I should probably confess something right up front. This book began its life under a different name. For a long time, I called it Dragon Dreams—because that’s how it came to me. Through dreams. Through visions. Through the strange cellular gnosis that seems to travel with certain bloodlines.

I’ve since come to understand that it wasn’t just dreams I was accessing. It was dragon blood. My DNA, mythic and strange, was offering me flashbacks. Not just of lives I had lived, but of stories encoded in the creatures I had once consumed. Because yes—dragons remember everything they eat.

Now the title is simpler. Bolder. More inclusive.
Bē Anml.

Because this isn’t just about dragons. It’s about all animals. And maybe you, too.

What started as metaphor has, over time, become something else. Something real. Some of these stories may feel symbolic, but for me, they are remembrances. Not fantasies. Not allegories. But cellular truths wrapped in mythic wrappers. Reptilian. Mammalian. Prophetic.

I’ve recognized the pigs in my own dreams and memories—and they feel like kin to the swine bloodlines George Orwell must have been remembering from parallel realities.

The pigs who overtook Jones’ farm were not fiction. They were foreshadowing.

I feel the same swine supremacy vibes from the wild pigs on the ranch I now help steward. They root and scheme and multiply with an eerie confidence, as if destiny itself were coded in their snouts. It’s like the myth has broken through into 3D, mud-streaked and hoofed, and very much alive.

That’s when I knew this gospel wasn’t just metaphor anymore. It was manifestation.

So yes, we laugh. We roast. We remember. We let the snake speak again. We let the elephant walk with rhythm. We welcome the dragon back into the garden.

And we recognize that the blood we carry is not a curse. It’s a key.

“This book isn’t a doctrine. It’s a scroll. Not a religion, but a rhythm. A remembering of everything we were before we were domesticated.”

If you’ve found this book, maybe it’s because the dream found you.

And maybe that dream is ancient.
And maybe it’s waking up.

With memory, humor, and feral love,

Matthew

A memory of A Snake meeting Drāgo for the first time (allegedly)

The preface to Bē Anml invites readers into a mythic remembering—not doctrine but rhythm. Through “dragon-blood” memory and living symbols (the serpent who speaks, the elephant who walks, pigs as foreshadow), it suggests our lineages carry keys, not curses. With humor and feral love, it reframes Eden as alive right now and calls us to wake an ancient dream already stirring.
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