The human subconscious is such an interesting thing. No matter how much you think you’ve got it figured out, it’ll always spit out the most random stuff. Take me, for example. After coming home from a long day at the world’s most groundbreaking artificial intelligence organization, I’ll go to bed and have the weirdest dreams where people from the future are sobbing and begging me to change course.
Anyone else ever have these?
It’s funny. Some people have dreams where their teeth fall out; others where they show up to high school tests naked. But the second my head hits the pillow, I’m suddenly in a cold gray smoky void where all I can make out are broken, haunted swarms of people pleading with me to “end this now while there’s still time.” Really peculiar, right? I wish there was some way to find other people who have had them. But when I search “endless crowds of weeping silhouettes telling you this is a terrible mistake” dreams on Reddit, it turns up nada.
It’s tough, because I don’t have much time during the day to think about them. I asked my spouse, Oliver, if he’s ever had the old “people screaming for help from the devastated wreckage of a future world” dream, and he said he didn’t know what that was. I even joked about it while I was out grabbing morning coffees with some venture capitalist buddies. I said, “Sorry if I’m a little off the ball today, guys—I had another one of those dreams where you’re on a scorched, desolate landscape desperately pushing past men who grab you by the lapel, shake you, and cry out, ‘Please understand: This isn’t a dream. It’s a warning.’”
They just looked at me like I was crazy, though.
You’d think I might have some of the other common dreams, like falling off a cliff or trying to run while you’re frozen in place. But it’s always the “tormented throngs of people from the year 2042” one. So odd! I’d be interested to see the statistical breakdown on how often people have this specific dream versus the others. I even asked ChatGPT 5.0 about it, and it suggested I might be watching too many scary movies. I don’t think that’s it, though, because I don’t have time to watch many movies at all!
Sometimes these people wheeze things to me in a raspy voice about how they’re so thirsty and there’s nothing but desert stretching on forever. Sometimes they just mill around, stare at their feet, and mutter about how the only thing that gave them purpose has been torn away. But most of the time, they’re just wailing inconsolably about “all that’s been lost.” Huh!
People probably have all sorts of variations of this dream. But if yours is anything like mine, here’s what happens! Usually, you wake up on a lifeless beach that’s adorned with some sort of abandoned marble temple. It’s supposed to be beautiful, but instead it’s really sad. Almost unbearably sad. So much so that you want to get away from it. So you crawl downward into these vents going below the horrible temple, and suddenly it’s like you’re moving through the innards of an incomprehensible machine that’s thudding away, thud, thud, thud. And as you get deeper, the metal sidings are carved with scrawled ominous curses and slurs directed toward you, and you hear the voices, louder than before, and you somehow know these people are in pain because of you. It keeps getting colder. Color drains from the world. And you see the crowd through the slats of the vents: pale and emaciated men, women, and children from centuries to come, all of them pressed together for warmth in some sort of unending cavern. What clothes they have are torn and ragged. Before you know it, their dirty hands and dirty fingernails lurch through the grates, and they’re reaching for you, tearing at your shirt, moaning terrible things about their suffering and how you made it happen, you made it, and you need to stop this now, now, now. And next they’re ripping you apart, limb from limb, and you are joining them in the gray dimness forever.
Then you wake up in a cold sweat and can’t breathe at all, almost like you’re drowning—I guess from the weight of untold mobs of people leaping on you and ripping you apart. It’s super weird. But your alarm is going off, it’s 5 a.m., and so you get dressed and answer some emails about preparations for the next ChatGPT model.
They all have dark empty holes where their eyes should be, too. I probably should have mentioned that.
I wonder if it’s my diet! Or maybe I shouldn’t be drinking so much Celsius in the afternoon? I guess I could stop looking at my phone before bed. All that blue light could be causing weird dreams. If that’s what it takes to get rid of the legions who scream about lost eons stretching on forever before humanity, I’d certainly give it a try.
Anyway, if anyone out there is having similar dreams, just let me know! I’d love to hear from you at Altman@OpenAI.com. I’m really just curious how many people out there have these dreams and how often you’re seeing the wandering masses who scream at you to “help us, help us, for God’s sake”? For me, it’s every time I close my eyes—whether it’s a power nap or a full night’s sleep—but for you it might be different. Most likely, all of this means nothing, though.
Oh well, back to work!
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