A Dream I woke up from this Morning;
⟁ Shedding the Old | Stepping Into the Unknown
I woke at 4 a.m., less than an hour ago, from a dream that left me disoriented and hollow.
In it, I found myself in a room shared with wandering souls—young, white travelers. The room was in chaos. My belongings were gone or destroyed. Even my guitar—my companion, my voice—was no more.
There was a strange parade outside. People carrying placards. I couldn’t read them. I couldn’t tell what they were marching for. Everyone was rushing forward, towards something. But I didn’t know what, and I didn’t care. I stood apart.
Elsewhere in the dream, a group of Malay intellectuals appeared—respected minds, including Hasnul, my old friend and fellow seeker. Yet I felt distant. Severed. Unseen. I remember letting out a silent scream in front of them—not out of anger or despair, but like a spirit crying into the void, not to be heard, but to be released.
And then I woke up.
The dream made little sense—but its aftertaste lingered. So I sat in stillness. I meditated. I listened.
And in that quiet space, I realized:
I was witnessing a shedding.
The destruction was not a loss.
It was a letting go.
The room, the crowd, the guitar, the parade, the scream—all symbols. The dissolution of an old self, quietly stepping aside.
Something in me is ready to step forward.
Not into certainty.
But into the unknown.
And I accept that.
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