Dreaming the Dreamer’s Dream of the Dreamer

My dreams can be vivid. Engaging. Alluring. Thus, I tend to spend too much time in bed riffling through them and having a good ol’ time. That is when they don’t turn on my like a vicious dog, which many a dream has done. Then I awaken with a start—sweaty and shaken—usually shouting aloud, “What the hell was that all about? Was that really necessary?” Of course, I never receive an answer to those rattling blasts. But then, I already know the truth of it.

Clearly, according to both legend as well as the science of psychology, what I witness in that fluid realm of mind-flutter is merely my deeper self unhinged—untethered to the conventions and behavioral patterns of the “waking world,” so called. I spend my nights attempting to get at the heart of my issues. It is as though I was on the psychoanalyst’s couch and he was coaching me through some odd but alleviating metaphor, a hypnotic hallucination that reveals and unleashes, hence brings to vision those parts of myself that, in broad daylight, I refuse to attend.

I say refuse. Oftentimes, though,  these nightly jaunts through a timeless, mutating landscape are mere clarifications of things I know, but could better grasp seen another way. Last night’s dream provides a case in point.

This dream, which came right before arising, spotlighted a pair of twins with super powers. I was one of the twins. We had one grand adventure, which I cannot now recall. Yet, at the end of the adventure, I found myself climbing a wall, at the top of which, my twin sat waiting. The wall was short at the outset. But I saw that as not much of a climb, not much fun. So I extended it, and the cliff grew in height as I forced it to do so with my thoughts.

Climbing in Granite Gorge, CO - 2007

The cliff was of dirt, not stone, offering little in way of a secure grip. In fact, I think I recall attempting to turning it to stone so that the climb would be more certain. It may or may not have, I don’t remember. But I continued the climb for the sheer fun and challenge of it.

During the climb, the wall seemed to change grade and complexity. Some moments found the grade steep and sheer. Others found the wall with ample precipice and grip. Either way, I never found the climb overly taxing, just fun to do.

Just before I reached the perch upon which my twin sat smiling down at me, a large, Sikorsky-style helicopter was flitting to a landing. I say flitting because it’s rotors were not turning and it was as though it was flitting like a leaf in wind. One of it’s rotors appeared to be locked perpendicular to the fuselage axis and was servings as a wing. While watching this flitting landing with amusement, I said laughingly to my twin, “Look! Our bambulance has been converted to a fixed-wing aircraft.”

The aircraft was painted as though it was an air-ambulance, hence the joking term “bambulance,” a humorous association from my past that I’ve neither time nor inclination to recount here. And it appeared that the aircraft belonged to us, the twins, as an integral part of our mission to save.

Twins? Super powers? Mission? Save?

This little piece of a dream lasted only a few moments, but many potentially intriguing things were conveyed. Trick is, can they be teased out?

Who were these omnipotent twins of which I was a bookend? No doubt, twin aspects of myself. They seemed Pan-like and playful. Yet, ever-ready for action. Since no action was apparently to be had, I invented the wall. Something challenging to do.

Hmm. Here’s some thought. Go with me . . .

All aspects of me are omnipotent. But, for some reason I have decided to split myself into two aspects. One rests calmly at journey’s end, high atop an imagined mountain. The other is so enamored with the idea of drama and challenge so as to invent it where it does not actually exist. The ambulance is a joke. Without its rotors turning, such a vehicle would drop like a stone. Yet ours fluttered from the sky like a leaf borne on a breeze. Another invention. Unnecessary, but interesting, alluring. A technical abstraction, yet with a noble purpose, saving those in peril. No one in peril was ever seen, thus the purpose was, indeed, no more than abstraction. Yet, it felt important [read: special?] to be at the ready when called upon.

Reviewing this last paragraph I can see certain affiliations with my own life (which, what else would this demonstrate?). My mission, at present, though not couched in such terms, is, from a Teacher of God’s perspective, to save. At least, to help truly. Yet, according to ACIM, this helping is little more than sheer fantastical exercise, like climbing the wall since the whole works in the ego domain is no more than phantasmagorical dream. The truth of myself is that I am already at the peak, watching the whole works in calm, detached amusement. Impossible things are projected before my vision while some split-off aspect of myself feigns heroics. Interesting, though, how I more readily identified with the climber than the sitter. Still too inured by illusory shenanigans to just sit idly by smiling. After all, what’s “special” about that?

Wow. No wonder I tend to sleep too long. Fascinating, captain.

Yet, the time has come to wake up. Best to do so before I’m forced to deal with the “alarm.”

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~ by a.b.johnson on 02/11/2010.

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