Dream Encounter by the Frozen Pond

Dream Encounter by the Frozen Pond

There are dreams that linger like mist, soft but certain, humming with meaning. This one arrived on the edge of waking, guided by a presence both familiar and unexpected. I share it here as a record of the thaw… a quiet turning inward toward the waters I once set aside for safekeeping.

🌙In the early morning dreamscape, a familiar presence stepped forward wearing a navy sweatsuit, a toboggan, and well-worn hiking boots. Osho appeared not as a distant master, but as a grounded companion, telepathic, steady, and quietly amused. He guided me toward a small pond sealed beneath a sheet of winter glass. The ice crackled under their feet, not in threat, but in acknowledgement: the thaw had begun.

At the center of the frozen water sat a towering pile of barrels, each filled with a profound, waiting clarity. They were reservoirs of my own stored light, kept cold until I was ready to claim them. Osho asked for my help retrieving them, and though the cracking ice made me step back, he did not judge. He simply moved to the picnic table beside the pond, settling in as though this moment had been arranged long before.

There, he invited me to open one of the barrels. The pour spout sat impossibly at the bottom, with no valve, no mechanism to control the flow. Logic said the water should spill everywhere. Fear expected an overflow. But his encouragement came through the quiet channel of mind and presence: trust.

I opened the cap.

Nothing poured out.
Not a drop spilled.
The water remained perfectly still until I lifted the barrel to my lips. Only then did the liquid release itself, offering its wisdom directly, intimately, in response to my willingness to receive.

The dream became a teaching:

The frozen pond is my deep reservoir, preserved until timing was true.
The cracking ice is the sound of readiness returning.
The barrels are the sacred waters I hid for safekeeping.
The impossible valve is the reminder that nothing meant for me will leak or be wasted.
The pour that only happens at my mouth is the understanding that my medicine flows only in communion, never in force.

My guides whispered:

“You do not have to carry all the barrels. You do not need to warm the pond. You only need to touch your lips to what is finally ready to flow.”

This dream is a sign of entry,
a threshold in the thaw,
a reclamation of inner waters,
a soft and holy return.

🌙What waters have you been storing in the cold center of your being?
What clarity waits for your gentle sip?
There is no need to force a flood.
Only trust the mouthful meant for today.

~ Dreamed by DeAn’Na