Why do we dream of lives that feel just out of reach? Are these glimpses of the future our subconscious speaking? Or are they reflections of something deeper, something already within us, waiting to unfold? Perhaps it’s the power of dreaming.
Lately, I have been waking up in my dreams. Not just physically stirring in the night, but realising I am dreaming. I am aware. Lucid.
What is even more strange is that in these dreams, I am not in familiar places from my past. I am somewhere ahead. A version of the future that feels soft, true, and almost heartbreakingly real. I am there. Present. And even after waking, it lingers. Like the truth.
It makes me wonder. Are our dreams trying to show us who we are now? Or who we are becoming?
The more I reflect on this, the more I believe dreams are not separate from us. They are extensions of our inner knowing. They do not lie. They speak in symbols, in feelings and in echoes of what is real and what is possible.
Dreams may not always reflect who we are in the moment. But they reflect something essential. Something longing to emerge.
In both science and psychology, dreams have long been studied for their connection to the unconscious mind. According to Carl Jung, dreams are portals to the self. They are mirrors of what we repress, deny, or cannot yet say aloud.
When we dream of things that are not quite us yet, we might ask, why this? But the more important question might be, which part of me is asking to be seen?
Sometimes we dream of versions of ourselves we barely recognise. That does not make them untrue. It may only mean we have buried those parts beneath fear, expectation, or the need to survive.
Our dreams are breadcrumbs. They trace a path back to wholeness.
I know not everyone experiences dreaming in this way. Some people live fully in the practicality of the present. They rarely remember their dreams or wonder what they might mean. And sometimes, I envy that ease.
But for the dreamer, for those of us who see with eyes both closed and open, this space in between is sacred. It is where our inner world softens into vision. It is where vision becomes direction.
Many of us live at a distance from our deeper selves. We often keep that gap wide because becoming who we truly are can be frightening. It asks everything of us.
We sabotage the bridge between the now and the not yet by saying it is too hard, too late, or not meant for me. But when we pause and truly listen, we realise we already know the way. It is within us. It has always been within us.
I have felt this in dream states and in waking life. There are moments, sometimes subtle and sometimes undeniable, when I realise I am living something I once only dreamed of.
That is not an accident. That is alignment. That is the bridge meeting me where I stand.
So I ask myself. What relationships feel real? What emotions feel like truth? What spaces feel like home, even if I have not yet lived in them?
Letting go of everything else, the noise and the illusions, makes the merging feel natural. It becomes unforced. That is when the dream begins to become part of reality.
If you are not remembering your dreams, begin by keeping a journal. Let the pen move without logic. That subconscious thread is trying to speak.
Or allow yourself to be seen by someone safe. Someone who can hold the tender, unfolding parts of you without rushing them. Because being present is also a portal.
Lucid dreaming, journaling, presence and visioning are all ways of remembering who we are beneath the surface. Beneath the performance.
And when we return to that knowing, even briefly, we touch joy. Not the fleeting kind, but the kind that is still and rooted. The kind that knows, I am on my way, and I am also already home.
So, if you are dreaming right now, ask yourself, what part of me is waking up?
And if you fear the dream, maybe that is a sign it is real. That it matters. That it is yours.
Because the truth is, our dreams are not fantasies. They are invitations. They show us how it feels to be in alignment before we arrive there physically. And when we begin to live from that feeling, even just a little, we become it.
Not someday. But now.
So, keep dreaming. Keep listening. And when the bridge starts forming beneath your feet, do not be afraid to walk it. Gently. Fully. Awake.
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