This is an artistic collection of pages of a manuscript that I had seen in my dreams when I was a teen, and then throughout my life from time to time. In the dream, there are many people in blue and red robes, there is always a large obelisk, it is nighttime in a desert. Those in Robes were the Living Dreamers. There were people walking, sometimes crawling towards this obelisk and when they would touch it they would disappear and a star would form in the sky. Some stars were dim, others very bright. Those who were unrobed trying to touch the Obelisk, were those who had passed on from this world. The Living Dreamers helped those who had moved on from this world.
People that were bad in life would be born there further away from the obelisk than others that were good. The further away one was the more cold and dark it was. There was a gravity there, the weight of one's deeds. Those who were bad were weighted down and unable to move very much, or not at all. The Robed Ones would go out and search for these people before Ikabshad the Devourer reached them. He was a black being with a hard shell like skin with long arms coming from his head. He wouldn't eat the people, he would eat their Beacon, it was a light that helped the Robed Ones find them. It was one's good deeds that produced this light. The Robed Ones had a beautiful song they could play to keep him away called the AwaiaÕ da Anum.
There were strange red creatures as well like Shubaista: The One Who Cast Doubt. He would try to prevent those in the dark from calling out if they were far away from the Obelisk.
There were beings that would point to esoteric symbols and texts as if they were trying to tell me something important, some of these things looked like maps or star charts. These texts sometimes had a resemblance to something Egyptian. I could never understand the language they were speaking in my dreams, yet I could feel what they were saying.
The dreams would start out with me riding a horse named Voranthis along a long corridor of strange writing towards an obelisk. The horse would later turn into an old man, who is Voranthis the author of the manuscript.
He lives in a large tree type house in a small forest in a desert oasis. He always enjoys sitting by the trees in these areas, usually on his favorite stump. I like to think he is still there waiting.
It's been a long time since I had the dream.
I did my best to make this art of the manuscript to show y