I had a dream. A nightmare, really. But not the kind that haunts you – this one marked me. It didn’t just disturb me; it revealed something to me. And now, I feel to share it.
The Dream: The Venom and the Search for a Cure
I was at a spiritual retreat center, 1 hour drive from the main city. But something felt off. There were many people, scattered across the space, engaged in various activities. The atmosphere was lively yet unsettling, as if a hidden tension pulsed beneath the surface.
I had two bicycles, each in a different place. I was about to leave, so I was struggling to pull my bike out from where it was wedged. But as soon as I got it free, I remembered I had another bike at the other entrance. A wave of frustration hit me – how was I supposed to move forward while carrying both? Riding one while dragging the other felt impossible.
I moved through the retreat, weaving my way toward the pond in the garden – but in the dream, it was vast, much larger than in reality. Tall, wild grass, swayed under the golden sunlight. As I stepped closer to the water’s edge, something stirred.
From the grass on my left side, a snake lifted its head. Without hesitation, I grabbed it right under his head with my left hand and threw it toward the sun, flinging it high into the sky and far to the right. I watched it fly away, relieved, yet an unsettling thought crossed my mind—what if it bit me?
And it did.
I saw the two distinct fang marks on my left thumb. Was it venomous? I wondered. There was no way to know. At first, I felt nothing. But then, a tingling sensation crept up my thumb, a slow, insidious burn spreading through my fingers, my hand, and inching its way up my arm. Was this feeling due to pain or was it from the venom?
I still needed to leave, but the bite had changed everything. As I ran around gathering my things, I watched the wound evolve. The puncture site darkened into a small red circle, which then expanded, shifting into a perfect cross enclosed in a circle.
Then it hit me: I needed to stop. If this was venom, my movement was only making it spread faster. I had to act fast, but when I reached for my phone to call for help, it was missing. I must have misplaced it while dealing with the bicycles… No way to call an ambulance. No way to get help. My mind raced – who can help me?
I searched for someone I knew and found Herman. I asked to use his phone, but dialing the number wasn’t working. My hands were fumbling, the urgency rising. He tried calling for me, but there was a problem with his headset – a wired one, not wireless. When the ambulance finally answered, I was still wearing the headset, and as I walked away from Herman, the wire pulled out, disconnecting the call.
I rushed back, tried calling again, and this time, I got through. Only to hear:
“We don’t have emergency services here.”
It was then that I realized – I was in the countryside, things are different here. The man on the phone, calm and detached, an old voice, said they could offer me a cream instead.
A cream? For venom?
I could be dying, and all they could give me was a cream? The realization was suffocating—this place had no system for emergencies. If I wanted real help, I had to get back to the city. But how?
I started looking for a ride back to the city. As I moved through the retreat center, I passed through the garden and dining area, scanning for someone who could help. I heard Mathilda, the wise new friend, laughing in the distance and hesitated. She is only here for a festival. I didn’t want to burden her.
Then I found my newer Indian friends, Adrian and Maria. Adrian seemed willing to help, but then he said, “I have a schedule. I’m busy today and three days from now. Can we do tomorrow instead?”
Tomorrow?
Why were people acting like this wasn’t urgent? But I still didn’t tell them the truth – that I had been bitten, that it could be deadly. I simply kept searching, still hoping someone would drive me back.
At some point, I found a table with cabbage leaves. I absentmindedly took one and started chewing. Almost immediately, I began choking, coughing violently. Was this the venom reaching my throat? The realization hit – if I can’t swallow, if my throat is paralyzing, it is worse than I thought.
Then the choking intensified. I was suffocating.
And then – I woke up gasping for air.
My Interpretation of the Dream
I recognize many of the symbols in my dream and their deeper meanings.
Herman: The Reflection of a Pattern
Herman embodies the first disappointment I encountered on my spiritual journey. At first, I believed he was a close and trustworthy presence, but as my involvement shifted, his care faded. Over time, I recognized a recurring pattern – not just with him, but in many of my experiences along this path. Connections seemed to hold only as long as I aligned with a shared purpose. The moment my aspirations took a different direction or I started questioning the established course, I was no longer welcomed.
This realization was painful but illuminating: spirituality as a label does not guarantee depth or integrity. Human nature remains the same, shaped by personal interests and unspoken conditions, regardless of the ideals people claim to uphold.
At first, this kind of behavior deeply disillusioned me, but over time, it became one of my greatest teachers. It showed me exactly what I did not want to become as I continued on my own spiritual path. Instead of conditional belonging, I learned to value authenticity over conformity, depth over appearances, and true connection over transactional relationships.
The Snake: A Symbol of Transformation
Snakes have appeared in my dreams whenever a major internal shift was about to take place. Their presence has mostly signified deep transformation, but there has been a recurring theme: I was always swallowing them, unwillingly. They would crawl near my mouth and slide into my chest, each time growing in size. Over the years, they changed color – from black to green – evolving as I did.
This time, however, something was different.
This was the first snake that bit me.
It did not crawl inside me – I actively reached for it.
It was not as threatening as past ones.
This shift is significant. In past dreams, transformation was something that happened to me – I was forced to internalize it. But in this dream, I initiated the confrontation. I saw the snake in the grass and, instead of walking away, I grabbed it with my own hand. I could have chosen to leave it, but I didn’t.
This correlates strongly with a real-life experience that left a profound mark on me: the period I spent living at that retreat center. It was the most challenging chapter of my life—one I still find myself questioning. I didn’t make that choice out of alignment with my true self, but out of fear—fear of losing my long-term boyfriend at the time, who gave me an ultimatum: either we move there together, or our relationship would end.
For the first time, I regretted a major life decision, seeing it as my greatest mistake. It was also the only time I ever felt suicidal.
Though I have spent eight years integrating and processing this experience, this dream suggests that something still lingers.
Unresolved Threads: What Still Remains?
On the surface, I have long since forgiven, integrated, and moved forward.
And yet, this dream came now – eight years later. Why?
I still feel my health was strongly affected. I have not been able to fully restore my well-being since.
I have distanced myself from pursuing a couple relationship, no longer feeling drawn to compromise for the sake of closeness.
Something in me still holds self-blame. Even after all this time, the weight of that decision still sits somewhere within me.
Yet, alongside these lingering shadows, there is undeniable growth.
I have broken free from people-pleasing, honoring my own truth instead.
I have forged my own path, weaving my spiritual understanding into my personal evolution.
I now shape my relationships around mutual joy and a conscious choice to share life, rather than obligation or expectation.
More than ever, I feel deeply aligned with my destiny, embracing the journey as my own.I have emerged stronger, more independent, more rooted in my truth. So why now?
The Bite as a Mark of Transformation
The snake bit me, but instead of feeling fear, I observed the venom spreading. I watched the effects – tracing them up my arm, questioning whether it was real or imagined. Then, as the bite mark changed, it transformed into a cross enclosed in a circle.
This is not just a wound – it is an initiation.
The cross within the circle is a symbol of sacred transformation, an emblem of balance, destiny, and higher purpose. A mark not of suffering, but of passage. Not of crucifixion, but of completion.
It is as if this dream was a mark of acknowledgment – not a warning, not a regression, but a consecration.
This is the moment where my past ceases to be a wound and becomes an emblem of divine power instilled within. A reminder that God does not call for sacrifice, but for embodiment. That the path was never about enduring suffering, but about stepping into the fullness of the power He placed within me from the very beginning.
The Illusion of Seeking External Rescue
Throughout the dream, I was searching for help, trying to reach people who either weren’t available or weren’t willing to assist me.
I tried to call an ambulance, but there was no emergency service at a “spiritual retreat center”.
I turned to people I knew, but they were occupied or dismissive.
I even hesitated to disturb someone because I assumed they had better things to do.
This reflects something profound: there is no external savior.
The very place that promised spiritual salvation had no emergency response for my crisis.
The people who once surrounded me, the ones I had relied on, were no longer supportive of my healing.
This aligns with my real-life realization: the final phase of my healing cannot come from outside sources. No organization, no group, no person can give me what I am looking for.
What This Dream Taught Me About Power
Here’s your refined passage, now infused with the subtle yet profound challenge to the dominant symbol:
What This Dream Taught Me About Power
So why now, eight years later? Why did this dream emerge when I thought I had already healed?
Because this was not about healing – it was about stepping into my power.
The past is not a weight – it is a foundation.
The pain is not a wound – it is a rite of passage.
The bite is not an attack – it is a seal of transformation.
I no longer need to prove I have moved on. I have.
I no longer need to reconcile my past. It has been reconciled.
I no longer need to seek external healing. I hold my own antidote.
The question is no longer How do I escape the past? The question is, What will I do with the power of the bite?
Because I am no longer just the one who was hurt. I am the one who walked through the fire and emerged with something greater. And now, I must use it.
The bite was not an ending – it was a beginning.
And just as the serpent in the garden was cast as the villain of the story, maybe we have misunderstood the true meaning of the bite all along. Maybe what was framed as a curse was always an invitation – to awaken, to see beyond illusion, and to claim the divine power that has always lived within.
To You, Reading This
Have you ever faced something that shattered you, only to realize later that it was shaping you? Have you ever waited for someone to come and rescue you, only to discover that the only true rescue comes from within?
What is your bite of awakening? What has shaped you—not as a victim, but as a seeker, a pathfinder of your own truth?
Perhaps we have feared the bite for too long, believing it to be our downfall, when in truth, it has always been the moment of revelation. Maybe the stories we were given taught us to shrink when we were meant to expand, to fear the very initiation that would set us free.
If you are standing at the edge of transformation, remember this: You already have the antidote. You are the antidote.
And now, it is time to play.