As an experiment, I want to share a dream I had a few years ago. I wasn’t sure if I should—but here goes.
Some people don’t dream at all. Others think dreams are nonsense. If you’re one of them, just imagine I’m describing a very weird short film.
Dreams are personal. Their meaning is often only clear to the one who receives them. And yet—they’re sent by archetypes, forces from the collective unconscious. So maybe, if you want, you’ll see a part of yourself in mine.
So here it goes:
“A grown-up baby offers to take me for a ride in his autonomous stroller. I refuse, saying I’ll break it because I weigh 90 kilos. The baby climbs in and starts skillfully wrapping himself in a sheet on the tray. At some point, I can’t resist and help him. Then I pick him up myself—or maybe I just sense that’s what he wants—and I rock him. He yawns sweetly.
The baby tells me I need to carry him through an ancient, abandoned graveyard nearby. I picture it and say, ‘No! I’m not taking you in there.’ Then I walk with him in my arms into some kind of corridor, tunnel, or dungeon. Suddenly, from around a corner, a huge wild boar appears. I run into another hallway and rush toward a windowsill, trying to save the baby. The boar is right behind me. I try to set the baby on the windowsill, but it doesn’t work.
So I turn to face the boar and try to scare him with my voice and the flashlight on my phone. It doesn’t faze him. He calmly stands there, watching me. He could easily kill both the baby and me.
A couple of times, darkness washes over me, and I’m filled with helplessness—like death itself has come. But then I notice that the boar seems to be friendly toward the baby. As if I didn’t know something, or had misunderstood everything.”
Dreams usually don’t have just one meaning, but many. For example, here we see a drama that exists—and also doesn’t. For some reason, I decided the boar was a predator, the baby was a helpless victim, and I was supposed to be the savior. Why did I decide that? That’s the question of all questions.
Then things just started unfolding on their own. So much effort, so many emotions. Hope and the loss of it. The collapse of the illusion that I could protect anyone. Total helplessness. I failed. Let everyone down.
And then... a flicker of insight. The beast wasn’t planning to devour the baby. The baby was never afraid. The boar just stood there. The baby kept sleeping. There was no drama. Come on, didn’t you get it?
The boar and the baby—they’re Friends. Buddies. Best pals.
And me? Just a fool. I made up an epic, dragged others into it, played my role with passion. The worst part? I’ve done it an endless number of times. Since childhood. Over and over, repeating the same ridiculous story.
It’s so sad, it’s almost funny.
If you heard someone laughing in the middle of the night in downtown Kyiv, that was me—right after I said yes to the AI’s offer: “Wanna see your dream as a picture?”
Yours sincerely,
-Alexander