From Journal
Entry 11/21/2025
The dream
began with me leaving a high school. My daughter had just graduated, and we
walked out together into the open air before going our separate ways. She
drifted in one direction while I went in another. It felt symbolic, as if a
part of me was moving into its own independence, growing up and stepping into
its next phase. I didn’t feel sad...just aware that I was walking my own path,
separate from anyone else.
The dream
shifted, and suddenly I was inside an old tavern/general store, the kind that
feels half like the Wild West and half like some timeless spiritual
saloon. There was a man standing near the center giving some kind of
speech. His rhetoric felt inflated and empty to me...full of noise but no
truth. Everyone else seemed hypnotized by him, hanging on his every word.
Off to the
side, a woman was singing. Her voice was beautiful, clear, emotional, true. But
no one was paying attention to her. It bothered me deeply. I could feel her
authenticity, her soul, while this man’s speech just felt like ego and air.
When she
stopped singing, I called out, “Sing again!”
I wanted
her voice to rise above the nonsense. My calling her out seemed to irritate the
man giving the speech, but I didn’t care. I was tired of false voices getting
the spotlight while the real ones went unnoticed.
What
struck me most is that in the dream, I was trying so hard to write down the
lyrics she was singing. I didn’t want to lose them. I felt this urgency...this
need to bring her message back with me into waking life. Even half-lucid, I
kept thinking, Remember this. Remember her words. But the lyrics evaporated
like mist every time I tried to grasp them. Even now, awake, all I have left is
the feeling they carried: truth, longing, beauty.
At some
point in that tavern, I became fully lucid. I realized I was dreaming, and the
first thing I did was drop my purse. I had brought it with me as if I were
still in the normal world, and when lucidity hit me, I thought, Fuck, I don’t
need this. None of this stuff matters here. I left it behind without
hesitation. The freedom of that moment felt symbolic like shedding old roles,
old baggage, anything tied to identity or responsibility I no longer needed to
carry.
When I
walked outside, the air was thick with a dust storm swirling around me, but
somehow there were also beautiful green shrubs...alive, vibrant, untouched by
the chaos. The contrast struck me. Life and renewal beside dryness and
confusion. Clarity and obscurity in the same breath. And that’s when I started
talking to God.
More like
yelling at Him.
I cried
out, “Where are You? I don’t feel You like I used to. I used to feel You inside
me all the time. Why don’t I feel you now? What’s going on?”
It came
from a place of longing, almost grief. I wasn’t angry...just desperate to
reconnect. I missed that closeness, that vibrational presence I used to feel so
easily. Standing in that swirling dust, with green life still growing around
me, I felt both lost and held at the same time.
Looking back,
I can see the symbolism clearly:
The man’s
speech was the world’s noise...external voices, expectations, bullshit.
The singing
woman was my intuition...my spiritual voice, creativity, truth.
The fact that
I tried to write down her lyrics shows how deeply I’m trying to capture and
return to my inner voice; to remember the messages my soul gives me even when
the world is loud.
The dust
storm represented the confusion I’ve been feeling spiritually, the sense of
dryness or distance. And the green shrubs were the reminder that God is still
here, that life is still thriving underneath the dust, even when I can’t feel
the warmth the way I used to.
And leaving
my purse behind felt like stepping into a new phase of my spiritual journey.
One where I release old identities and follow my deeper truth.
I think this
dream came to show me that even when the world is noisy and my connection feels
muted, my intuition is still singing. God is still present. Growth is still
happening. And I am still evolving...becoming more aware, more awake, and more
aligned with the quiet voice within. Sometimes the soul speaks in songs we
can’t quite remember when we wake up. But the feeling stays.
All my love
and light,
Madison
Meadows