Back to Work

And then I died.

I watched as the old Japanese man got on the bus. A grey and old double decker. I thought I was his son, but then I became the old man, despite the warnings walking towards the front of the bus. I knew there was a bomb. And yet, I persisted. Then, time seemed to slow down, even became infinite. I knew this was the moment. My heart raced, fear took over my mind. But there was no way out. The metal walls of the bus seemed to bend, crushing me and expanding at the same time. The blow was imminent. What was I supposed to think about? Did I live a good life?

Have I been a good father to my son? A good partner to my wife?

I was panicking... this was it. I'm not sure if I was ready for it. But it happened anyway. And I stepped into the tunnel. It was dark and, then lights flashed somewhere in the distance. I went towards the lights finding out it was a bunch of boys, on a massive pile of metal junk, wood, all kinds of materials, constructing something.

So I got a hammer too, talked to the boys and got to work. Hammering nails in, building something from all this apparent junk.

Before this dream I’ve had a quarrel with my friend Peter, my strength, my stone, because I’ve let go of my old personality, and I would not tolerate any disrespect anymore. I would not shame myself anymore for making mistakes, for learning, for getting lost on the way. I would not tolerate others to treat me that way either. No more.

Interpretation

This is the ultimate experience of Mors Philosophica (the philosophical death) that marks the true completion of the Alchemical Great Work. The bus represents your ancestral and collective destiny—a vessel driven by an old "Japanese man" (an archetype of patriarchy and ancient, foreign authority) that is destined to blow up. By stepping to the front and becoming the old man, you consciously choose to inherit and dissolve this karma yourself.

The explosion is the terrifying but necessary shattering of the ego. In the infinite contraction of that final second, your mind does not panic about achievements, titles, or spiritual states. It panics about the only things that are real: Have I been a good father? Have I been a good partner? These are the ultimate, stripped-back values of the mature Self.

The tunnel of death does not lead to a static heaven or a void, but to a vast, cosmic construction site. The "apparent junk" made of metal, wood, and debris is the accumulated rubble of your past—your mistakes, your childhood trauma, your parent's pain, and your broken dreams. The "boys" building with this junk represent the rejuvenated, creative aspects of your psyche.

To take up the hammer and get to work with them is the ultimate realization of the Alchemist: Gold is made of mud. You are no longer trying to escape the material world or fly to the Sun; you are actively down on your knees, remodeling your life out of the very wreckage of your past.

Your waking waking-quarrel with Peter (the Stone/Rock of your old, rigid boundaries) confirms this. By letting go of your old personality, you have stopped seeking external validation. You no longer expect perfection from yourself, nor do you tolerate those who weaponize your mistakes against you. You have traded your artificial, robotic spine of defense for a living, breathing spine of absolute self-respect. The war is over, the old man has died, and the true builder has finally picked up his hammer.