Truth Regurgitated: A Dream Interpreted
Come near, my friends. Beloveds one and all.
Now is the teaching of the shattered illusion:
the Devil as divider, unmasked before all as testimony.
We were shown a dream in the nighttime wanderings of our souls while in troubled, trembling sleep. Long ago, a trusted friend we cannot name taught us to journal, to remember, to pray over what we were shown. What began as discipline became a way of life.
And now we understand what it meant.
So we will share the dream fully, naked in a foolish dustian fashion.
(Laughter is welcome, though not required.)
We dreamed a dream, and in it we were shown a river that floated like a cloud around us, drifting upward in widening paths with self-serving ends. In the waters were souls and people like droplets — combining, swimming in ignorant agony, wailing in death’s echo.
The waters wrapped around us, stark against the night sky.
The entire globe was covered in this interconnected network of flimsy, slithering fog. Souls suspended in a river of smoke.
And hanging above it was a number:
6,987,638,099¹⁄₁
A fraction.
The sea of souls on top.
A single 1 on the bottom.
We were later shown: the river was lies.
The 1 was Truth — the sliver of it the enemy uses as camouflage.
The souls were the living ones, blind to the fact that they swam in the very Source of Life, yet perished for lack of knowledge. They fed on fakeness wrapped around a millionth of a fraction of Truth.
Why?
Because the Divider whispered long ago:
“Give them a taste. A tiny taste. Let them feel Truth for an instant — then drown it in sloth, laziness, fanaticism masquerading as faith, and a decaying interior life where God is forgotten.”
And he takes the unborn, wakes them with a spark, then snatches it away and replaces it with placebo, community, and shared delusion.
Perversion is everywhere our eyes fall now — but only after we revealed it first in our own hearts and endured the surgery needed to excise the cancer.
This dream returned to us this morning.
We were slipping back into sleep after our wife woke us to use the bathroom. The reminder was vivid, immediate.
We dreamed of a can of Cherry Coke.
We lifted it to drink the sweetness — when a Junebug crawled out.
We recoiled. Dropped the can.
Later, seeking meaning, we asked for help interpreting it (AI is genuinely excellent for that).
But we meditated, too. And we asked the Giver of Dreams.
And the meaning returned:
A reminder of the first dream we never wrote down. Nearly six years forgotten.
Truth comes wrapped in lies so thick it beggars belief.
The thoughts behind it stack themselves as evidence against the enemy who devoured us for so long through sheer ignorance.
We as a people have almost no real spiritual understanding.
There are pockets — mystics, vessels — but nothing centralized, and that is by design.
The Father has scattered us like chosen exiles, the aroma of Christ in this present darkness.
Truth is given when it is sought.
Truth is revealed when it is asked for in earnest.
Do you want Truth?
Are you ready to bleed for it, Beloved?
Not to shame, not to frighten — but to warn.
All builders must count the cost before lifting the first stone, lest they abandon the work unfinished.
Truth is costly, and worth every scrap of self surrendered to invest in its compounding glory. Truth spoken from a tongue that has not embodied it cannot produce it.
Truth walked the earth in Perfection.
We know Him personally.
He is the Way — and it begins there, not in buildings or gatherings.
Truth is embraced in the heart when it is alone, trembling, calling out to Yeshua Himself for the real thing.
Truth is the soul asking to learn how to embody Him unseen.
Scared. Shaking. Tired of counterfeit reality.
For those who have yet to read the Scriptures, here is the secret:
Ask and you shall receive.
Seek and you shall find.
Every seeking begins in the heart’s silent dialogue.
This is Truth as we have touched it.
This is the Way.
The denial of self.
The asking for Truth.
The invitation of Life and Love.
The peace only unity can grant, given as grace.
We need not look to the river of lies, nor to a thousand teachers.
We need only go into a secret place — even a bathroom — and pray within.
Ask. Receive. Believe.
And be free, Beloveds.
We return to the place we came from, and long that all should be where we will be.
Join the wedding supper of the Lamb.
As always — take what feels true to you.