Dream a Little Dream
These times are demanding everything of us. Perhaps they are the end times, just not the end times as how they are normally conceived. They will however be the end of ideas like six degrees of separation, all degrees for that matter. Here in Dreamland, what I do impacts you. That unruly rule is becoming so transparent it’s beyond comprehension that everyone can’t see it.
We are beyond interwoven threads in one tapestry. That leaves wiggle room that cannot be proven. That gives one leeway to believe that their thread, while threadbare, might yet survive the demolition. Nothing will ever be the same again well that’s always been true. Each moment changes the whole. No two are ever the same.
These are brilliantly deconstructive times. Whatever fear remains will simmer and bubble to the top. We see it everywhere, the boiling pot, the bubbling over. It’s hard to miss these days and that can be a bit disconcerting.
Speed limits don’t seem to exist anymore. Courteous drivers are becoming quite rare. Drive 10 miles over the speed limit and you are the turtle not the hare. People pull knives when they feel slighted rather than meet the moment and their anger, fear and sorrow, willing to do anything to protect their sense of autonomy, while wanting nothing more than to stop feeling separate and alone. Choosing sides, protesters continue erupting into violence, fueled by that same convoluted sense of belonging and separation. The cat chasing its tail has fallen into the bubbling cauldron and seemingly doesn’t want to get out.
Folks have become so ensconced, enrapt, enraged, entranced by beliefs they cannot see anything but their own projections.
Yes. We are right in the middle of the bubbling pot of deconstruction.
Is everyone waking up? Will we get through this difficult time? I don’t know what’s going to happen in the physical dream world. It doesn’t feel like everyone will wake up but I wouldn’t count that out. We all awaken the moment the cord that holds us in form breaks, regardless of the state in which we exit Dreamland.
Life, the true guru, the only sage, has its enduring enchanting ways. It tends to break the spells that bind us one way or the other. It opens eyes and hearts in undeniably fascinating ways when the magic spell of separation fails, when it falls apart, revealing what is really Here, always Now.
Few dream lucidly, knowing they are dreaming. Fewer still know they are being dreamed while appearing to be wide awake. As all dreams do, the dream shifts and changes taking new forms. The dream characters do as they are dreamed to do. Perhaps this is the part of the dream where the characters learn life is out of their control. It sure seems to be that phase of the dream.
What would shift and change for you if you knew beyond doubt that you are a character in The Dream? Naturally, you might wonder what happens when the dream ends, as you know it does. You’ve seen characters come and go. You’ve watched as nations dreamed into existence wither and die. That’s what the bubbling pot is all about — not wanting to die, not wanting the character to walk off stage and disappear.
Once the you lets go, once the idea of control bursts like fireworks on Independence Day, new surprises are in store. It’s not the end times, at least not as you thought. It is simply the end of separation. You have always been the Great Illuminator, the Holy Pyrotechnician, the Sacred Display Artist, This That Only Is, the Dreamer and Dreamland. Once that first step is taken, and I grant you that its a big one, one so big no one can choose it, you will truly understand what you are. Until then dream a little dream sweet one.