The Prison of Memory: On Releasing a Soul from Darkness

A Traveling Soul, created with Midjourney

July 23, 2023

The Dream

Air rushes across my soul’s body as I travel quickly from one space on the planet to another. It feels pleasant and is accompanied by a sense of deep knowing that I’m being pulled to the location where my soul is most needed at this time. Everything feels in alignment.

I feel a thread pulling me down and my soul body begins to penetrate through the rock and dirt and coolness of the Earth. This substance that I am easily morphs itself between the empty space within each atom of physical structure making up the foundation of this third-dimensional world. I continue to pass through the soil until I feel the slight resistance of concrete cinder blocks—a man-made substance that only requires a little more conscious effort to pass through. The substance of my soul body slows but continues to press forward until I spill out into the basement of a home.

The home is unrecognizable but there are individuals familiar to me here. They are not people that I have encountered in my conscious, waking life but, rather, are other souls that I have known beyond the time and space of my current human existence. We engage in a short reunion before I shift my awareness to our surroundings.

This place has been abandoned for some time, its dilapidated floors sagging down into the basement below, barely keeping it from collapsing. But the home isn’t nearly as important as the energy of the space which is dark and foreboding. Terrible things have happened here. The echoes of pain and suffering reverberate between the cinder block walls, dragging their threads of misery into a complicated web of energetic confinement. A feeling of sadness settles into my heart as I trace my soul fingers along the lines of what I am beginning to suspect is a prison.

Yes, yes it is indeed a prison! The complicated intersections of energetic memory have been woven with such distortion that, at first, I could not perceive the individual confined within its oppressing walls. There is another presence, another soul, tucked away beneath the folds and echoes of memories formed long ago.

A Prison of Memory, created with Midjourney

I glance up at the familiar group of individuals now standing around me. No words are said for we do not need sound to communicate. Instead, they indicate through thought-feeling, directly into my consciousness, that this moment is for me to experience and discover on my own, they are only here to witness and provide me with a sense of guided safety. With their assurance I know, without a doubt, that I am exactly where I need to be.

I turn back to the woven prison before me and begin to identify strands of memory that have become brittle across time. Gently, I move my soul hands across them and they crumble into dust at my touch. So many of these threads were ready to disintegrate… to be released back into the universe.

One-by-one I investigate the threads and dissolve those which no longer hold the prisoner. I fall into a rhythm, pulling a strand here, leaving a thread in place there, and begin to see that each thread holds a piece of this prisoner’s story. Each thread is a memory holding this soul captive here in this dark, abandoned basement.

The face of a young boy begins to peer out from the depths of this energetic prison. He had experienced a very, very difficult life with an early exposure to extreme narratives about sin, hell, and eternal damnation. These beliefs burrowed themselves into his mind as he fought for survival in a family that believed themselves to be sinners seeking eternal redemption. The boy also experienced physical and psychological harm at the hands of his family and spent much time locked away in the basement. I had no doubt that this boy had suffered much.

Over the years, each difficult memory or narrative that he held began to weave its warped truth into the recesses of his consciousness—the birthplace of his prison—until one day, when the boy was eight years old, his body lay broken on the floor of the basement and did not get up. Several years passed by before he began to move but by the time his consciousness once again awakened he could not perceive that he no longer resided within the vessel of a physical body. He was so ensnared in the prison of his memory that he could not even perceive death.

I continued to dissolve the threads around him, holding his story with reverence and compassion. It was not my business to know why this had happened or even if there was a purpose to it at all. I was simply here to help him move forward. I understood that now.

The layers began to fall away and as he became aware of the timbre of my energetic signature, he began to remember what lay beyond his prison.

Suddenly, a beautiful light shone out from the crisscrossed threads! Its golden hue painted a beautiful tapestry of interconnected lines upon the cinder blocks around us. Released from his prison of dark memories, the boy had remembered he was a soul. He had finally come home to himself.

Freedom of a Soul, created with Midjourney

Cutting through the rest of the threads was easy now and as I drove my soul hands through their fibers the remaining darkness snapped and collapsed, filling the air around us with settling dust, until finally the boy was free. He turned his shining face upon me and filled the room with the pure elation that only a young soul can possess. He had remembered and now he was free.

I beamed my own light back at him and communicated through the same thought-feeling concept the others had used that he was to move onward. He nodded in understanding, stood up to stretch, and then wrapped his energy around me and through me in a gesture of gratitude.

This “hug” was an exchange of energy between souls. Our atoms, or whatever substance we were, intermingled as I felt the boy exist within me and I within him. Upon our separation, I felt a small piece of me remain within his consciousness and knew that a piece of him remained within me. We would forever know each other, having crossed paths in this way, and could use the piece of the other to understand more about the universe around us across the eons of eternity.

The boy spread his light outwards, as if he had grown wings, and blasted upwards to wherever he was called next. As he left, the house began to crumble like the threads that had disintegrated to dust in my fingers just moments ago. Sunlight streamed into the basement and danced across the cinder blocks of its foundation. Everything was once again at peace.

I looked at the remaining souls around me, those individuals I knew without knowing, and understood that I had work to do outside of my living human experience. My consciousness was now able to process and experience and work on behalf of the universe both in my waking life and in the spaces I travelled to in my sleep. The souls around me celebrated this knowing of myself and indicated that I had everything I needed to move forward in my own way.

A tug pulled at the essence of my soul and, knowing that this quest was complete, I allowed my physical body to call my soul back. Once again I passed through the atoms of soil and dirt and rock before emerging into the rush of air that accompanied me back to the bed in which my body lay. I eased back into myself, opened my physical eyes, rolled over to turn on the light, and began to record my latest dreamtime experience.