This is the first journal entry of my weird dreams - the bizarre visions and surreal scenes I experience that most people would probably find completely unreal. Here goes:

One night, as I fell asleep, I was taken to a strange place that looked straight out of antiquity - specifically, the city of Pompeii before its destruction. In this dream, I was a 10-year-old boy, celebrating my birthday with my mother and younger brother. It felt joyful and innocent at first, like a warm family memory. But then the dream twisted.

Through an open window, I saw a mountain - massive and ominous - begin to erupt, spewing toxic fumes and fiery debris. It was a volcanic eruption of apocalyptic proportions. Chaos spread through the streets. People were panicking, fleeing from the monstrous fury of the eruption, and I stood there, frozen, staring at the mountain as it vomited bundles of hot rock and lava.

One blazing rock came straight toward me.

And then - darkness.

That was it. But the dream left its mark. It's stuck with me ever since, like a scar burned into my mind. I couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something, so out of curiosity, I started digging.

Turns out, Romans did celebrate birthdays. They had traditions that included animal sacrifices to household gods, feasting, and gift-giving. And now that I think about it? there was a goat in the room with us in the dream. Weird, right?

Then I took a dive into Buddhist beliefs - specifically Tibetan Buddhism. They believe that dreams can be more than just random images; they can reveal past lives or even hint at future ones. That dream felt way too detailed to be meaningless. Maybe it was a glimpse into something deeper, older? maybe even a past life.

Here's the thing - I've always had a fascination with Roman mythology. There's a raw, dramatic elegance to their pantheon and their stories. And I'll be honest: Julius Caesar by Shakespeare is one of my all-time favorite plays. The themes of betrayal, fate, and public spectacle still feel eerily relevant today.

That said, I don't admire ancient Rome because of some bizarre right-wing nostalgia for empire or authoritarianism. That's not what this is. I'm fully aware that ancient Rome - and Pompeii in particular - weren't exactly pleasant places to live. They were unsanitary by modern standards, with disease-ridden bathhouses, streets often lined with waste, and an almost absurd number of brothels. Pompeii was filled with erotic art and crude graffiti that today might be seen as somewhere between anthropological insight and ancient toilet humor.

My fascination isn't about glorifying empire or ignoring the gritty parts of history. It's about the strange intersection of myth and reality - the beauty and the grime, side by side. That's what makes it so human.

So maybe, just maybe, this dream was more than a fluke. Maybe I walked - if only briefly - in the sandals of someone who lived in Pompeii just before it was swallowed by ash.

Either way? it left a mark I won't forget.