Ode to Dreaming

Playing with Life

Picture this.

You are flying through the sky at night.

You feel comfortable, confident even.

You feel a sense of definition as you move, and you notice someone’s swimming pool.

You wouldn’t usually break in… but you are flying. Rules don’t apply here.

After a nice swim, you towel off and take note of your surroundings.

You are dreaming. You now get to choose;

1. where you want to go
2. who you want to be
3. what you want to see.

The dream is yours. You are the only one who can psyche yourself out of your dream. Managing your body in the moment is essential to not waking up.

This was my dream the other night. Breaking into an expensive pool in the hills of Los Angeles. Flying between Malibu and Topanga. Traffic be damned.

The feeling of flying felt intoxicating. Pure freedom, to move and experience as I chose.

I woke up and murmured to my fiancé, I was dreaming of flying around L.A.

There was something very romantic to me about that dream. Like the house of Cass Elliot from the Mama’s and the Papa’s, reportedly haunted. Skipping songs on records and leaving her imprint in the bed.

In this situation, it’s a benevolent haunting. Like ghosts who seek to protect you. They don’t mind if you are scared. They are protectors.

What reflections can we take from this dream?

There is a strategy to life that lives in the metaphor.

We have physical bodies. It is our job to refine them, strengthen them, and stretch them. Take care of them through baths and food. Nurture and revere!

We have our minds. In my opinion, our minds are not only our brains, but the different major organs. Some communicate louder than others. Some only whisper.

Learning what they are saying is the ultimate task.

And last but not least, we have our spirit. This is the invisible web of a world I adore the most. It is communicated through dreams, visions, and epiphanies. Through miracles and moments of true joy.

Its blade is double sided though, and like a sharp knife it sometimes cuts us. Learning to wield the blade is part of the path.

A gift of God may sear unready fingers — Octavia Butler, Earthseed 1993