Last night I dreamt that I was on a special-ops anti-terrorist mission in the desert somewhere, on the ground with a team of 3. We knew the language, we knew enough of the culture to get by and we were driven towards our aim. We head into a safe-house for terrorists and we know that the basement is connected to a network of underground tunnels.
We find ourselves in the dark down below crouched against the far wall away from the tunnel entrance. Just to the right of us, wooden stairs rise to the cellar doors that lead to the central part of the house which we closed behind us to conceal our presence in the dark.
The tunnel entrance in front of us is illuminated in a strange glow, pale golden white against the backdrop of walls painted a light shade of maroon. Hallways extend both to the right and to the left from this main entrance, so we don’t go in as there would be no way to defend ourselves from both directions with just 3 men. We wait.
Then the moment comes. A pair of eyes. Then another and another. They are coming from both sides walking in single file, uniformly spaced in distance from one another. We open fire and suddenly ten are down, but the flood of them doesn’t stop marching forward. Another fifteen down, and still they are coming.
“This is a massacre,” I think to myself as I suddenly realize that none of these people were armed. “What is this?” I can’t wrap my head around what kind of beings these people are, emerging in force, unarmed, with absolutely no thought of self-preservation. A pain of guilt suddenly rises toward the fallen. We are the terrorists.
I shine a weak light on myself and my men. We are all wearing long beards and decorative caps to blend into our surroundings, we are all fully armed with machine guns and explosives. We certainly fit the bill. We are the terrorists. But who are these people? And what are these strange glowing tunnels that they emerge from?
The light turns on more fully, this time emerging from the tunnel itself. Pale golden white light pours into the room, which now shows its maroon walls as well. These people. Their steady, all seeing eyes. They seem to take no thought of the fallen, they are the most upright, calm, determined, and most loving beings I have ever met. As they pour into the room, I would normally feel captured and prepared to be imprisoned or worse, but I feel more safe than I ever have in my life. I can’t help but notice they dress like the locals except their garbs are more flowing, and they wear nothing on their heads. Every part of them seems to carry this golden white light with them.
As I wake, my higher self says: “Love is rising up from the depths of the earth. Love is pouring down from the celestials of heaven. Love is emerging from most minute quanta of particles. Love will conquer all.”