An analysis of a dream

. 3 min read

I looked out of the window and saw and recognized St. Peter's Basilica down in the valley among humble and ordinary houses. I thought of Dan Brown and the Robert Langdon movies and asked a man that was exiting the room which city this was. He said, "Caracas." I didn't know if his answer was logical. Only after I woke up could I check that Caracas is the capital of Venezuela.

I know this is just a dream and I guess you're probably not interested in hearing about my dreams but this was simply too deep to keep to myself. And mind you, I recommend you analyze your dreams as well. If not to a trusted friend, then on paper.

A few things to notice about my dream.

  1. I was inside a house, and the window showed a view downhill.
  2. The basilica was located in a valley, unlike in real life.
  3. The man in the room insisted we know each other, even though I didn't recognize him.
  4. He said the city was Caracas, even though St. Peter's Basilica is located in the Vatican.
  5. Venezuela is the country where the horrors of Atlas Shrugged were actualized a couple of years ago.

The Vatican and the basilica are religious places. The Catholic Church (and Christianity in general) hold Jesus in high respect. Jesus is the ultimate good, the ideal to which all man aspire. Not to mention that religion itself is somewhat about integrity, values, morals, ethics, and living a good life, in the fear of God. But from where I was looking at the basilica, it was below me; as if I was an √úbermensch the way Nietzsche put it, a person who creates his own moral codes and who holds himself instead of God in the highest regard. But I was also in a strange house, accompanied by a strange person; it was as if I was held prisoner.

Was the other person a friend or a foe? Was he my capturer, or perhaps another captive? He said his name was John. There's John the Apostle in the Bible - I checked - the only apostle not to be martyred but to survive into old age. So I suppose he was a friend, and I was staying in his house as a guest.

However, here's where it gets interesting. He said we were in Caracas. There's no basilica in Caracas in real life. From my Randish point of view, Caracas is the worst place on Earth - the capital of a communist country where the state can take private ownership away from citizens at will. So there are two options: John the Apostle was lying and we were really in the Vatican (not logical since the basilica was in a valley), or we really were in Caracas, and the evil in the place was trying to swallow the holiness of the basilica into the ground (as it was in a valley).

Of course, we're going with the latter.

So, to simplify, I was in hell, and hell was trying to rid the world of all things of ideal, principle, value, and integrity. Things that I hold dear. But I was uphill from the sight. I was with John the Apostle. I could save the basilica from where I was. I didn't have to let the ideal die and become a whining martyr (in the modern sense). John would help me see the way to save everything and live long with the salvaged integrity.

What's more, I think I should accept the probability that I had come to Caracas voluntarily, and so dragged the basilica with me. So I had a responsibility to also get it out of there - and it was still possible since I still had the √úbermenschian higher ground.

Give me a rock and a long enough lever and I'll swing the basilica back to the Vatican.

RK