Friday, January 2, 2015

1.2.15 Dreams

Almost everything I read, see, hear or think these days contains some sort of metaphor. Lets start with the obvious, my dream last night.

I am walking down a meticulously maintained grassy path. It is some kind of recreation area lined on either side with very modern, sleek and inviting campers, RVs and trailers. Between every row there is a covered picnic area with tables offering delicious looking foods. Not snacks mind you, more of a Thanksgiving feast set-up and ready for consumption. As I walk down this picturesque scene I feel the grass underfoot and sunshine overhead. I grab a couple of deviled eggs and think to myself (how many layers of dreams are there?) how bucolic, peaceful, clean and perfect this is. Very surreal (this is a dream) like the scene in Big Fish. I get to the end of the row, open a door, grab a tuna sandwich (on wheat with the crust trimmed) and know that this is the end of the line. I remember (because I have been here before?) that outside this door is the rural countryside that is equally spectacular with rolling verdant hills, sporadic majestic oak trees and a smooth dirt road winding through it all. I remember there being a baseball field to the right in need of repair. As soon as I see the field I wake up with an image of a madrona limb on a rocky beach. Three letters form on my dry lips, wtf.

That is metaphor for what exactly?

I remember another dream from last night (I might have slept too long) where I am lost in a huge building trying to find my office. I walk and walk, inside and out, trying to remember where it is, passing several people that I recognize but who are not co-workers or even working for the same company. This goes on until I realize that my office no longer exists, and that I am on a futile and frustrating search for the comfort and security of the past. I wake with eyes wide open shocked by the impact of this dream-state reality.

I don't need an interpretation for this one. Even as I roll left and try to shake its unmistakable message, I blurt aloud, 'Good Lord.'

They say that awareness is the first step towards improvement. One must recognize the opportunity or need for change and growth. Perhaps it is addition by subtraction or maybe some multiplier of exponential potential, the square root of reality.

I do know this: The more active my dreams and the more frequent the metaphors, the better my chances of acting upon them.

In response, maybe I should more completely let go of the past and enjoy every sandwich.

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