sitting on my parents’ bed with my dad, I think. Maybe we were reading a book. Somehow, he became preoccupied with something else, maybe talking on the phone, and for some reason that I don’t recall, I decided to lean over the side of the bed and look underneath. I just now remembered that when I looked into the darkness there was a strange flash, just as in the witch dream. From this point forward, the dream was no longer my point of view, but that of me watching myself like a movie. As I lifted my head back up to return to the top of the bed, I saw that I no longer had eyes, just dark, empty sockets. Will looking too deeply for answers leave my blind to the here and now? Will my curiosity to see what’s behind the curtain result in my lack of vision for my own reality? Or will my search for wisdom leave me like a blind, yet wise, old man who no longer needs to rely on his senses to see the truth of existence? I’ve come up with hundreds of interpretations and meanings for all three of these dreams. I believe the reason that they’ve haunted me for all these years is because they are so intertwined with who I am, my life story, and perhaps, the major challenges I’m meant to overcome. Perhaps, you have some dreams that haunt you as well. Perhaps they hold answers to questions you have about your life now. Just as with the videogame character example above, when our life catches up to the coded programming that manifested as our dream, the result feels familiar. The similarities from your subconscious coding and conscious experience resonate, which brings about feedback that we experience as déjà vu. If the subconscious memory enters the conscious mind, we get a premonition. In this case, something familiar from your coded upload matches your current experience, triggering a memory. But it’s a memory that hasn’t been played out yet. As is true of any videogame character, nothing can happen in our experience unless it’s already been programmed. Recalling the program before it’s played out is the premonition, and it could be triggered moments before something is about to happen, or weeks, months, or even years before. If it’s triggered any time before, it’s a premonition, if simultaneously, it’s a déjà vu. If you’d like to see whether there’s something to this theory, the first thing you need to do is remember more of your dreams. I recommend sleeping on your back for the best reception (your pineal gland antenna gets better WiFi reception that way). When you first wake up, stay still with your eyes closed if you can and recall as much of the dream as you can. Then, immediately write it down. The more you focus on doing this, the more dreams you’ll start to remember. Try to wake up through natural means or at least natural sounds, rather than a beeping clock alarm. Maybe ocean waves or gentle instrumental music. If you have recurring imagery in your dreams—say, elevators—every time you experience it in your waking life, ask yourself whether or not you are in a dream. Looking at your watch or phone is a good test. It’s rare that you can read small print in a dream. Get into the habit and after awhile, you’ll remember to do the test in your dream. Once you do, you’ll realize you’re dreaming; creating a lucid dream that enables you to have experiences and get answers that wouldn’t be available to you otherwise. 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