The Light Drift

Category: Stories & Experiences

  • 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?

  • 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