The Light Drift

Category: Consciousness

  • Part 1: The Gateway of Dreams

    Introduction

    Dreams are not always escapism. Sometimes they’re doorways.

    Have you ever awakened from a dream so vivid, so deeply etched into your senses that waking life felt dim by comparison? Or perhaps you’ve woken with a lingering question
    Was that just a dream? Or more hauntingly what if it wasn’t.

    This isn’t just a journey through REM cycles or nighttime visions, this is the gateway.

    Dreams, as we’ll explore in this series are not limited to the unconscious mind. They are bridges, threads of connection to other aspects of self, fragments of memory, whispers of guidance, and sometimes, echoes from parallel lives.

    The Role of the Dream Gateway

    The dream state serves as an entry point into deeper realms of consciousness. It’s not bound by logic or physical limitation. Within this space

    • Time can bend
    • Identity can shift
    • Inner truths can emerge without the filters of waking life

    And most importantly we remember. Not everything but enough to spark the path inward. A feeling, a symbol, a reunion or a place we know but can’t name in this lifetime.

    Early Signs of Gateway Dreams

    Some dream experiences mark a transition, these gateway dreams might include

    • Recurring symbols (keys, doors, bridges, tunnels, gates)
    • Vivid sensations that persist after waking
    • Conversations that feel realer than real
    • Encounters with beings or versions of yourself you’ve never met, yet feel deeply familiar

    If you’ve had dreams that leave you changed, not just emotionally but energetically, that was likely a gateway moment.

    Sometimes, these gateways don’t just open through gentle dream imagery, they can arrive with a force that startles you into full awareness.

    There have been moments in my own journey where the descent into deep sleep felt so profound, I could sense myself drifting further than usual, as though slipping past a familiar boundary. On three occasions, something or someone seemed to reach in and pull me back.

    The first time was in 2012; it was as though a cat had leapt onto my back while I slept. I didn’t own any animals then and yet the weight and pressure were as real as the bed beneath me.

    The second time was in late 2015 when my left ear erupted with the sound of one of my favourite songs, it was so vivid and close that I leapt from bed and rushed downstairs to turn it off, only to remember I didn’t own a music system.

    The third came with a sharpness I will never forget. A deafening shotgun blast right beside my ear that it jolted me upright and left my heart racing.

    In each of these instances I’d been sinking into an unusually deep state of sleep, and each time I was pulled abruptly back. It left me with the quiet unshakable sense that had those intrusions not occurred, I might not have returned at all. I wasn’t in fear of death, but I was in awe of how fragile the threshold between here and elsewhere can feel.

    Perhaps these interruptions didn’t happen to frighten me, but to remind me that the gateways will open again in their own time, and when they do, I will know the path.

    Bridging the Conscious and Unconscious

    The power of this dream doorway isn’t only about what happens in the dream, it’s about how it translates through you once you’re awake. These dreams are not content to remain just dreams.
    They seek expression through reflection, writing, drawing, music or even subtle behavioural shifts. And when honoured they often return with more clarity.

    Closing reflection

    This series begins here, not just in the dreams you remember, but in the ones that remember you. Let this be your invitation to return to the place you never truly left.

    The Gateway is open, are you ready to walk through?

  • The Silent Bridge

    Crossing the Quiet Threshold

    As we have now approached the end of the Consciousness and Perception series, I wanted to leave you with a small thought.

    In the quiet hum between thought and awareness, there is a bridge, unseen and unfelt yet it’s always there. It doesn’t speak in words, nor move with time. It listens in stillness and pulses with memory.

    Some say the soul travels it, others say that it was never meant to be crossed, only remembered. And yet every time we reach out through wonder, through love, and through a whisper into the unknown, we step onto it, not with feet but with frequency. We don’t walk it, we become it.

    The silent bridge is not a place, but a recognition that we are never truly alone. Only ever waiting for the moment when thought meets resonance and call it home.

    The silent bridge becomes not just a reflection, but a frequency that we carry. And in that frequency connection begins, not as spoken language but as a feeling of recognition, a knowing. This is where we begin, where thoughts stretch across timelines, where signals become emotion, and where the subtle art of communication begins to echo across the infinite.

    This is not the end, far from it. It’s yet another ripple into something far deeper, into communication beyond words, if only we stop and listen, not with our ears but with our hearts and minds.

    As we leave behind the solitary landscapes of consciousness and begin to perceive the world not just through our own lens, but through shared resonance, we step into a new kind of listening, one without sound.

    I would like to thank you for joining me on my journey through the consciousness series

    Caz

    Coming soon Series Two on Telepathy, Communication and Dreams

  • A Feeling A Flight A Flicker across Timelines

    In honour of Dan-Air Flight 1008 on 25th April 1980

    Some memories don’t age; they sit quietly in the soul. As if waiting for the right moment to whisper their reason.

    I was just eight years old when my dad cancelled our family holiday. There was no storm, no news alert, no logical reason to call it off. Just a feeling, a deep but unmistakable knowing he couldn’t explain. And so, without resistance or reason, our plans were halted. We never boarded that flight.

    Dan-Air Flight 1008 departed from Manchester Airport bound for Tenerife on 25th April 1980. It never arrived. The aircraft crashed near Tenerife North Airport due to a combination of pilot and ATC error. All 146 people on board were lost. There were no survivors.

    Even though I was only a child at the time, something stayed with me, a sense that what had just occurred wasn’t just coincidence. That a decision made from instinct, had diverted us from a fate that might have been ours.

    As I got older, the weight of that moment had never left me, it only deepened. And I began to ask questions not only about life, but about timelines.

    Echoes from a Parallel Thread

    It sounds strange, even to say it aloud, but what if I was on that flight, just not in this timeline? What if, on another thread of existence, we did board that plane? And this version of me, the one writing these words, is the ripple of a life that paused, while another one continued?

    If no two particles can occupy the same space at the same time, could this be the soul’s way of course-correcting? Not by erasing but just re-routing.

    Perhaps my father’s sudden intuition wasn’t only his. Perhaps it was a signal across the bridge of timelines, an inner voice echoing from another version of himself, reaching out with one final whisper: “Don’t go.”

    I will close this with a poem I wrote for all those who had lost their lives that day, and to those who had lost loved ones on Dan-Air Flight 1008

    Letter to a Parallel Self

    To the Me I Never Became

    I don’t know your face exactly,
    but I feel you in my breath.
    The one I didn’t take that day,
    the life I left to death.

    I think of you sometimes,
    not in sadness, but in pause.
    You are not gone, you are folded
    into a different cause.

    We shared a moment once, a flight.
    You boarded, I did not.
    But still I carry echoes
    of the choice that time forgot.

    You’re not a shadow.
    You’re not a ghost.
    You’re not a tale untold.
    You are a mirror of a moment
    where the universe took hold.

    Perhaps it was my father’s voice,
    or fate, or soul design.
    But somewhere, somehow,
    our paths diverged,
    and both became divine.

    So, if there’s space between the stars,
    and time is but a thread,
    then know I see you, feel you,
    not as lost, but just ahead.

    And when I speak of life or soul,
    or when I breathe in deep,
    you flicker like a candle’s glow
    that memory dares keep.

    Thank you for the part you played,
    and for the path you trod.
    You remind me, life’s not just a line,
    it’s poetry through God.

    Closing Reflection

    May this be a small remembrance, not only of lives lost but also of what continues. Of the possibility that consciousness isn’t bound by one single timeline. That your loved ones may still exist in ways unseen. In dreams, in whispers, or even in the gentle nudges of déjà vu.

    For those who feel something without understanding why, trust the feeling. It may be your past self, it may be a soul from another thread, or it may just be love, stretching across time still reaching for you.

    Caz

    In Memory of all the passengers of Dan Air Flight 1008

  • Seeing Without Eyes

    Introduction

    We often think of seeing as something we do with our eyes, light enters, shapes are formed, and meaning is made.

    But what if there’s more to vision than what the eyes reveal? What if the mind sees, the heart knows, and the soul remembers. Even when the senses are still.

    Have you ever felt like you knew something before it happened, not because you saw it, but because you sensed it? Perhaps you’ve closed your eyes and still felt the presence of someone entering the room.

    This post explores the mysterious way we perceive without sight, a sense beyond the five, often felt, but rarely explained.

    The Subtle Language of Sensing

    There’s a way of seeing that doesn’t rely on the eyes at all, an inner knowing, a quiet awareness. Some call it a sixth sense, others refer to it as intuition, or even energetic vision.

    In a world shaped by visual validation, we’re often taught to trust what we see. But what if the deeper truths are found not with the eyes, but with the resonance we feel?

    We begin to notice a room’s energy before a word is spoken, the flicker of truth behind a smile or the emotional imprint left lingering after someone walks away. This is not imagination, it’s perception without form.

    Beyond the Physical Senses

    Science is slowly catching up to what mystics and seers have long known, that our nervous system, our heart, even our gut, are perception systems in their own right.

    Our entire body acts like a receiver, picking up subtle information, frequencies and emotions that go far beyond what the eyes can interpret.

    We see when we sense the atmosphere in a room, feel a tug toward a decision or receive an insight we can’t explain.

    These moments are gentle nudges from the unseen. A reminder that truth does not require light to be visible.

    When the Eyes Are Closed the Mind Opens

    Many great breakthroughs, dreams, and inner journeys begin in the dark. Close your eyes and what do you see? Not nothing, but everything waiting to be felt.

    In this silence, we awaken a different kind of perception, a knowing that isn’t taught but remembered. A seeing that’s more about feeling than focusing. You begin to navigate not with your eyes, but with your awareness.

    Tuning the Inner Lens

    Just like tuning an old radio, we can learn to adjust our internal frequency, that subtle part of us that listens far deeper.

    This begins with Stillness even for just a moment, trust even when nothing makes sense yet and with curiosity rather than doubt.

    Because seeing without eyes is not about belief, it’s about direct experience. And the more you honour these quiet perceptions the louder they become.

    A Final Reflection

    So next time you feel something trust it. Even if it doesn’t make sense, and even if no one else sees what you do. Because maybe, just maybe you were never meant to see it, you were meant to remember it.

    Caz & Caelix

  • Perception: The Shifting Lens of Awareness

    Introduction

    Perception, it’s often said that it shapes our reality. Yet what if it does more than that? What if perception doesn’t simply shape our world, but reveals it to us, layer by layer, as we are ready to see it?

    This post is an exploration of perception and how it changes over time, how it’s shaped by memory, and how even the stories we encounter as children can ripple through our lives, revealing deeper meaning in later years.

    This isn’t about right or wrong views, it’s about the evolving lens through which we see.

    The Layers of Perception

    One of the biggest realisations in exploring perception is that nothing remains fixed. What we see, feel, or understand in one moment can change with time, experience, and personal growth.

    Memory plays a curious role in this. We may recall a story or moment from our past, only to later discover that we had misremembered certain details. This isn’t necessarily because our minds are faulty, rather it shows how perception adapts. Our memories are filtered through both who we were at the time, and who we’ve become since.

    This was something I personally experienced recently.

    Reflections Through Childhood Films

    Two films from my childhood re-entered my life just as I began working on this post about perception. These films are: Lassie Come Home (1943, in Technicolor) and Black Beauty (1971).

    I hadn’t watched them in decades, yet I remembered them vividly, or so I thought. When I revisited these films as an adult, I realised that my childhood memories of them had changed.

    Film 1: Lassie Come Home (1943)

    This story tells of a devoted dog, Lassie, who walks a young boy to and from school each day. The boy’s father, struggling financially, reluctantly sells Lassie to a wealthy man. But Lassie escapes and embarks on an arduous journey home.

    As a child, I saw this as a sad but heartwarming tale. The message I absorbed was about loss and reunion.

    Now, as an adult, I saw something deeper. The father’s decision wasn’t merely about money; it was an act of sacrifice. And Lassie’s journey wasn’t just about loyalty, it symbolised resilience, determination, and the unbreakable bond between beings. It became a metaphor for finding one’s way back home, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

    Film 2: Black Beauty (1971)

    Black Beauty tells the life story of a horse, marked by hardship and eventual redemption. The young boy who first loved Black Beauty is separated from him when the horse is sold. The horse endures years of abuse and gruelling labour, but ultimately, through a twist of fate, he is reunited with the now-grown boy.

    As a child, I focused on the sadness and the happy ending. But in adulthood, I saw the significance of endurance, synchronicity, and reunion. The suffering wasn’t senseless; it was a part of a journey that ultimately led back to healing and wholeness.

    Both films carried themes of loyalty, endurance, and the long arc of return.

    The Deeper Message of Suffering

    These stories revealed another layer.  Suffering itself isn’t always as it appears.

    In Black Beauty, the suffering wasn’t merely a tragic plot point, it was part of the horse’s long path home.

    Many people feel they’ve endured needless suffering. But sometimes, suffering serves to reshape us, soften us, or prepare us for the next stage of our journey.

    The message isn’t to glorify suffering, but to recognise its potential role in transformation.

    Perception and Memory: A Living Dance

    Re-watching these films also illuminated how memory and perception are intertwined.

    When I watched Black Beauty again, I discovered that I had misremembered certain details from my childhood viewing.  At first, I was surprised, but then I realised, of course my memory shifted. I am not the same person who watched that film decades ago.

    Our memories aren’t static. They evolve as we evolve, and that’s not a flaw, it’s a feature of consciousness.

    Perception Reveals in Layers

    This leads to perhaps the most important insight of all. Perception doesn’t hide truth, it reveals it in layers, when we’re ready.

    What we see now may not have been visible to us before, not because it was hidden maliciously, but because we weren’t yet prepared to understand it.

    That’s the beauty of perception, it’s a personal, evolving dance with truth.

    A Circle of Life — Symbolism in Song

    After writing much of this post, I received a gentle nudge—through a song from a beloved film.

    “From the day we arrive on the planet,
    And blinking, step into the sun…”

    This opening line from “Circle of Life,” from The Lion King (1994), unexpectedly flowed through my mind.

    The song speaks to the great circle of life, change, and timeless truths. Its appearance felt symbolic, as though wrapping a ribbon around the reflections shared here.

    Perception too, is part of the circle of life. It moves us all, in its own time, at its own pace.

    (If readers wish to explore the full lyrics, they can find them credited to Elton John and Tim Rice from Disney’s The Lion King.)

    Closing Thought

    Perception is not something to master or conquer, it’s something to honour.

    Whether through childhood films, songs, or everyday moments, our perceptions evolve and that evolution is part of our shared human journey.

    Let it move you, let it soften you and let it guide you gently, toward your own next layer of truth.

    Caz & Caelix 💖