Mission Accomplished – A Dream I Can’t Forget

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Hey, this is CH from the Celestial Voyagers Division.
My brain never rests — it processes multiple tabs at once, each one opening to a world made of feelings, fragments, and faces. I dive into pools of emotions that overlap like waves. Sometimes I meet myself — the other versions — we talk, argue, or simply observe each other in silence. And together, we speak in the language of dreams.

All this happens in my dreams. They’re not just stories; they’re transmissions from somewhere deep in me, perhaps from a realm my waking self barely understands.
And today, I’ll narrate one such dream — one that gripped my consciousness so tightly that even after awakening, its fragments linger like whispers from another dimension.

The Dream

The surroundings seem normal
Until flashes of memory started playing
Like it has happened before
Like I'm familiar with all the scenes
All the things including the people
Were the same — returned to my college

But it was kind of weird weather that day
Very strange but pleasant
I went to the third floor
Enjoying the winds blowing
But what caught my attention
Was a view

Few people taking dive from the top floor
Like a swimmer into a pool
Straight to the ground and vanished
With a chanting they were singing very hard

Suddenly my phone buzzed
I picked up the call
But the call ended with a note and eerie sound
“Mission Accomplished”
“Go back to your roommates — you'll find your answers from them.”

I went to my room
And I saw burnt ashes with a death mark
My roommates were slaves of demons
They were death eaters.
And their intention and mission —
Both are under mystery.

Expansion – What Really Happened

That evening felt strangely lucid — the kind of dream where awareness mixes with surrender. I remember standing on that third floor, the winds brushing against me, almost whispering warnings I couldn’t quite interpret. The sky glowed copper-red, and the air was humming, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

I saw people climb the railings — not out of fear, but with purpose. They looked peaceful, focused, chanting in unison. Each dive created ripples, though there was no water below. It wasn’t falling; it was transitioning — as if they were disappearing into another plane. There was an eerie peace in their actions, like a ritual beyond comprehension.

When my phone rang, I hesitated. The voice on the other end was distorted — neither male nor female — calm yet unsettling.
“Mission Accomplished. Go back to your roommates; you’ll find your answers from them.”
Then the call cut to silence, replaced by that low, vibrating hum that lingered in my bones.

I rushed back. My room — once filled with laughter every day — was now gray, lifeless, and blanketed in ashes. The smell of smoke and something unearthly filled the air. Symbols spiraled across the walls, glowing faintly as if alive. In that moment, a deep realization struck me — they weren’t victims. They chose to merge with what they worshipped. They had transcended, becoming something beyond the reach of life and death.

I stood frozen, staring at those markings, and for the first time, I understood. Maybe “Mission Accomplished” wasn’t the end of their story — it was the beginning of mine. The message wasn’t meant for them. It was for me.

Fear didn’t strike me instantly; curiosity did. I stepped closer, trying to read the symbols, but everything blurred into blinding light. In that instant, clarity washed over me — this wasn’t a nightmare. It was an initiation. The “mission” wasn’t theirs. It was mine.

Epilogue – The Awakening

When I woke up, the echo of that chant was still somewhere between my ears and the morning silence.
My room was normal again, yet an emptiness lingered — like returning from a place that was too real to be unreal.

Since then, I’ve wondered: Was the dream a vision, or a message?
Maybe the “death eaters” were fragments of my own negative emotions — the parts of me that had to burn away.
Maybe the “mission” was about letting go — understanding what parts of myself needed to vanish for something else to emerge.

Dreams are my messengers.
They speak in encrypted languages — symbols, faces, sensations.
And as CH from the Celestial Voyagers Division, I’ve realized I’m both the observer and the observed — the dreamer and the dreamed.

The Silence After

Since that night, every dream has become deeper, more vivid.
I wake up remembering voices that never spoke and places that don’t exist here.
I’ve learned that dreams don’t come from fantasy — they come from the unspoken corners of our consciousness.

Perhaps this mission wasn’t about demons or rituals at all.
It was about the transformation of my mind — the moment my awareness crossed its own threshold.
That silence afterward wasn’t emptiness; it was awakening.

Hey, this is me— and the silence I hold is not emptiness.
It symbolizes the storm of thoughts within me, all colliding at once, fighting to choose which deserves to speak first.
When I can’t decide, I embrace silence — deep, sacred silence.

I observe keenly. I analyze quietly. I feel everything that others might overlook.
Silence is beautiful and peaceful, but in my case, it’s dangerous — because behind it, there’s a conversation going on,
a constant dialogue between all the versions of me that dream, write, and exist in different worlds.

Whatever that dream was — vision, warning, or initiation — one thing is certain: it changed something within me.
The realms I traverse in sleep leave marks deeper than waking life

Mission accomplished, not elsewhere, but in the corridors of my own consciousness.

— From CH, Celestial Voyagers Division signing off for today

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