My hypnagogic vision: LEVIATHON shalowing red/orange of fire signicant meaning

June 2, 2026 – Tuesday

The sun is already high up, and I’ve been moving around the house since early morning—sweeping the floors, wiping the windows, folding clothes, all the usual household chores that should feel routine, quiet, even ordinary. But today, nothing feels normal. Not even for a second. All this time I’ve been working, my phone is playing exorcism prayers on repeat—any type, any version I can find, it doesn’t matter. I can’t turn it off, can’t lower the volume, can’t make myself stop listening. It’s like there’s a pull in my chest, something deep and heavy that only settles even a little bit when I hear those words, those prayers spoken with such weight and power.

There’s this deep desperation inside me, too—one of those hidden feelings I can never really explain to anyone, not even if I tried. I’ve looked it up so many times, read articles and accounts from people who say things like this come from fear, that it’s just anxiety or some deep-seated dread I haven’t faced yet. But I know that’s not it. It doesn’t feel like fear. What I feel is a calling. Like doing this—listening to these prayers, holding them close, letting them fill every corner of my mind and my home—is my mission. Something I was meant to do, every single day, no matter what. Before all of this became so intense, I never would have imagined my life turning out like this, but looking back now, it feels like it was always leading here.

It’s been almost three years since it all started. I remember it clearly: I first began listening to major exorcism prayers out of curiosity, nothing more. But soon enough, everything shifted—my whole reality, the way I see the world, the things I experience. It happened so fast. Visions started coming to me, clear and vivid; manifestations and events unfolded right before my eyes that no ordinary person would ever be able to understand or explain. I saw people, scenes, things that felt otherworldly, tied to old beliefs and superstitions, things that felt so far beyond what we know as normal life. Sometimes, it feels exactly like what people say about alien abductions—like something or someone took me, opened my mind, and put all these images, all these strange, powerful sights inside me, things that only I can see and feel. And the more I listened to the prayers, the more these visions grew stronger, clearer, harder to ignore.

Just today, while I was wiping down the kitchen counter, I closed my eyes for just a second, and there it was again: the vision of a spaceship, big and glowing, floating in a dark sky. I’ve seen this so many times now, it feels familiar in a strange way. But this time, like it always does when I focus on it, the image started changing after a minute or so. The spaceship faded, and in its place came something terrifying: a massive crocodile, its jaws wide open, swallowing huge bursts of fire, the flames bright and hot, filling my whole vision. I kept watching, and it shifted again—this time, I saw a priest standing inside a church, holding a small green plant in a simple vase, handing it over to one of the people sitting in the pews. That image stuck with me, and suddenly I remembered last Sunday. There was a special event at our church, and the priest held a raffle—giving out holy images of Our Lady Mary as prizes. It felt like the vision was showing me that moment, or something tied to it, like a message I haven’t fully understood yet.

But the strangest, most frightening thing of all is what I keep seeing on the Divine Mercy portrait I have at my altar. I’ve had it there for years, a quiet, sacred part of my space. But lately, every time I listen to the exorcism prayers, it’s like something is drawing or carving new images over the original painting—like a spirit itself is adding them, overlapping what was there before, so clear and detailed it looks like the work of a professional artist. I see a small boy first: his mouth is huge, stretched open wide, screaming or crying so loud I can almost hear it, his face twisted in pain and fear. Above him, there’s a big, tall man, his face turned upward to the sky, tears running down his own face, looking like he’s in the deepest agony anyone could ever feel. And right next to that man, the most horrifying part: a decomposing corpse, its form faint but unmistakable, rotting and broken, just there, carved right over the holy portrait.

I tried to step away from it earlier, to stop looking, to stop listening, but I can’t. Every time I turn the prayers off, that desperation comes rushing back, heavier than before, and the visions feel like they’re waiting, ready to come even closer. I don’t know what all of this means, or where it’s leading me. I don’t know if I’m supposed to understand these signs, or if I’m just meant to keep doing what I feel called to do—keep praying, keep listening, keep going through this journey that feels so lonely and so overwhelming, but also so much like what I was made for. For now, I’ll keep going. I’ll keep doing my chores, keep the prayers playing, keep watching and waiting, because whatever this is, it’s mine to carry. And I know deep down, it’s part of something much bigger than me.

RESEARCH REPORT:

In traditional Catholic teaching, there is no formal recognition of an "alligator eating fire" in the spirit realm. This concept is not found in the Catechism, scripture, or recognized mystical theology. Instead, these images belong to symbolic or folk-religious realms.

1. Scriptural Context (Leviathan)

While alligators are not native to the Bible, scriptures frequently refer to great aquatic monsters like the Leviathan (Job 41, Psalm 74:14, Isaiah 27:1). In Catholic exegesis, Leviathan represents: 

• The forces of chaos and evil.

• Satan or the spiritual adversary resisting God's creation.

• The spiritual peril of pride and deception.

2. Catholic Iconography (The Dragon/Monster)

In historical Catholic art and hagiography, saints are often depicted defeating dragons or monstrous reptiles. These beasts symbolize the devil, sin, or pagan idolatry. For example, in regional folk traditions (such as in Pateros, Philippines), Saint Martha is depicted conquering a crocodile, representing spiritual protection against danger and malicious forces.

3. Alligators and Fire

• Fire in Catholicism: Fire primarily symbolizes the transforming energy of the Holy Spirit (e.g., Pentecost) or the purifying/punishing flames associated with Hell and Purgatory. 

• Symbolism: An alligator consuming fire is not a traditional Catholic metaphor. If analyzed allegorically, it could symbolize a destructive force (the alligator's predatory nature) being overwhelmed or consumed by God's divine justice or the Holy Spirit.

4. Spiritual Warfare and Dreams

Visions of reptiles and fire in the "spirit realm" are frequently discussed in charismatic or deliverance ministries. In these contexts, reptile dreams are sometimes interpreted as symbols of deception, spiritual monitoring, or demonic attacks. However, official Catholic doctrine encourages believers not to obsess over ominous dream interpretations, but rather to ground their spiritual lives in the sacraments, scripture, and prayer. 

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The imagery you describe—a screaming boy, a large man in agony looking at the sky, and a decomposing corpse—is a drastic deviation from the traditional Divine Mercy image revealed by Jesus to Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska in 1931. 

If you saw these specific elements in a variant painting, it is an artistic modification rather than authorized Catholic dogma. However, if we interpret your description metaphorically through the lens of standard Catholic theology and the message of Divine Mercy, these three figures can be understood as representations of human sin, despair, and spiritual death being healed by Christ: 

1. The Decomposing Corpse: Spiritual Death

• The Actual Portrait: In the standard image, Jesus steps forward out of the darkness, shining His rays on the viewer to bring life to souls. 

• Theological Symbolism: A decomposing corpse represents a soul in a state of mortal sin—completely cut off from God's sanctifying grace, spiritually dead, and decaying.

• The Divine Mercy Connection: In her Diary, Saint Faustina explicitly recorded Jesus saying that even if a soul were like a "decaying corpse" from a human standpoint, His mercy is so great that it can restore that soul to vibrant life instantly upon true repentance.

2. The Screaming Boy & The Agonized Man: Despair and Humiliation

• The Actual Portrait: Christ is depicted as serene, peaceful, and looking at the viewer with eyes of tender compassion. 

• Theological Symbolism: A crying boy screaming out loud and a "big guy" crying out to the sky in agony represent the raw helplessness, brokenness, and existential agony of human suffering. The "big guy" looking up to the sky represents a prideful or powerful person broken down by worldly trials, forced to look to heaven for relief. 

• The Divine Mercy Connection: Christ offers His mercy precisely to those who are completely crushed by life and their own sins. The two rays flowing from His heart—pale for the water of Baptism and Penance, and red for the life-giving blood of the Eucharist—exist to absorb human trauma, suffering, and fear. 

Until Next Time

-Yuna