An Old Dream

I had mentioned in a previous post that a lot had been happening for me "spiritually" lately. I won't go into much detail but what is happening now makes me think of a dream I had a long time ago. It was one of those dreams that was so vivid and meaningful that it sticks with you and becomes part of the story of your life.

The dream itself was no more than an image. In the dream a grey robed and hooded figure stood half leaning back against a long wooden table. His face, if it was there at all, left no trace in memory. The table he was leaning on was covered with stacks and stacks of mostly very large, hard bound books. The room itself was small and rustic. Stacks of books similar to those on the table crowded every corner of the small room. The only other remarkable feature about the room was a fireplace in which a fire was blazing. The fireplace was to the left of the table and was clearly visible despite the large stacks of books.

In his right hand the hooded figure held a book upright and open facing me. Across both pages was inscribed a single word: JNANA. With his left hand he pointed to the book.

The Plan

I grew up in a large family as the middle child. Although I was the middle child I was always lumped in with my younger siblings as one of what my parents called, "the little guys." I remember how unfair this felt even at a very young age. I was about five years old when "The Plan" was first hatched.

My parents went out for the night and left all the kids at home with a babysitter. The babysitter seemed perfectly normal despite having agreed to watch seven unruly children for a whole night. We were all watching television and it was almost bedtime. Or rather, it was almost bedtime for the "little guys". The baby sitter started rounding up my two younger brothers and me. I must not have been very happy about the situation because the babysitter wanted to make a deal. My five year old mind found her deal extremely appealing. The gist of this "Plan" was that I would pretend to go to bed with my brothers as normal, but as soon as they were asleep I would sneak out of bed. Then I could come back and watch television with the "big guys" (my sister was included in this) and the babysitter. Well it worked out marvelously for me and the babysitter. I marched to my room dutifully with the other "little guys", although inside I knew that I was no longer one of them. I fought off the thick gooey sleep that was trying to pin me down and slowly, oh so slowly, slipped out of the queen sized bed I shared with my two brothers. Every squeak sounded like a gunshot as I tried to get out without waking them. I finally succeeded and went back to the living room. I remember how bright the lights were when I came back out. I had a great feeling of freedom right alongside the persistent, hypnotic call of sleep.I sat on the floor in her lap and despite a valiant struggle I fell back to sleep. The babysitter had won and got me to sleep with very little fuss. Little did she know that she had planted a seed in me that would grow and mutate.

It was a couple of years later that The Plan would rise again. The situations were very similar to before. The "little guys" had to go to bed early, even on the weekends. This left the big kids awake to watch scary movies and drink all of the soda pop and eat the treats. I felt outraged by the unfairness of the situation. It was in this outrage that I remembered The Plan. Only this time I felt that I needed to bring the freedom of The Plan to others. I explained The Plan to my two younger brothers and from then on it was a standing order. Despite this fact we would always confirm with each other that The Plan was on:"Are we doing The Plan tonight?""Yeah, The Plan tonight."In most cases we would be unable to stay awake and The Plan would be lost to sleep and dream. With The Plan there was strength in numbers. If one of us managed to stay awake we made a solemn promise to the others to wake them up too. There were times, glorious times, when The Plan was executed to perfection. I remember feasting on chips and Coca-Cola while watching late night sci-fi and horror movies.Now that I'm older I find it interesting that I still do The Plan. I don't call it that any more but the pattern is the same. I wait until everyone else is asleep and then treat myself to whatever goodies are in the house. I watch all of the movies and television that my kids can't (or my wife won't) watch. It still has the sweet taste of a secret shared among a precious few.

To this day when I get together with my brother we always end up talking about The Plan. We remember it fondly. We also remember our co-conspirator, our brother, who died too young. Now I am thinking that maybe, somewhere or somewhen, he is doing his own cosmic version of The Plan. I hope he remembers to wake up his brother so that we can enjoy the goodies together.

Drowning or How I Learned to Swim

Growing up I was a timid child. It may have had something to do with having a lot of older brothers. I remember that for a couple of years we lived in a subdivision close to a lake. In the summer we would often go swimming at the public beach there. I was probably 8 years old and didn't yet know how to swim. It was a bit humiliating because even my younger brothers were already playing in the deep water off the end of the dock. I remember watching them play as I played by myself, jumping off the dock again and again into the water where I knew I could touch the bottom.

In the end I had to confront my fear of the deep water, but not by choice. I jumped into the water again for probably the thousandth time. I fully intended to jump into the shallow water, but somehow I misjudged and ended up in water that was above my head. I began to panic because I didn't know how to swim. I came up for air and tried to call for help . .. once, twice, three times. Each time I swallowed more water. I soon realized that no one could see or hear me and that I was about to drown.

I went under again and inside me a commanding voice said "SWIM!". I immediately began to swim under the water and didn't stop until I was laying on my back on the beach.

When you have kids . . .

weird things happen sometimes.

Picture this: you're alone in the house at night. Everyone else is fast asleep. You are dilligently doing whatever it is you're doing. It is calm and relaxed. Then, out of nowhere, you hear something like this:

"Tickle Elmo again!"

The funny thing is that it's not coming from your kid's rooms or from the baby monitor, it is coming from the toybox. For no apparent reason your child's toys have decided to start speaking to you. Elmo wants to be tickled!

Of course you can rationalize it away: the toys were just settling or there's a storm outside or the butterfly effect from a quantum state change bubbled up a level like a meal at White Castle.

But you are never really sure. Usually they don't keep talking . .. usually!

MWAHAHAHA!

Who am I?

When I was much younger, maybe 12 or 13 years old I got very, very sick with mononucleosis. Unfortunately I did not even get it from a girl. My glands swelled up so bad it was really painful even to swallow. As a consequence I became severely dehydrated. At the same time I was feverish and sick to my stomach. I remember sleeping for long stretches and waking up completely disoriented, hardly remembering where I was or how long I had been sleeping.

Once I woke up from just such a period of "rest" and dragged myself into the bathroom. When I looked in the mirror I had one of the strangest feelings I have ever experienced. I saw my reflection and did not recognize it as me. I know I must have looked terrible by that point but this was something completely different. The reflection in the mirror was not me! The feeling was so unusual that I remember it to this day.