Five Strange Dreams, One Clear Message: I’m Done Performing. I’m Becoming.

Hey—Loui here, decoding my dreams from last night.
Still molting. Still on fire. Still dragging sacred symbols out of my dream-brain like they left the stove on and ran.

✦ Dreams:

• A huge man landed from the sky with a volcano strapped across his back like it was no big deal. He wore a white Egyptian-style crown, a white skirt, no shirt. He looked pleased about the eruption.

• Trees were vibrating with waves of energy—like the breath of the earth had become visible.

• A man in a red jacket and black gloves waved at me. He had black goggles with three eyes. I waved back. He waved again. It felt serious. I wrote “wave” twice in my journal.

• Two women were auditioning on a bridge. They fell mid-performance into the water. Their screams were cartoon-level shrill. I didn’t panic. I laughed.

• There was a painting of me—Picasso style. Blue. Fragmented. But holy.

✦ What it means, in short:

I carry the fire and I carry it well.
My body reads energy like a forest.
My future self is already building the next version of me.
The performance masks have fallen.
And the portrait that remains?
That’s me—reframed and sacred.

✦ DREAM ONE: The Volcano Man Who Landed Like a Mood

He landed. From the sky.
Volcano across his back like it was a bath towel. No panic. No struggle. Just—

“Yeah, I carry eruption like some people carry yoga mats.”

White crown. White ritual skirt. No shirt.
He looked like a sacred gladiator who just finished building a shrine and bench-pressing his unresolved childhood.
That was me. In myth form. Fully committed to the bit. Fully loaded with sacred fire.

And the volcano?

That’s the pressure cooker of my whole history:
my past, my rage, my bloodline, my bad days, my sacred tantrums.
All the stuff that used to feel too big to hold.

I used to flinch from it.
Now I show up carrying it like it’s part of the outfit.

I didn’t survive the fire.
I became the shelf that holds it.

This dream wasn’t subtle. It basically screamed:

“You’re not just strong. You’re built for sacred pressure.
Stop waiting for someone to hand you a crown—you already landed in one.”

🔍 Symbols:

• Volcano = The full-pressure past. The story that used to scare me. Now it fuels me.

• White crown + skirt = Sacred masculine turned ritual-ready. Not trying to be liked. Just real.

• No shirt = I’m not hiding. I’m letting people see how I hold things.

• Landing from the sky = I don’t tiptoe into my power. I drop in like it’s my house.

I carry all of it.
The past, the pressure, the sacred heat.
Because it’s mine.

✦ DREAM TWO: The Trees Were Breathing

Looked up. Trees were vibrating.
Waves of light through every branch like the forest was exhaling into my bones.

This wasn’t metaphor.
This was a system update.

My body sees energy now.
My frequency isn’t buffering anymore.

🔍 Symbols:

• Trees = My nervous system, fully rooted.

• Waves = Energy unlocked. Breath made visible.

• Looking up = I’m aligned. Spine to sky. Fully plugged in.

I don’t float above life. I tune into it. My whole system knows the song now.

✦ DREAM THREE: The Goggled Man Waved—Twice

He was in a red jacket. Gloves on.
Goggles with three eyes. Building something. Looked up.
Waved once. I waved back.
He waved again like, “Featherbrain. Less journal. More jump in.”

That’s me again.
Already building the next version.
Not waiting for clarity. Already halfway through construction.

🔍 Symbols:

• Red jacket = I’m grounded. Rooted. Online.

• Gloves = I handle power like I know what I’m doing. Because I do.

• Three eyes = My full timeline vision is activated.

• Double wave = I already said yes. Time to move.

The build’s already happening. I'm already inside the blueprint.

✦ DREAM FOUR: Two women auditioning on a bridge

Two try-hard versions of me were auditioning on a bridge.
They were mid-performance when they fell into the water.
Screamed like squeaky toys possessed by desperation. I watched. I didn’t flinch.
I laughed. Because oh—they were me.

🔍 Symbols:

• The audition = Old survival script.

• The bridge = Fake passage to acceptance.

• The fall = End of the performance era.

• My laugh = Release. Joy. Goodbye.

I don’t perform anymore. I just exist. And it’s enough.

✦ DREAM FIVE: The Blue Painting of Me

A Picasso-style painting. All blue angles and red lips.
She didn’t smile. Didn’t pose. Just stared. Fully aware. Fully composed.
Not asking for fixing. Just being.

This is the version of me that doesn’t shape-shift.
She holds.

🔍 Symbols:

• Blue = Deep knowing. Inner stillness.

• Fragmented = Multidimensional self. Every angle belongs.

• No smile = No mask. I don’t sell comfort anymore.

• Cubism = Every truth at once.

I don’t need to be simple. I’m clear.

✦ What I Took From It All

Five dreams. One loud message.

The man with the volcano? That’s my stride.
The trees? That’s my nervous system singing.
The goggled builder? Already clocked in.
The audition girls? Retired.
The painting? The frame fits now.

I hold the fire. I read the frequency.
I’ve waved myself in. I walk forward. I exist in truth geometry.
No waiting. No mask. No test.

This is what becoming looks like.
And it glows.