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  I believe every person can remember at least one dream in their life that was so profound and powerful to them that they will remember it always.  
  For you maybe it was the vision of someone you love who had died?, or maybe it was a vision of people you love and some terrible event?, or possibly a dream of some wonderful moment?  
  Science tells us that even though these dreams appear to us to be so real and powerful is because of the imaginary capability of our mind. Our mind we are told is a product of our brain. So I guess any of the dreams we both have experienced can in one sense be put down to an active imagination.  
  In my life I can recall seven (7) dreams, visions, whatever you want to call them which have stayed with me. These seven dreams were so powerful as to cause me to reconsider my destiny in life and my path on the journey. I have recalled these as best I can below in chronological order.  
  The fear of recognizing many of the seven dreams  
  You may ask what is the point of knowing about the dreams of this fellow called Frank O'Collins? Who cares? Who does he think he is? In that sense you may well be right. What value are the seven most powerful dreams I have experienced have anything to do with anything important? Except this website and the UCADIAN model.  
  I know I have faced the very darkest of evil. It is represented in many of these dreams. The concepts of separation, of wanting to be more, of wanting to be greater than others.  
  They have haunted me, they have propelled me. So twisted are some of the dreams and so contradictory to the whole principles of this web site that I seriously considered never speaking about them. But to do that would be to not bring them out and name them for what they are. The evil that would continue long traditions of human beings setting themselves above others. The unending chain of people who seek to write themselves into history as something more than being human.  
  I am a human being. These are my dreams. I name them and set myself free from them.  
  1. Conversations with God  
  One of my earliest recollections was at the age of 2. It was a sense of the old high ceiling room in which I lived in a Terrace House in Gipps St, East Melbourne. An area once known as Emerald Hill.  
  It was a sense that I was not alone. While my eyes could not see a person, I could feel the presence of people. Maybe the memories of those that had lived for a hundred years before in this old house? Maybe the light and the movement of shadows?  
  At aged five or six when our family moved to Sir William St in Kew I distinctly felt these shadows had been left behind. I felt a safety and happiness and I began to have these incredible day dreams. I would talk to God. Not just prayer, actual conversations. It wasn't that I imagined a figure in front of me, it was more I would ask the biggest questions I could ask and he would answer me.  
  At first I did not believe it. I was old enough not to believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, I was old enough to know you don't have two way conversations with God. But I really did feel I had two way conversations. I never told anyone for fear that they would think I was mad.  
  By the time I was seven or eight at night, before I went to sleep, I would sometimes feel this gut wrenching nausea, like my whole body was being twisted like a wet towel. It was so awful that for a time, I actually hated going to bed. I was taken to a number of doctors, my ears were tested and there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. To this day, I cannot fully recall any of the dreams I had during these weeks and weeks of nausea except for the presence of faceless, sometimes hooded people.  
  Occasionally the conversation would be with God through another person. Living nearby at the time was the Archbishop of Melbourne, Frank Little. He was known as a good and kind man and regularly strolled past our house on an early morning walk to say his prayers. Many occasions we would talk as he continued his stride and I struggled to keep up. We would talk about life and the universe and the meaning of religion and he would answer me as truthfully as he could.  
  Other times complete strangers would stop me and start speaking to me the answer to a conversation I thought I was having in my mind with God. Sometimes these people were drunks and homeless, so later I made it easy to dismiss what they said. "Never turn your back on the world" a mad looking man with white hair once said to me staring at me with deep piercing blue eyes.It was real and when I was sitting on a full tram in Melbourne and this man was at the opposite end. He was the most frightening man I have ever seen in my life. Like the old man from the Poltergeist movies. Later I rationalized it as an insane person, shouting madness that sounds profane. Only recently did I recall the conversation I thought I had been having with God. It was "God what do you want me to do with my life?"  
  2. The collapse of St Peters Church  
  By the age of 12, the conversations with God had stopped. By the age of sixteen I was angry with God. God to me then was like a giant smiley face put up to make you feel happy when really its only an imaginary brand.  
  So much hatred and war. So many lies. I hated myself. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to be liked by the people who were the "cool" crowd, the "in"crowd. Whereas I felt I was on the outer.  
  When others would talk about a football match, I'd turn to world politics. When girls and boys swapped music and sports stories, I'd talk about ideas. I felt alone.
By this time our family was living in Grange Rd Kew.		  
  One night, I had this vision. I was standing in front of two massive doors. At first, I did not know where I was. In front of me the doors were adorned with the most intricate and fine gold images of battles and conquests, of saints and martyrs. It was as if the whole history of the western world was immortalised in great gold panels across these huge doors. For what seemed an age I stood gazing upon the splendor and detailed scenes of these doors at which point I thought "wow these must be worth a fortune".  
  With that thought, the great doors swung open and I then knew I was standing at the doors to St Peters in Rome, although in real life St Peters doesn't have doors like these. I looked around for any other sign of a person, but found none, so I entered through the great doors.  
  As I walked into the Church, the thought that no one else was around intrigued me, you would kind of expect someone around. Just as that thought had appeared in my head I could see in front of me in the distance at the central Altar of St Peter's a man dressed like the Pope. He was standing with his hands over the altar and his head down.  
  I did not immediately recognize him as The Pope, because this man was much shorter and rounder than Pope Paul VI.  
  Being a true believer at the time in the Roman Catholic faith I immediately took pity on him for whatever was troubling his mind and started to walk closer to him. As I approached close enough so that we could see each others eyes he looked up at me. His face was round and stern. He wasn't Pope Paul VI, yet he was dressed as the Pope.  
  Even so, he looked like the Pope, so I stretched out my arms to embrace him and comfort him. But instead of embracing me he recoiled in fear, a look of total horror before raising his left arm to protect himself. In retrospect, this was one of the most potent memories of the dream, the look of total and complete fear on the face of the little round man with the stern face, dressed like the Pope.  
  And at that very moment the entire Basilica started to crumble around us, the ceiling, the walls, the altar. The next moment I was standing on top of the crumbled ruins of St Peters
alone.		  
  The next day the dream troubled me. What did the symbolism of the doors mean? Why did the Pope cower and recoil in front of me when I approached open arms? Why did the church fall down and I survive but the Pope was killed?  
  Over months I began to forget the dream. It was just a dream and a silly result of a clearly overly imaginative mind. But virtually twelve months to the day I had the dream again. The description and the results the exact same.  
  Now I was scared. This was clearly meant as a message, but what? Was I supposed to join the priesthood like so many others of my ancestors? Was I supposed to dedicate my life to saving the church? Was it somehow my destiny to save the Pope?  
  From then on this dream haunted me and unsettled me as to my purpose. By the time I was twenty the pressure was unbearable and I announced to the world that I was going to become a priest. The first people I told were my family and then old friends such as Archbishop Little. He was so happy he even bought me my own set of prayer books and took me to lunch to celebrate.  
  But over time no other visions came, no more conversations with God. Within a year of my grand announcement I was selling insurance for AMP.  
  I did however see the exact same face of the Pope in these two dreams again some years later. While I had never forgotten the stern round face of this little man dressed as Pope, I had given up believing it was ever a real Pope as Pope John Paul I and Pope John Paul II never looked at all like him. It wasn't until 2005 when I finally came face to face again with that same man as his image was beamed around the world. Without doubt, it was Joseph Alois Ratzinger, the exact same face I had seen as Pope in 1977.  
  3. Offering to bear witness to Christ  
  Sure now at the age of twenty one that my destiny is to make money and forget about silly deluded dreams of childhood imagination, I set about working to make money.  
  Then one night I had a vision that shattered my world. I was standing in a old saxon church, only this time it was full of people in ancient robes. By my side was Jesus. I knew immediately it to be him because he had this kind of glow and calm around him. He had the wounds in his hands and his feet. As I looked across I could see through his left hand to the side wall of the church. As I did I remember asking myself why am I here?  
  In front of us a fierce looking man was shouting accusations and cursing Jesus.
I could not believe it. Instead of shouting the man down, the crowd in the church were jeering and heckling as well.		  
  The first thing that struck me as odd as I was in this dream was why parishoners of a christian church would be heckling and jeering Jesus Christ, the very person they were supposed to follow as Christians! It didn't make sense.  
  I asked myself then was I dreaming? and at that moment midst all the shouting and jeering Jesus turned and smiled at me. I could see the clear whites of his eyes, the hairs of his brow. He was within hands reach. As his eyes connected with mine, I knew then that I was not having an ordinary dream, but a real vision. A vision that I did not understand.  
  At that same moment I thought to myself why won't anyone stand up for Jesus? And within moments after that the very words that I had thought came out of the head accusers mouth "Who will stand up for Jesus? Who will take his place?"  
  Silence. Not a sound could be heard. I glanced around at all the faces, blank with many looking down, up and away from Jesus and I standing there at the front. Just as I realized that no one was coming forward, the stern accuser yelled at me "And you? Will you stand for him?"  
  "Oh No ", I remember thinking. Please let this be a dream. It is only a dream, its not real. Crucifixion is painful. I don't want to die. It has to be a dream, but if it was a dream why did Jesus smile at me when I thought what I thought? No I thought, I'd like to be brave but no. At that moment the accuser yelled at me even louder "Will you take his place?"  
  It was so rude I remember feeling personally insulted. What had I done to this person? So I shouted back at him "Stop, Stop , Yes I will stand for him."  
  Before I knew what I said I remember feeling a load had been lifted. My heart was filled with pure bliss. "Thank you" said Jesus to me as I started to float up and out of the church.  
  The next day, I remember thinking, OK, here's the thing- I'm manic depressive. I mean I have high points and low points, I change like the wind. These dreams are the workings of a deluded mind. I am mad I thought. I have gone mad. OK, maybe if I don't talk about it, it didn't happen.  
  But for the next month and a week, the dream kept haunting me. Not the whole dream repeated, just parts of it. The idea that I was some messiah, that I had some higher purpose? Who do I think I'm kidding? I couldn't even pass English in my final year of schooling.  
  And why were christians attacking Jesus? It did not make sense to me for many years. For I was also brought up to believe that Christianity was the religion founded by Jesus and the Apostles.  
  These thoughts and wars raged within my mind until I gave up. I looked at my life and this battle with God and accepted that this dream was finally a command to take up the cause of our saviour and become a priest.  
  So once again I let people know that I was leaving to become a priest, only this time a Capuchin priest, an order of the Franciscan priests who seek to travel as closely to the path of St Francis as is humanly possible. If ever you're interested you should look them up. They've had more saints per head than any other order in the past two hundred years. Padre Pio was a Capuchin.  
  So off I went with my beard and my new conviction to be a missionary for Christ. For one year I stayed with the Capuchins. For one year I prayed every night, please show me another sign and none came. In the end, as I had done every time before, I slowly slinked back into society and went about never speaking of religion again.  
  4. The High Priests of the Temple  
  For the next ten years until the age of 30 I did not have any other visionary dreams or manifestations in my mind. I had completely shut out all the past. It had never happened, a romantic dream. Money and power, consumption and pleasure were now my pursuits.  
  It was not until some weeks after I had experienced having to leave AMP as a senior executive and in contemplating my future that one night I had a vision of the High Priests of the Temple.  
  In my dream, my vision I felt as if I had woken up to a city of white. All around me was white, bright pure white. The sort of white that glows. As I considered the thought how white everything was I found myself in a crowd of people moving into a beautiful temple. I knew it was a temple because it was a squarish building with high walls, big rounded and long roof. There was no sign of a cross or any Christian symbols.  
  I knew I was with people because they were all around me and they had the form of people in these long white flowing robes and arms and heads and headdress for both men and women. I could tell there they were men and women because all the men had long white beards and there were two basic types of headdress, strange squarish hats and pillowed hats like those of the High Priests of the Old Testament movies and the women had smaller headdresses mostly wearing the squarish hats with veils that hung back across their shoulders like wedding veils.  
  The first thing that struck me was just how odd these people looked. Their faces were like white grey skin that had been further powered with white but without eyes. Instead of eyes they had these black pits that seemed to draw you in. They seemed hollow yet at the same time they seemed to be watching me. I knew this because they moved out of the way for me as I walked up some stairs to an elevated balcony at the back of the temple.  
  As I walked up the stairs, these beings moved aside for me. I thought how polite they are whoever they are. They looked old, very old but not weakly or sickly old. As I looked down I suddenly realized that none of the beings had feet. They were floating on air.  
  I remember vividly thinking within the dream how odd that I should be in what seemed to be clearly a Jewish temple with what had to be elderly Jewish spirits, and probably very senior ones at that. I had never had a dream of any kind about Jewish temples or Jewish symbols ever in my life. Nor had I ever remembered another dream (then or since) of people, with or without eyes that had no feet. I kept thinking why and I here?  
  As I considered that thought, I remember looking to the front alter of the temple and the hundreds of beings below floating in pews on either site of a great aisle. At the end of the aisle was a iron stand holding a cauldron full of different coloured stones like emeralds, sapphires and ruby. Three Priests stood directly behind the cauldron and on the raised alter. They had these emerald covered vests on that glowed midst all the white of the temple and the white of the robed beings.  
  I remember thinking " if those gems up the front are real they would be worth a fortune". The instance I realized just how silly that thought was midst such wise and holy people the head priest motioned for me to come forward and every being in the temple turned and looked at me.  
  Before I could open my mouth I floated down through the air to the aisle and then walked the final steps to in front of the priests and the cauldron of huge diamonds and precious uncut gems.  
  As I got to within touching distance of the gems I could now see how big they were. At that moment the head priest floated over and dug his hands into the bowl and then let the stones fall back into the cauldron. "Will you be our messiah?", he said.  
  What? I thought. This isn't what I was expecting. I glanced back at the jewels. Again I remember thinking if I say yes will I get all this. As this thought finished I remember realizing, no this can't be real, this is just a dream The High Priest spoke again. "All this can be yours", pointing to the precious gems. "Will you be our messiah?"  
  OK if this is a dream then how does he know what I'm thinking? He's offered me a deal here? Messiah of what? Messiah of the Jews? I'm not even Jewish. I remember thinking "I've just spent the past ten years trying to forget about god, messiahs and visions and now this?"  
  One thing I did know was that unlike Christian zealot and other non-Jewish nuts who claim themselves to be the "messiah", by Jewish tradition you have to be born a Messiah, or more particularly, you have to be of the bloodline of the House of David, the ancient Kings of the Hebrews.  
  I remember looking back at him, those black pits for eyes and the faces of over a thousand of these most holy beings and saying "No. No I won't be your messiah".  
  I remember thinking, OK great I've passed some test, now do I get to keep a couple of the stone? Instead his face looked sad and all the faces in the temple looked sad. I remember being amazed at how overwhelmingly depressed this mass group of ancient spirits looked. Maybe he was being serious and he really wanted me to be their leader? But how could this be? The dream was over.  
  The dream of the High Priests really disturbed me. I had long since gotten over the stereotypes of Christian mythology. I had rationalized away the bearing witness to Jesus and the falling of St Peters to an over active imagination. I was even willing to admit a family history potentially of mental illness. But this dream was different.  
  It wasn't Christian and I knew these people were dead and I knew these people were somehow important, very important spirits. How could I have been so stupid to think about money in such a dream? Why did I say no? How come they asked a non-practising Jew to be their Messiah? What did it mean?  
  5. The gift of the Prophet  
  The fifth vision that shaped my life and gave birth to the writing of UCADIA came as I now lived in a warehouse in the centre of Sydney having no possessions, no money and no prospect.  
  Everything that I had dreamed of in terms of financial gain had disappeared. I had become an outcast, an exile. So midst the cold hard reality of my situation I pondered the end game.  
  If my life has come to this, If my life ultimately serves no purpose, then why continue? During those reflections I considered the different ways to kill myself. Jump off a building. To drown. To overdose. To walk in front of the many trucks that used to rumble down the street outside causing the building to shake.  
  Midst all the thoughts of ending life that clouded my head, I remembered back to my childhood and my first memories of talking to God, how real it seemed, how sure I was that my life had some purpose. So I asked a simple question:- "God, universe, whatever you are, if my life has any purpose, if indeed you even exist at all, then show me a sign now, for if my life has no purpose then better to end the misery."  
  That night, whilst sleeping on the dirty and dusty floor of this warehouse with an old blanket to cover me, I had a vision. I was walking as part of a tour through some fantastic ancient ruined temple in the middle of desert lands.  
  I knew it was Indian or Arabian because the air was thick with heat and the smell of spices and all around the ruins the jungle enveloped. The thing I remember thinking was just how vast this ancient temple and how old it must be.  
  I don't remember thinking about where in the world I was, just that I was in a place of great holiness and sanctity. At that moment our tour was inside one of the great temple of the site. We were walking along a covered portico everywhere beautiful stone engravings of ancient rituals and saints. In the centre a beautiful garden. I remember being surprised that such an ancient ruin would have a temple in such good repair. Even the light coming in from the central courtyard and filling the porticos was magnificent shades of gold and oranges and yellows. I remember thinking it doesn't look new.  
  Just then the tour party stopped along the portico with the sun setting in the background and in front of a huge glass case. Inside this case were the extremely well preserved remains of what obviously was a very holy man, his long grey hair and beard still bearing colour. Around the body were preserved flowers and trinkets and offerings.  
  Around his neck he had the most incredible necklace of different shaped black polished rocks. They were smooth and black like the meteorite rock under the Kaaba at Mecca. Maybe it was some kind of precious rock but what? Given he must have been very holy I wondered what it might be made of?  
  I remember thinking how amazing his skin was considering he was dead. It looked perfect. At that very instant the glass on the case fell away without breaking and the eyes of the holy man opened and he sat up.  
  Like a scene from a really bad horror movie everyone else screamed and ran away. Also like a really bad horror moving I remember being frozen with fear for a moment, too scared to speak or move. At the instance that I recognized my fear I relaxed. Even thought I was still dreaming I realized then that all I was experiencing was a hallucination a dream. I chuckled to myself for having such an imaginative dream. I remember thinking I'll just play along for the ride and see where this crazy dream takes us.  
  I remember vividly then looking at this walking corpse approaching me and laughing in contempt. You can't hurt me, this is just a stupid dream, a stupid nightmare. I stood defiant. Then just as he stopped in front of me he smiled and as he smiled he was no longer a corpse but a man with a long jet black beard, piercing brown eyes and beautiful olive skin. He lifted up his necklace and then placed it around my head.  
  I remember getting the spine tingle you get when you remember something profound, or someone says something and your mind clicks "ah-ha". It was definitely an "ah-ha" moment. Here I was a second ago laughing at my absurd dream of the living dead of holy men and all of a sudden he was put this necklace around my neck. And hugged me. I felt ashamed for being so disrespectful to this holy man that had given me what must be something of huge value to him and as that thought materialized he spoke.  
  "Follow your destiny". He smiled once, turned and walked slowly away. Dumfounded, knowing that I was in a dream I remember thinking, is this a dream, or is this real, did this really just happen?  
  The next day I committed myself to writing and completing UCADIA. That life is a dream, that I had some purpose, some destiny.  
  Now if you've read to this point so far, by now you're thinking "this person is completely bananas." Maybe you are right, but as I said these are the dreams that have shaped my life and have made UCADIA what it is.  
  You might also be thinking "This person says he's no messiah, but he's totally riddled with messiah syndrome- he is a messiah freak." If you are, then these dreams could certainly be twisted to serve that argument.  
  Only that I know I am no messiah and I know that I am sane and that the whole purpose of this web site is to promote future life concepts that show to be human is to be more, that everyone can connect to the absolute and no one can stand between you and the universe.  
  Anyway, the "Follow your destiny" line from the holy man who came to life gave me strength. Whenever I felt uncertain, I remembered the weight of the necklace around my head and how it made me feel safe and loved and it was as if that imaginary necklace of protection was really there.  
  The more I wrote of UCADIA the more I came to believe I had finally found my try destiny. The words of the holy man ringing in my years every day for years. "Follow your destiny." So on I went and on I wrote.  
  6. Lucifer in Venice  
  A few years later and many pages later I found myself still alive and still trying to complete this Herculean task of completing UCADIA in a beautiful place called Bronte in Sydney. Here I sought answers to the unanswered questions - on the one hand everything about Unique Collective Awareness says that every person is special, there are no need for messiahs, so who am I?  
  I felt as if I had tried to let people know about Unique Collective Awareness that Life is a Dream and great ideas but for no result. I felt frustrated. I felt annoyed. I left that maybe it was just a coping mechanism for getting through personal troubles.  
  It was during that time that I experienced the sixth most powerful dream of my life. In this dream I found myself walking along the cloisters of St Marks Square in Venice.  
  I knew it was Venice because I could see it was St Marks Square by the tower, the birds and the smell. But instead of tourists laughing and taking photos, people were being literally torn apart by these monsters dressed in black Christian monk robes like some werewolf vampire movie. I remember thinking the screams of these people sound awfully real for a B-grade movie what if they are really being killed by these demons? I remember looking out and seeing hundreds of people being gradually slaughtered by this physical evil. At that moment I remember thinking 'what can I do? I have no gun, I don't even really believe in Christianity any more?' As I did the screams got louder and I looked at the anguish on the faces of those being killed.  
  Something at the pit of my stomach clicked. Even though I felt my heart racing in fear, I felt this rising anger and hatred towards the torment of the demons as the anger rose I felt myself lift from the ground. As the anger grew I rose even higher until I was high above the square and with that I reached out my arms and yelled at the top of my lungs "Stop!" With that the demons froze and stopped what they were doing. Then with every ounce of anger I remember yelling "Be gone" and the demons disappeared.  
  In a moment I was back on the ground and walking again along the porticos. Everything seemed to pause for a moment. I remember thinking "Wow what power I felt. That felt great!" Then "what a vivid and graphic dream". At the moment that thought crystallized in front of the path I was walking was now standing the Devil.  
  I knew it was Lucifer, not because of horns or a tail but because of the darkness he cast on the very space he walked. Pure evil. I could feel the evil oozing from his body and his eyes. It was the same sense of the presence of the demons before but manifestly more powerful.  
  The very first thought that struck me was "Oh No he's going to get me now" after dispatching his demons. My heart leapt into my throat. He was so close I could smell his breath and see clearly into his snake eyes.  
  But what struck me then was what I saw in them. I remember thinking "There's fear there, I can see fear!"  
  As soon as I remember thinking I see fear in the eyes of Lucifer I began laughing out loud. "Imagine the Devil is frightened of me". I couldn't stop laughing, it seemed absurd, yet so vivid. When the thought re-entered my mind how crazy a dream, I still remember being able to look back into the Devil's eyes still thinking that thought, still laughing.  
  If this was a dream then why can I sense this is truly Lucifer in front of me, virtually frozen by command to this spot until I release him? At that moment he bowed his head to be and I did the same and then he moved out of my way and I continued walking.  
  Of all the dreams so far in my life this was the most disturbing. Surely I am deluded, sub-consciously programming myself to a destiny of claiming to be a messiah? But is that true? I didn't ask for the dream. I didn't even particularly care in the first instance that people were being hurt in the dream. I wanted to run away. That's not brave?  
  7. The wisdom within- Awareness Loves Life - the SOL code  
  The thing that had disturbed me most about the fear of the Devil to me was the whole Messiah typecast. The problem of Messiahs it is a lousy profession. The worst problem of all is that they end up doing more harm than good. Think about it! Buddha for all his holiness and self-sacrifice and negativity towards idol worship has more statues of worship than any other person in human history? What ultimately is the benefit in people continuing such narrow minded ways? In fact Messiahs can be blamed for much of the sadness that has happened on Earth as their followers have raged religious wars.  
  Then upon reading of the ancient wisdom of native America I realised a key in the understanding that if one can understand then all can understand because all of humanity is ultimately one spirit. In other words, if I can understand and still be a normal person then it is possible for every person to understand. But how? How can you prove conclusively that there can be no more messiahs? How do you end the reign and worship of messiahs?  
  The final dream so far in my life that has affected me the most came in recent years. It came midst the acceptance that for the rest of my life I will have to deal with this "messiah syndrome" tendencies and that I have to accept that I am prone to delusion.  
  I had accepted that all the work of UCADIA had effectively been a personal diary, an outreach of a person mentally ill who needed a reason to continue. Everything made sense. I felt ready to close the book and turn off the web site.  
  Then I had a dream, of all the dreams it was the simplest and one of the most profound. I was standing on top of mountain looking out at a glorious day and as I breathed in the sweet I felt my heart swell and as I felt my heart swell I heard the words "Awareness Loves Life". And as I thought for a second about what it meant in an instant I could feel every cell in my body I was my body, I was the air, I was no body, I was the sun I was everything but I was more, I was a human being.  
  The next day I went back to old research over the creation stories of humans by the Gods (Adam and Eve stories). I started to think what if this knowledge that I have been writing wasn't some kind of divine message from across space and time but a message from within? The SOL code was born. That coded within the "Junk DNA" of every person is tubulin dimer protein code that is the coded wisdom of the absolute- our soul. That each of us truly can reach enlightenment ourselves, with no guru or messiahs. That we are our own messiahs, our own saviors, through our own awakening to the realization that our minds are immortal, that life is a blessed dream.The meaning of enlightenment is Awareness Loves Life.  
 
 

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