“Sacred Encounters: Dreams, Visions and Divine Whispers“

Before continuing with my healing journey, I’d like to pause for a moment and share some of my spiritual experiences. As human beings, we sometimes receive signs—not always loud or dramatic, but meaningful in their own way. I’ve had vivid dreams that I believe weren’t just ordinary images slipping away in sleep. Some of them, I truly feel, were part of my spiritual path—guidance, or maybe glimpses of something beyond this life. Maybe even signs that my soul has been here before.

One dream, in particular, has stayed with me for many years. It was around 2005. I had gone to bed in tears that night, overwhelmed by something I can’t fully recall. I woke up around 4 AM, still heavy with emotion, and then drifted back to sleep.

That’s when it happened.

In my dream, I heard a voice. It asked, “Do you want to see Mohammed?”

I replied, “Which Mohammed?”

Then the voice said, “Do you want to see Prophet Mohammed?”

And then, I saw him.

He was not dressed in gold or robes or anything extravagant. He wore a simple blue shirt and long black pants. No jewellery. No throne. Just a modest man. He wasn’t especially tall. His hair was black, his eyes deep, his features strong. He didn’t say a word. He simply walked over to where I was, sat down beside me, and placed his arm gently behind my back.

It was a calm and powerful moment. I felt seen.

When I woke up, I was stunned. I immediately prayed and, almost impulsively, I challenged God. I said something like, “If that dream really came from You, then please grant my wish right now.”

And then I made my wish.

And you know what?

God granted it. Instantly.

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So, there you go—I made my wish, and God granted it instantly. Not just once, but a few times throughout the day, He gave me signs that confirmed the dream was real. I could hardly speak that day. I was frozen in disbelief, overwhelmed by what I had experienced.

And in Islam, there is a Hadith that speaks about dreams of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). It says:

“Whoever has seen me in a dream has truly seen me, for Satan cannot take my form.”
(Sahih al-Bukhari 6994, Sahih Muslim 2266)

That Hadith confirmed what I felt in my heart—that what I saw was indeed the Prophet. I didn’t feel worthy. When I think about my sins, especially the ones I’ve shared in this memoir, I still feel ashamed. Sometimes I ask myself, why would someone like me be granted such a miracle?

I don’t have the answer.

But maybe that’s the point—God’s grace reaches far beyond our understanding. He sees the depths of our hearts when we can barely face ourselves.

The second dream I want to share was just as vivid and mysterious.

In this dream, I was walking along a quiet beach at night. The waves were calm, and the sky was dark but peaceful. As I walked toward the end of the beach, I saw something extraordinary—a golden chariot resting on top of the sand.

It was the most beautiful chariot I had ever seen. It glowed with soft lights and was decorated with tiny, intricate flowers. The beauty was otherworldly—almost sacred.

I approached it… and then I stepped inside.

Inside the chariot were two entities made entirely of light. One I perceived as male—he had short black hair. The other seemed female—she had long, flowing blonde hair. Their faces were smooth and undefined, but they looked at me gently, as if they were welcoming me.

And then I noticed something else. Someone—or something—was sitting next to me. I couldn’t see its face or body clearly. All I felt was a hand holding mine. A peaceful, strong presence.

And then…

We flew away.

We soared through the sky in that radiant chariot, and I wasn’t afraid. I felt held, safe, as if I belonged there.

To this day, I believe they were my guardians. My angels. Sent to protect me and guide me by the command of God. It was as if, even after everything—my mistakes, my pain, my brokenness—God wanted me to know:

I was never alone.

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And then there was the third vivid, mysterious, and deeply spiritual dream—one that left me stunned and speechless when I woke up.

In this dream, something—or someone—offered me a “third eye” that would be placed right between my two eyes. The presence spoke to me, not with harshness, but with a calm authority. It said:

“If you choose to receive this third eye, you will never be married. And if you ever want to remove it, it will be difficult—nearly impossible.”

I remember standing still in that dream, trying to grasp the weight of what was being offered. A gift, yes, but one with great consequences.

My heart hesitated.

At that time, I was still young. I still longed for the full experience of life—marriage, love, work, a family. I wasn’t ready to live a life that might set me apart from others in such a profound and permanent way. The idea of walking a spiritual path alone, disconnected from what most people call a “normal life,” felt too big for me.

So gently… I refused the gift.

Even now, I still think about that dream. I wonder what would have happened if I had said yes. Would I have been granted a deeper insight into the spiritual realm? Would my life have taken an entirely different shape?

Sometimes I think—if that dream ever came again, now that I’m older, more aware, and less attached to worldly desires—maybe my answer would be different.

But back then, I wasn’t ready. And I believe that too was part of the journey.

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And there’s more experience I want to share—though this one wasn’t a dream. It happened around 2007, and I was fully awake.

At the time, my house was still under renovation, and I was sleeping on the couch while my little sister slept in the bedroom. It was an ordinary night—until I woke up suddenly in the middle of it. The electricity had gone out. The house was wrapped in silence and darkness.

I had taken off my glasses before sleeping, so my vision was a little blurry. But I saw something unmistakable.

Moonlight was streaming through the kitchen ceiling and shining into the living room. But it wasn’t just light—it was shaped like something. No, someone. A human form—an old man—made entirely of light.

He sat quietly on a chair, dressed like a traditional Muslim man. A sajadah (prayer mat) hung over his shoulder. He wore a cap and a sarong. His face was flat, without definition, but his presence was calm and grounded. There was no sense of threat—only something I couldn’t explain.

I froze. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Then instinct took over—I screamed, reached for my glasses, and called my sister. When she came rushing out of the bedroom, the entity had vanished.

But I know what I saw. It was real.

Was he a guardian? An ancestor? A messenger? I still don’t know. But I believe he came with a purpose, even if that purpose was simply to remind me that I was never alone.

Only God the Almighty knows the fullness of that night.

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And there’s one more profound experience I need to include, one that took place sometime around 2017 or 2018—this time not in a dream or seeing a divine entity, but in full reality.

It happened at my workplace. A female colleague was being possessed—not metaphorically, but literally. An outside entity had entered her, and two people—my workplace neighbourhood had considered them as spiritual practitioners who usually handled these situations—were trying to help her. But they couldn’t. No matter what they did, the entity kept returning.

That evening, I had just finished praying Maghrib. Something told me to walk into the room where the woman was lying down. Her eyes were wide and unnatural—still under the influence of that entity.

I walked over, gently took her hand, looked directly into those dark, bold eyes, and without thinking, I shouted at the spirit:
“You better come out of her right now!”

And to my amazement… it did.

The entity left her body in that moment. Her breathing changed. Her gaze softened. Slowly, she came back to herself.

I stood there in awe, questioning everything. Did I really do that? Was that power coming from me? Do I have a gift I haven’t understood yet?

And there were more experiences beyond that—dreams that pulled me into strange, heavy dimensions where everything felt dense and otherworldly. The energy required just to be in those places was immense. I remember reciting Surah An-Naas in those dreams—calling upon God’s protection, feeling the weight of something beyond this world pressing around me. Those dreams never left me. They remain etched into my soul, powerful and mysterious.

To this day, I don’t have all the answers.
But I know what I’ve seen.
I know what I’ve felt.
And I know that somewhere, somehow… these experiences are part of a divine thread that connects my pain, my healing, and my calling.

Looking back, I still don’t fully understand why these experiences were given to me. I wasn’t the most pious. I had wandered far. I had sinned. I had broken. But maybe, somehow, that’s exactly why I was chosen to see and feel what I did—because I needed to. Because God, in His mysterious mercy, was trying to pull me back to my essence, to remind me that even the most shattered soul can still be guided, can still be held, and can still be used for something greater.

These visions, these dreams, these unseen moments—whether in sleep or in waking—have become sacred milestones in my journey. They weren’t meant to glorify me. They were meant to humble me. To show me that I am not alone. That through the chaos, the heartbreak, the illness, and the injustice, I was always being watched. Always being guarded. Always being gently redirected to a higher purpose.

And even though the full meaning of these experiences may never be revealed in this lifetime, I hold them close—as signs that I am still a work in progress, still loved, still seen.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog