|"The danger was never just the snake. It was the fear we poured into it."
Some dreams aren’t just stories our mind tells in sleep—they’re symbols, warnings, or revelations. This one came to me like a film I was starring in. It left me with a message that reshaped how I see fear, choice, and perception.
Here’s the tale.
Date:02 MAY 2025
I was not myself—I was a character in a film I didn’t remember auditioning for. The sky burned with orange smoke, and chaos trembled beneath my feet. From the shadows of towering ruins slithered a creature born of nightmares: a serpent so massive it could only be myth—a living Titanoboa, awakened and furious.
People ran, screamed, and stumbled. The snake struck, and I saw them fall—some injured, some crying for help. My heart wrenched, but a voice inside me, calm and cold, whispered, "You can't save everyone." There were others—those whose survival would shape something greater. I turned to them, gritted my teeth, and led them toward the train.
The metallic beast stood still, waiting—our only hope. We boarded quickly, but the snake was not done. It twisted through underground pipes to force its way in, but the train’s structure held firm. As the engine roared to life and we sped into the unknown, I dared to hope.
Then the world changed.
The train stopped in a desert—bare, silent, golden. There, in the open sands, I saw the same snake. Only now, it was smaller, gentler, and strangely playful. Children giggled around it, fearless. The serpent slithered among them, not as a predator, but as a friend.
That moment hit me like thunder:
The danger was never just the snake. It was the fear we poured into it.
Message:
Fear can be monstrous when we feed it. But if we shift our perspective, even the fiercest threats can lose their power. Sometimes, what harms us in one story becomes harmless in another. We decide which version we live in.
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