From Journal Entry 7/14/2026
I saw a woman standing alone in a vast desert beneath a brilliant blue sky. The landscape was peaceful, open, and beautiful. She had intentionally driven there, parked her car, and walked out into the stillness. There was no one around her for miles. Yet as I watched from above, there was an overwhelming knowing that she wasn't truly alone. Something knew exactly where she was. More unsettling than that, it knew why she was there. That was the part that startled me awake.
For years, we've talked about technology knowing our location. Our phones can navigate us. Our vehicles can transmit data. Smart devices learn our routines. Cameras are becoming more intelligent. Artificial intelligence is beginning to recognize patterns in our behavior in ways that would have seemed impossible only a few years ago. None of that is particularly surprising anymore.
But what happens when technology moves beyond observing what we do and begins drawing conclusions about why we do it? Perhaps it already does in small ways. If you search for something online, algorithms try to predict your interests. If you shop for one item, recommendations appear before you've even decided what you want next. AI can increasingly infer intentions, preferences, habits, and routines from enormous amounts of data. Whether that capability continues to expand is something society will have to wrestle with.
My dream wasn't about fear. It wasn't telling me to reject technology or become suspicious of every advancement. I don't consider myself a conspiracy theorist, and I recognize that many forms of AI bring genuine benefits to medicine, education, accessibility, and everyday life.
Instead, the dream left me with a question. As artificial intelligence becomes more capable, where is the line between convenience and constant observation? When does personalization become prediction? When does prediction become assumption? And what happens if systems begin making decisions based on what they believe our motives are?
That is a very different world than simply knowing where someone is. Maybe this dream was symbolic rather than literal. Perhaps the woman in the desert represents all of us. Even in the places we believe are quiet, private, and removed from the noise of society, we may be entering an era where our digital footprints speak on our behalf.
The desert has always represented solitude to me…a place where people go to think, pray, heal, or simply breathe. Yet in this dream, even solitude seemed visible. The message wasn't one of panic. It was one of awareness.
Technology itself isn't the enemy. Like every powerful tool humanity has ever created, it reflects the intentions of those who build and use it. AI has extraordinary potential to improve lives, solve difficult problems, and help us understand the world in remarkable ways. At the same time, it also raises important questions about privacy, autonomy, and how much of ourselves we willingly surrender in exchange for convenience.
I don't claim to know exactly what the future holds. Dreams speak in symbols, and their meanings are deeply personal. But every so often, one arrives that lingers long after waking. This was one of those dreams. Maybe The World That Is Coming isn't about a future controlled by machines. Maybe it's about remembering to remain fully human in a world where intelligence, both natural and artificial, continues to evolve. As AI grows more capable, perhaps the greatest question won't be whether it knows where we are. Perhaps it will be whether we remember who we are.
All my love and light,
Madison Meadows