The Earth is Speaking—And It’s Screaming
The dreams keep coming. The ground shatters, mountains collapse into dust, and the sky glows red with the fire of an ancient reckoning. I see the lava spilling onto the streets like veins bursting open, consuming everything in its path—cars, buildings, lives. I hear the screams, but they are distant, almost drowned out by the earth's own fury. Cities don’t just burn; they vanish. Like they were never there.
And the animals—they know. They always know before we do. I see them running, left behind, their eyes wide with a knowing terror that humans refuse to acknowledge. They sense it. They always sense it. But we? We drown in our own illusions, convinced that everything is fine.
It’s not.
This wasn’t just another dream. This was something else—something pressing, something reaching beyond the veil of sleep and grabbing me by the throat. I felt it in my bones when I woke up. Something is shifting. Something massive. The kind of shift that doesn’t politely knock before it enters. The kind that tears through reality and reshapes everything we thought we understood.
I don’t need anyone to tell me that this was just my mind playing tricks on me. This was a message. A warning.
And I feel it. I feel it so damn strong.
Something is coming.