"Volcanic Eruption Warning for Indonesia and Japan – Regional Tsunami and Earthquake Risks Extend to Singapore."

"In the near future, Indonesia ,Philippine and Japan may experience a volcanic eruption. 

This event could lead to phenomena such as earthquakes , which may impact areas as far as Singapore. 

Therefore, we kindly urge everyone to take precautionary measures and stay alert. This advance notice is shared with care and concern."

May all being be free from Danger!

With Metta

Warning

As we approach the end of March and move into April, regions such as Mandalay, Sagaing, and some part of Shan State may experience the effects of earthquakes. 

Given the potential impact on historical sites, infrastructure, and communities, it is crucial to take proactive measures for preservation and reconstruction. 

Proper planning and preparedness can help mitigate damage and ensure a swift recovery. 

May all beings remain safe and free from harm during this time of uncertainty.

With Metta

May wisdom and righteousness guide all beings.

Custodian of Buddha Scare Tooth Relics

Date -2025 March 1st

Dream Number 15

 In the dream, I found myself within the confines of a building, its atmosphere heavy with tension. Outside, the scene was fraught: police officers and embassy staff had arrived, intent on mediating a labor dispute that seemed on the verge of eruption. Suddenly, a wave of urgency surged through the air as a large group of (.   ) migrants forced their way into the premises. The security guards, overwhelmed, slammed the doors shut behind them, barring entry to all others.

As I sought re-entry, desperation clawed at me, but the guards held firm. Then, in the chaos, another door was broken down, its wooden frame splintering under pressure. I followed the throng inside, only to be met with a scene of harrowing conflict. The air crackled with violence as heated arguments escalated into physical altercations. Amid the pandemonium, the crack of gunfire tore through the clamor, freezing time and amplifying the fear that pulsed through the room.

Outside the building, the chaos extended to a nearby football field. On the field, teams of players, dressed in peaceful unity in their yellow shirts, had gathered to play. This tranquil scene shattered when a (.   ) team charged onto the field, turning the game into a battleground. The players, their camaraderie disrupted, faced an onslaught near the (.   )’s office, a space symbolic of stability and authority.

Through the turmoil, a profound yearning arose within me: a prayer for peace. May the hearts of all involved—Burmese and Thai alike—be softened and healed. May understanding replace discord, and may all beings, regardless of their circumstances or origins, be free from suffering.

Dream Number 7: The Cave of Relics and the Warning of Preservation

One night, in the stillness of my sleep, a familiar presence appeared in my dream — a famous monk, revered by many, though he had passed away a year ago. His face was calm and serene, as it had always been in life. Without speaking, he gestured for me to follow him. 

We walked together, our steps light and purposeful, as he led me towards a mountain. At its base was a cave, dark and ancient, hidden within the mountain’s belly. I could sense the weight of history in the air, the kind that lingers in places long forgotten by the world. 

 At the top of the mountain, I could see the ruins of old stupas, though only their foundation blocks remained. The structures, once grand, had been eroded by time. Yet, their significance was still felt, as if they held a sacred power. Inside the cave, I was surprised to find a large gathering of people. Their eyes were fixed on me and something that glimmered softly in the dim light — relics. These were not just ordinary relics; they radiated with a presence that commanded reverence and awe.

 But soon, the calmness in the cave began to break. People started arguing, their voices rising in heated tension. The air filled with hostility as they debated which nation had the right to claim ownership of the relics. It was as if ancient rivalries had been reignited, and their desire for power and control overshadowed the sanctity of the space. Just as the conflict was about to erupt into violence, the monk raised his hand and spoke. His voice was like a bell ringing through the cave, silencing the chaos. "All of you," he said, "do you even know the moto and principal of these relics?" His question cut through the room like a sharp blade. Everyone stood still, listening intently. "If anyone here tries to step forward in greed or claim ownership, they will pay the price. A hand raised to take what does not belong will be cut off. A foot stepping where it should not tread will be severed. This is the law — the code of preservation and protection.

 The guardianship of these relics is not to be challenged." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. The crowd seemed to shrink under the warning, understanding the severity of their actions. Suddenly, a princess approached me, her face anxious yet determined. She took hold of my hands and, with urgency in her voice, said, "We have official communication between you and our people. I must be first in priority. Do not forget this." Her request was clear — she sought to secure her place in line, to ensure that her nation’s interests were recognized above all others. 

 As I pondered her words, the monk gently reminded me of my purpose. "There are others waiting for you inside the cave," he said. "You must meet them. This is your first meeting, and they have awaited your arrival for a long time." He guided me further into the cave’s depths, where the light grew dimmer, but the sense of mystery and anticipation deepened. As I stepped into a deeper chamber, I was greeted by an unexpected sight — a Yakkhā, a fierce guardian spirit, appeared before me, his form both menacing and majestic. He showed me his face, as if to mark our encounter, then vanished as quickly as he had appeared. 

Following him came another guardian spirit, an ārakkha devatā, who materialized to acknowledge my presence and the significance of my journey. Finally, a young man appeared. His face was familiar, yet distant, as if from a time long ago. He greeted me warmly, though it was clear this was our first official meeting. There was an air of recognition between us, as if we had been connected for many years, perhaps even from a time when I was still very young. 

This meeting had been long awaited, and now it was finally taking place. Before I could speak, the monk’s voice echoed in my mind. "This is a warning," he said. "The guardians are watching, and the preservation process is in place. If anyone violates the sanctity of these relics, the standard operating procedures will be activated immediately. There will be no hesitation, and the consequences will be swift." I woke from the dream, the monk’s words still resonating within me. It was not just a message for me, but a warning to all — a reminder that sacred things must be protected, and those who seek to disrupt their preservation will face dire consequences. The relics, the cave, the guardians — they were all part of a larger force that existed beyond our understanding, a force that would not be compromised.

Dream Number 5: A Message and Alert to the World

A Message and Alert to the World August, 2024

In the silence of sleep, I found myself amidst an unusual scene, vivid and unsettling. A group of very old women, with faces marked by age and wisdom, were sweeping. But these weren’t ordinary sweepers; they pushed broom carts, moving not across floors but beneath carpets that covered the ground. Their movements were deliberate, as if they were uncovering something hidden, ensuring that not a speck of dust remained. It wasn’t just cleaning for cleanliness’ sake — it felt symbolic, a grand preparation. They weren’t sweeping the upper floors; no, this was much deeper. The entire floor was being uncovered, as if revealing what had long been concealed under the guise of normalcy. I stood there, curious but also cautious, watching them perform their task with great care.

One of the women, her voice soft but firm, turned to me. "Stay away from this process," she said. "This is not for you." There was a tone of finality in her words, a warning that I could not ignore. I felt as though I was being shielded from something much larger, something inevitable. She continued, "The time has already been set. Around the nations, around the world — they have set the date for the great cleaning." Her words sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t just about sweeping floors or tidying up. There was something global at play, something cosmic. It was as if the very fabric of the world was about to be shaken, and everything impure or hidden was about to be exposed. She spoke of moral decline, of sexual misconduct, of things that had been ignored or tolerated for too long. And now, it seemed, a higher power, perhaps the force that governs the universe, had decided that enough was enough. The cleaning would begin, not in one place but everywhere.

I saw in my mind’s eye the 11th floor of the 31 stages — a realm I barely understood but knew was tied to higher spiritual truths. The conflicts, the wars, the tensions between nations — they were all tied to this. The world had been teetering on the edge, and now, it seemed, the tipping point had come. There would be death, there would be suffering, and it would touch every corner of the earth. Yet, even as the old woman spoke of these things, there was a faint flicker of hope in her eyes. "There is still time," she seemed to suggest. "Peace can still be sought. Conflict can still be resolved." But the window was small, and the hour was near. I woke with a sense of urgency, a knowing that this dream was not just a figment of my imagination. It was a message — a call to action for the world to seek peace, to resolve conflicts before it was too late. The cleaning was coming, whether we were ready for it or not. But perhaps, just perhaps, with enough resolve, enough hope, we could soften its blow. To the world, I share this dream as both a warning and a plea: Hold on to peace. Seek resolution, for the time is drawing near. The old women have begun their sweeping, and soon, nothing hidden will remain hidden.

There would cause of war, lots of be death, there would be suffering, and no corner of the earth would be untouched. Forest fires raging uncontrollably, earthquakes shaking the earth in nine relentless waves, devastating floods, and storms sweeping across nations. These disasters mirrored the cleaning that the women were preparing for — the earth itself responding to the moral and spiritual degradation of humanity. To the world, I share this dream as both a warning and a plea: Hold on to peace. Seek resolution and restore our planet, for the time is drawing near. The old women have begun their sweeping, and soon, nothing hidden will remain hidden. May we be ready for the cleaning that is to come, not only of our moral failures and conflicts but also of the earth itself like disaster.May we be ready for the cleaning that is to come. The old women have begun their sweeping. The cleaning has begun. May all beings be free from suffering and have sufficient food and shelter. May we find the strength to restore balance before it’s too late. May all beings be free from suffering. May all have sufficient food and shelter.

The Dream of Fire and Relics: A Vision of Sacred Duty in an Age of Global War “When the world burns in conflict, those who carry relics carry more than bones—they carry the memory of peace.”

In the year around 2021, I had a vivid dream—one that felt like a message beyond time, one that still lingers in my memory as though etched into my very being.

In the dream, I found myself walking along a road—one that felt like any ordinary street, but quickly transformed into a battlefield of chaos. Fire raged across a vast area of the road. Smoke filled the sky, and panic was in the air. Amidst this terrifying scene, I saw a man wearing the traditional dress of Muslim worshippers. He was running—desperate to survive. Then, from somewhere unseen, a gunshot echoed. He was hit, and his body collapsed to the ground. I saw it happen. I stood still, shocked, yet aware that survival was now the only instinct.

I was not empty-handed. In my hands, I held the sacred relics of the Buddha. Their presence was calming, holy, and powerful. I knew I had to protect them at all costs.

The war zone stretched in all directions. Gunfire roared from both sides of the street. Explosions shook the ground. I searched for refuge—not just for myself, but for the relics. Suddenly, I was no longer on the burning road. I found myself inside the compound of an international school. At the time, I didn’t understand why I was there, but now—after enrolling in an international university in 2023—I know this was a sign of future transformation, a shift in my own life path. The dream had foretold it.

But even the school was not safe. War had no mercy. Gunfire was closing in. Flames reached near our walls. I rushed to the rooftop of the building. There, I saw the connection between the fire and our structure—an explosive force that had broken the walls like a shattered vinyl record. Just when fear peaked, someone arrived.

It was a member of the Ariya Vijodara Society. He took my hand and led me away—through chaos, through smoke, through uncertainty—into a hidden forest safe zone. I carried the relics still, close to my chest, as though they were the only link between the sacred and the burning world.

But survival was still not simple. As a vegetarian, I faced a great test. Food was scarce. My devotees had nothing to offer me. I stood before a spiritual choice: Should I maintain my vows or bend in order to survive? The struggle of faith and the body weighed heavily on me. Yet my heart leaned toward devotion.

Then, a voice in the dream whispered a final vision:

""If China launches an attack on Taipei, it could trigger the Third World War, as the United States would be directly drawn into the conflict."

It was no longer just a fear—it was a prophecy.

The United States and China—giants of the modern age—would enter into a deadly confrontation, a war not of ideas but of extinction. Massive destruction would unfold. Armies would fall. Cities would vanish. Nations would lose their history in the fires of modern weaponry.

The Middle East would suffer immense devastation.
China would endure catastrophic losses.
And the United States, despite its might, would not escape the storm.

In the dream’s final and most chilling vision, I saw the United States itself in ruins.
Cities—once glowing with light—were turned to ashes.
Enemies had breached the great borders.
The opposition forces, unseen but overwhelming, struck mercilessly.

But the story did not end there.

In its final hour, the U.S. military activated a weapon never before revealed to the world—a secret weapon, buried deep in the classified vaults of power. It was not nuclear, but something far more terrible.

“A weapon powered by an energy force three times greater than the atomic bomb.”

Its blast was not just physical—it was energetic, almost cosmic.
It consumed the land like lightning from the sky.
This final strike was aimed at China, and the devastation was total.

No nation emerged unscathed.

What was this weapon?
Was it the rumored black energy technology?
Was it drawn from quantum mechanics, cosmic fusion, or interdimensional science never known to the public?

In the dream, no name was given—only the sense of forbidden knowledge, power too dangerous for this world.

It was as though mankind had reached the edge of divine punishment, wielding forces meant only for celestial beings.
And in doing so, it triggered a reset—a purification through pain.

The Silent Survivors and the Sacred Relics

When the smoke cleared, only a few remained.

I was still in the forest, holding the relics.
I was not alone. A few others—monks, seekers, children—stood beside me, eyes full of sorrow, but hearts full of light.

In our hands were not weapons, but memory.
Not missiles, but merit.

We were not warriors.
We were witnesses—and now, rebuilders.

This dream is not a fantasy.
It is a warning.
A map.
A glimpse of a future that may still be changed—if wisdom is heard, and the Dharma is upheld.

If the dream becomes real:

• Let the relics be preserved.

• Let the forest remain untouched.

• Let compassion guide our science.

• Let leaders listen before they strike.

• Let every vegetarian hunger become a symbol of nonviolence.

• Let the Ariyas lead those who remain into a future of peace.

Because in the end, when all weapons are exhausted, only one force will endure—the truth of the Buddha’s path.

May all being be safe and peace .

Sao Dhammasami