The Dreamer and the Dream

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“Crazy Horse dreamed and went into the world where there is nothing but the spirits of all things. That is the real world that is behind this one, and everything we see here is something like a shadow from that one.”  ~  Black Elk

“Recounting the strange is like telling one’s dreams: one can communicate the events of a dream, but not the emotional content, the way that a dream can colour one’s entire day.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

A woof in the night, and then the dog proceeded to keep it up for a while longer. Because of his barking I started to attempt a visualization of coyotes weaving through sage brush and around the corners of houses. No vision came. Perhaps I’d already had too much coffee, and was too far awake to accomplish such a task. My loss, I am sure. But the clue did come soon; the next time I went outside to see the stars. A single kind of yelp, a coyote quip, not far beyond the garden fence. One yelp, no more. It roused a sleepy smile and I was satisfied. Then there were the meteors. Three of them. Two of them breathtakingly fast in descent. They made me think of this tiny planet and when I got the ‘tiny’ part into focus the rest unfolded before me, like a virtual whiteboard with scrawls from Neil DeGrasse Tyson elegantly explaining the scope of the vastness before my eyes. But it was not just my eyes, it was also my imagination, fed by the actuality before my eyes. That’s a big place out there. And how many billions of galaxies are there? And that’s just in this Universe alone. How about them other ones? I believe that there are other Universes. And I believe that there are levels of reality in this Universe that we ain’t even begun to perceive. And then there are dreams. Here’s that smile again, and yet my face feels numb. I don’t know why. And yet I feel the carryover from the Dreamtime. I had a big night before I even woke up, before coffee, before meteors and coyotes. Now, where are all of these eccentric perceptions coming from? Why I in such a spacey place this morning? I think it was the hug yesterday from my friend Wendy. She gives good hugs. But that is not the point. There are levels down deep within certain hugs. She is one of those eternal soul friends. I was at work and I broke protocol when I saw her by stepping away from the register and then around the counter to get a hug. I asked her how she was doing, and when her head was on my shoulder, her breath warm and soft, she said that it is Autumn, and that the season is so beautiful, and that she loves it. I love that woman, girl, whatever. She is 40-something, married to a gem of a man, with two lovely children. I love them all. This is eternal friend stuff. Sweet, subjective, dream stuff. Wisps of the Dreamtime rising up into waking life to remind me that it’s a big place out there. Yes. Oh, doth thou think me to be daffy? Listen, I am a Dreamer, and when the dream gets good, when the good stuff unfolds from the Implicate Order, I fold; I become flushed with gratitude. It’s a big place out there and I love it when out there happens here. She was right, the season is beautiful.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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