Entry from the Journal of a Dream Walker: The Revelation

I wasn’t sure I wanted to ever share this with anyone. Most of what I’ve seen belongs to a world that slips away the moment the sun rises. But this... this has stayed with me. And I think it always will. So I write now, not to remember, but to understand.

It happened on a night like any other. I had just entered the dream world. There was no mission waiting. No call to banish anything. I was alone, standing in a space I hadn’t yet shaped. A blank canvas, still dark and mist-choked. The kind of place that feels like the edge of something vast and unfinished.

That’s when I felt her.

Not saw. Not heard. Felt. A presence I knew, as familiar as any coworker. We’d fought side by side on occasion. She was always calm. Clear-eyed. Competent. One of the few you could rely on in a nightmare. But as soon as I turned to face her, I knew something was wrong.

Her appearance was disheveled, like someone who had wandered too far for too long. Clothes torn, hair wild, eyes too wide. There was a crackling energy around her—not magical, but mental. As if her thoughts were trying to escape faster than her mouth could keep up.

"They won't let me say it," she said, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "They know. They know I know and they’re coming. I have to tell you before they stop me."

I raised a hand. "Calm down. Just breathe. What are you talking about? Who's coming?"

She laughed. Then whispered. Then screamed. Her voice modulated wildly—laughter turning to sobs, then back to panic.

"It's not what we think!" she gasped. "None of it! Not demons, not angels—not us! We’re not what we think we are."

I tried to steady her. I reached out, gently. "What did you find? Tell me. One thing at a time."

She looked at me, pupils dilated, lip trembling. She lowered her voice to a whisper so soft it barely brushed the air. "I found out why we exist. Humans."

The mist around us thickened, as if the dream itself was listening.

"They kept it from us," she hissed. "The angels. They guard the truth. They bury it. Because if we knew, if any of us knew..."

She looked over her shoulder. There was nothing there. Still, she trembled like something was watching. "I thought it was beautiful at first. But it’s not. It’s not. It’s horrible."

And then she said the word.

Just one word.

I will not write it here. I cannot. To speak it, to read it, to even hear it... is to begin unraveling. That is what happened to her. And what almost happened to me.

The moment she said it, I understood. I felt it. The weight of truth crashing down on a mind not built to carry it. My vision blurred. My knees gave way. My heart raced with an emotion I couldn’t name. Fear, yes. But something deeper. A kind of existential vertigo.

She repeated it again and again, louder each time. And then she began to scream.

Not words. Just sound. Fury and terror and broken laughter all twisted together. And then she ran. Disappeared into the mist like a shadow losing shape.

And I was thrown out. Forced awake, gasping in my bed, soaked in sweat.

I remembered everything. That was unusual. Normally, waking erases the dream world like chalk in rain. But not this time. This time it stayed.

I tried to go back. Not to find her—I knew she was lost. But to find the angels.

They met me only once.

"You are no longer one of us," they said.

I asked why. I begged. They gave no answer.

Cold. Silent. Gone.

I was angry. I was confused. For years I carried that weight—this secret that I hadn’t even asked for. In the waking world, things became difficult. I could function, even thrive on the surface, but everything drained me. Even the simplest tasks felt like lifting mountains.

Eventually I left it all behind. Moved to the country. Found a quiet place far from crowds, from noise. From questions.

And that’s where I began to heal.

Over time, I understood. I hadn’t been punished. I had been protected. Removed from the fight not out of anger—but out of mercy. The angels had saved what was left of me in the only way they could.

Sometimes, they let me back. Briefly. But never for long. I’m not what I once was. I can’t be.

And now, I write this.

Not as a warning. Not exactly.

But you should know this: the world you know isn’t all there is. There are other truths. Other realities. Other meanings.

But be careful what you seek.

Some answers do not liberate.

Some answers only destroy.