A Personal Experience of Dream Precognition and Dream
By Robert Moss ©1999
In January 1995, I had a thrilling dream in which I went on a cosmic
ride to an earth-mountain floating high above the clouds, out among the
stars. I felt very close to the Goddess here, and worked with a dark-haired
woman who was a warrior-priestess. The place was home to a spiritual university,
where I was both student and teacher. In the drawing I made of it, my earth-mountain
slightly resembles Rene Magritteís surrealist painting 'Le Chateau
des Pyrenees,' with its image of a castle atop a vast rock suspended in
midair. Yet the contours of my earth-mountain are different; the city emerging
from it is married to the rock.
I made my return journey from my dream city on a fabulous steed: a tremendous silvery winged serpent.
Waking, I had no doubt that my dream was a wholly real experience. I had gone on a journey. Through my exhilaration, I experienced the symptoms of travel fatigue. I felt quite certain that I had gone to an actual place, that the spiritual university and the earth-mountain of the Goddess exist somewhere—if not in physical reality—then in a parallel reality that is no less 'real' and maybe even more so. I recalled other dreams in which I had crossed vast halls and passages of cut stone, studied in libraries of ancient wisdom and shared my practice and teachings with wise priestesses, and wondered whether these were memories of other visits to the same dream city.
I did not immediately connect this dream with a waking experience I had two nights later, while I was drumming for a circle of active dreamers. With the help of the drumming, I had invited each member of the group to go back inside his or her dream to unfold its deeper meaning and have adventures inside the dreamscape. Circling the group as I drummed, letting the waves of resonance build, feeling the currents of energy shifting and swirling in the space, I picked up images (as I often do) of each dreamer's experiences: of a woman whose heart opened in the shape of a sacred grotto, of someone buried in the earth and breathing through a tube, of a bird-headed man, of the flying ribbons and fringes of Mongolian horse-shamans, whirling in trance, of a white-haired lady sitting alone in a parlor, waiting for someone to come for her.
Then a different pattern of images opened to my inner sight. While I continued to drum and monitor the group, I found myself journeying swiftly down a long passage of cut stone. At the end of the passage was a sunlit path on a high mountain, leading to a stone gateway that filled me with eager curiosity. The sky overhead was purple. On the path, between me and the gateway, was an extraordinary being. It was the size and general shape of a sturdy child on nine or ten. But its wide, ovoid head resembled 'E.T.' more than any human child. It did not appear to be wearing clothing, yet there was no clear indication of sex. Its entire body glowed a rich, vibrant amber-gold. Indeed, its body seemed to be composed of liquid gold; its energy field shimmered with rainbow lights. As it approached, I felt a delicious tingle as the rainbow shimmer enfolded me. It felt like falling in love, when suddenly the world is fresh and sparkling and the air is filled with champagne bubbles.
I had to pull out of the journey to look after my group, to bring them all safely home from their dream journeys and help them to work out how to interpret and honor their experiences. Later, at home, I made a series of drawings of the being of liquid gold and the inviting stone gateway on the high mountain path. The figure reminded me, most strongly, of pre-Columbian gold statues ñ except that it was richly and vibrantly alive. Could it be that visions like mine had inspired the ancient sculptors?
I glanced through several books about pre-Columbian
art, hoping to find a similar figure, but did not locate a match.
I filed my dream reports and my drawings away carefully, as I have been doing for many years, and that was the end of the story, until four years later, when waking events caught up with my dreams.
In December, 1998, a spirited, dark-haired woman called Vera Shapiro approached me with an intriguing proposal. She had heard about my work through a mutual friend and had 'devoured' my book Dreamgates. Would I be willing to lead a dream journey to the sacred sites of Peru? I've never been to Peru, I told her. "That's okay," she responded, "I've been leading groups to Peru for eleven years. I love the land and the people and I know some of the local shamans. I'll be the travel coordinator and you'll be the dream leader. I'll guide us through the physical landscape and you will show us how to dream with the mountain spirits and journey to the stars."
It was an exciting proposal. But, in the thick of a very busy workshop and writing schedule, I needed some time to think it over. As I began my research on the Incas and their descendants, I became fascinated by the concept of 'stepping outside time.' According to the Qíeros, a shamanic people of the high Andes who preserved Inca traditions intact in seclusion from the outside world for four centuries after the Spanish conquest, pachakuti is a time of profound challenge and transformation in the world and in human consciousness. In the life of an individual, it is a time of both terror and beauty, a time when we can step beyond our negative habits and self-limiting beliefs and personal histories into a larger life, in harmony with our deepest spiritual purpose. To step outside time is also to become able to fold time and travel into the future or the past—and change linear history.
My reading binge fed my intuitive belief that the dream expedition to Peru could be a very rich experience for me, as well as my companions on the road. I particularly liked the idea that I would be both student and teacher on this trail, a welcome change from the many situations in which I was the lecturer in front of the audience or the sole leader within the circle.
But one thing puzzled me.
If Peru was on my itinerary, where were my dreams about it?
I have come to believe that we dream about the events in our lives, large and small, before they happen in ordinary reality. In our dreams, we seem to be constantly rehearsing for situations that lie ahead. We see round the corner. In dreams, all of us are psychic. In relation to this, I have been my own lab rat for most of a lifetime. I have monitored literally thousands of precognitive dreams in my personal journals, as well as working with an equal or larger number of future dreams contributed by people who come to my workshops or write to me about their experiences.
So where were my dreams of Peru?
A quick check of my dreams from the six months before Vera contacted me turned up only a few, notably a scene in a waiting room at a train station or airport where an official made an announcement for passengers departing for Peru, and a couple of dreams in which I now felt I might have met Vera and rehearsed our possible collaboration. But where were the big dreams?
They literally fell out of an art portfolio when I opened it to show a house-guest some of my dream-inspired pictures. There I was, riding the winged serpent to the earth-mountain. There was the being of liquid gold in front of the stone gateway. I had now learned that the Inca priests displayed a 'childlike' gold statue of Inti, their sun-god, at the most sacred place in the mountain city of Machu Picchu—and that this 'city above the clouds' was a kind of spiritual university. The shapes and colors of the stonework in photos of Machu Picchu (including a virtual reality site I found on the internet) were strongly evocative of my vision in the drumming circle. Was it possible that—in an altered state of consciousness—I had encountered a spiritual energy of the Andes, an Inca deity? Could it be that, four years before I thought of going to Peru, the dream people of Peru were calling me?
Surfing the internet with these questions in my head, I paused at an image from Machu Picchu that popped up as I hunted for references to 'Inti.' There, in startling chiaroscuro, was the stone gateway from my vision. It is the doorway to the enclosure of the Temple of the Sun at Machu Picchu!
I hit the print button. I put the photocopy and one of my sketches showing the man of gold and the stone gateway in an envelope and mailed them to Vera. Yes, I was going to Peru.
Some of the shamans of Peru say that we grow in authentic power by hunting and catching dreams.
The Peruvian sequence I have shared above—plucked from the midst of an evolving, unfinished story—provides clues to what this may mean.
Dreaming, we step outside our bodies and beyond spacetime. We see things at a distance. We voyage into the possible future and into other times and other dimensions. The ability to see into the future in our dreams is not a rare gift, and there is nothing supernatural about it. It is an entirely natural ability that belongs to all human beings.
Dreaming, we fold time and see future events. It is widely but mistakenly believed that such 'future dreams' are mostly about death and disaster, or about events that will manifest in waking life within a few hours or a day or two after the dream. The reasons for these two misconceptions are: (1) people who do not journal their dreams and have limited dream recall tend to remember the scary, hair-raising dreams and miss out on the rich tapestry of other dream experiences; (2) it is easier to make the connection between a dream and an event that follows close on its heels than with one that comes months, years or even decades later. With practice and faithful journaling which involves looking back regularly over old journal records, we can become better and better at catching precognitive messages long before the corresponding events take shape in physical reality. This gives us the opportunity to make wiser choices.
Once we wake up to the fact that we dream the future, maybe all the time, we can practice the powerful improvisational art of changing the future for the better. The futures we perceive in dreams are possible futures. The degree of probability that a possible future scenario will be played out in ordinary life can be changed. You have a better chance of changing the future for the better if you have clear and timely information about the probable consequences of your present actions and attitudes.
Best of all, once we fully awaken to the fact that dreams are often memories of the future, we can become active creators of the future, working to manifest the energy and insight of our best dreams in waking life. My dreams of sacred sites and sacred energies in the high Andes are more than examples of dream precognition. They are dreams that exercise a magnetic pull, dreams that seem to want to be manifested in physical reality. They also demonstrate how dreams and the powers that speak through dreams call us to a deeper life. The dream people are calling us.
Robert Moss is the author of Conscious Dreaming and Dreamgates and leads popular dream workshops all over the world. For information on his Dream Journey to Peru this summer, please email email@example.com firstname.lastname@example.org. You may contact Robert at Moss.Robert@worldnet.att.net
Invitation to Share Precognitive Dreams
I am writing a book about how we dream the future and can use precognitive elements in our dreams to change the future for the better. I would welcome any personal experiences you would like to share, preferably with the dates of the original dreams and of the corresponding events in waking life. I would be interested in any personal 'markers' (e.g. a phone call or the appearance of a departed person) that have helped you to identify precognitive dreams before they have been played out in waking life. I will send a free copy of my 6-cassette Dream Gates audio series to the Dream Network reader who contributes my 'favorite' dream. Please write to: Robert Moss, Box 215, Troy NY 12181, fax (518) 274-0506, email Moss.Robert@worldnet.att.net.