I guess I had to rewire my mind before I knew I could take another step. My shoes wouldn’t allow it. The shoelaces laid tattered across the wooden deck, almost asking me to take a dive in the ocean, slowly trying to squeeze through the cracks in search of a cleansed sole.
It was 4 a.m. and I could feel the rising energy in the East just above my right shoulder. The dock was dark with only that last light on the pier lit. I didn’t know why I was here, nor where I was, all I knew is that I was here and I was starting to sense the presence of something else.
Spider sense, check, as the salty mist from the waves crawled up my neck and almost amplified the hair lifting feeling I had going on….something was close, but my eyes weren’t exactly tuned to this current reality just yet. All I could make out was the end of the dock and its swinging lamp crying out for WD-40.
I turned around to see the outline of a far off mountain range lit up by that wonderful yellow moon. I knew I wasn’t entirely off the planet I was born to, but somehow I had forgotten just how these feet turned into “these feet.” Turning back I focused back to the swinging lamp at the end of the pier, and there it was. A dark shadow held its position just beyond the swinging light’s reach. I hadn’t seen this thing before, so as a dumbstruck traveler, I pushed my sluggish feet past their rooted soles.
The wind was stronger now, yet the ocean was calm and happily undisturbed. It seemed as though it was having a fun time with the moon lit reflections, pushing them up through the water soaked wooden boards of this old pier. With each step, I felt another whisper of air behind my ears. “Go forward without worry.” What was this crazy dream? Who are these voices? What the hell is this tall dark figure at the end of this pier? And with the arrival of this questioning tsunami in my mind, another strange thing occurred. This time a little more chilling…..
I heard a loud cry above, a screech that pierced my cold skin in every pore that owned a hair. My vibrations started rising with this screech. I had heard this creature before only as a kid, or was it just a kid memory? What came first? The child or the memory? My feet stumbled as I jammed my left toe into a raised board. My face was now inspecting the exact moisture content of the wood pier. I was confused to no end. I had a mouthful of wood, soggy socks, untied shoes, a neck full of standing hair, a screeching being somewhere in the dark clouds above, a dark figure at the end of this pier….which I still had no idea of its place or time, but somehow I knew the time of day…….4 a.m. Ok. I had to start feeling without thinking. I could feel the sun’s presence, even though it was dark.
Slugging my legs back into a vertical position, I raised my eyes into the night. I opened my palms to the sky as a light rain began to start its gift. I felt the sun lining within my lower back, turning its rays inward and through my spine, yet rising and giving me a warm sensation that was two bumps away from bliss. My hands almost felt as though an invisible plate had grown through my palms, now collecting the water. I continued forward toward the end of the pier with my eyes closed and my shoes delicately moving forward.
I reached the end within a moment’s time, as the swinging lamp cautioned my presence to a nearby cliff and again a dark figure. I kept my eyes closed for this was too much to think about…..the swinging lamp keeping the color yellow and orange in the corner’s of my eyes. I heard a voice, not through my ears but through my heart. ” Keep still, for you are near what others fear.” I asked through the silence if this had anything to do with the screech from above, the dark figure responded with a soft, “No, your mind’s perception is distracting your inner light and its call.”
I couldn’t think anymore, and I had a feeling this is what the dark figure was here to help with. Turning my thoughts to a puddy of swinging light I let them settle to a silent calmness. At this moment the light stopped swinging and the light on the other side of my eyelids was now constant. God, what did I eat before? The dark figure shifted its weight to a point where I could hear something fall gently on the pier floor. The voice said, “Open your eyes slowly with a clear mind and an open heart.”
I did so, squinting for the swinging light had transformed into a sun, just rising above the horizon in the most splendid sunrise I had ever seen. The ocean closest to me was a deep purple, with hints of a glowing red and flickers of orange sparks, all comprising the white lit road back to the source. My eyes adjusted and my heart flickered back on, now I could sense my heartbeat in every cell of my body.
The dark figure was gone, and as if my presence had created it, a flap of two giant wings signaled the arrival and landing of a giant golden eagle. The great bird was eye level with me, as it used the side rail to peer through my still blinking eyes. Cocking its head back and forth, it ruffled its feathers a few times before it settled into its perch.
“Where am I?” I asked this giant golden being. The eagle turned to the sun, and then turned back to focus on my childlike wonder. “You are at the horizon of new beings.” I shook the dirt off my chest and kicked my shoes into the ocean. “Excuse me, giant feathered friend, you can talk? Also, the horizon of new beings? Does this suggest I have died?”
The bird with a closed beak, looked at me and placed its words now within my head, “You were never really “alive” in the first place, therefore, how can you die if you were never alive? And this horizon of new beings is your creation through your intent. Your soul has called for us to respond, the universe shall provide, for you are a part of that provision.” Great, I thought to myself, not only does this bird drop an intellectual bomb on me, it tells me that I am now alone on the edge of an endless ocean. “You are not alone,” snubbed the bird, “You just haven’t let your mind go yet and cleared your soul.”
Another great, here I am in a stoned confusion, and I’m getting intellectually spanked by a golden eagle. “Ok,” I thought, ” So where to now? If I am on the horizon of new beings, does this mean I have to invent a mode of transportation to get anywhere or shall I just make my new hut on this very pier?” The eagle squawked in a determined protest. “You are here because your soul asked the universe for a new dream.”
At this moment memories flooded over me in a suffocating attack. I saw murder, I saw pollution, I felt the cries of the children, I screamed in horror. An eagle’s cry brought me out of this inner mind cycle…..I took a deep breath in the remembrance of the past lives I had seen and lived. It washed through me, through the cracks in the pier and into the space beyond.
“Will I ever know everything? Can my existence become that same spirit which resides within those feathers of yours?” I asked, shaking off the nightmares.
The eagle shook its head as it opened up its wings in a wonderful display of symmetry and gold. “When you understand that your mind is only an imagination of your existence, then you will truly experience love within the universe for which it was created. Let your creation flow from your soul for it is this communication that speaks directly to the creator. Dream on my friend….”
Watching the sun lit tips of its feathers flap off into existence, I slowly felt the warmth of the sun from the inside out and at that moment, I knew I was ready to create within this universe that which I was meant for……to remind you to dream.



20 Comments

Was it a dream…or a dream…?
Nice, though, and evocative of something better, though I never know that I particularly subscribe the ‘your mind is only an imagination of your existence’. Mebbe I have no idea what it actually means. ;o)
But the Golden Eagle reminded me a bit of this dream I had awhile ago, not a clear message at all, but mebbe Morpheus wantin’ me to Get It. (Slow am I.)
Rec’d, chebetts. Keep on dreamin’ is right for sure.
Not to mention I’m an idiot, to boot. Wrong link; that was for M. Cavlan. This is the Dream.
You will eventually make the leap from believing that you are made of flesh and blood to knowing that you are immortal spirit and consciousness, if not in this lifetime, then in another. The universe is patient and there is no hurry.
Your body and your mind are just a vessel you inhabit, as you must have one to experience this physical dimension of space-time. Your brain is just a tool that your spirit and consciousness uses to create a personality that thinks in terms of the finite and polarized conceptual language that is the universal language of this dimension, a language you must use to communicate in this dimension.
But it’s all a dream and part of you knows that.
Symbolism and magic are the language of the soul and Brother Chebetts knows and uses it to masterful effect.
Hi Chebetts.
Love your use of symbolism and magic.
Leaves me feeling calm and centered.
Namaste
Recommended.
Beautiful! A resurrection story, in way.
“Will I ever know everything?”
I think that the joy is in the seeking.
rec’d. Absolutely beautiful use of symbolism, thanks.
It’s all a dream me thinks. I have really been diggin’ around the ole soul and that Toltec stuff has really stuck with me in that sense of that “we are all dreaming.” I guess that was the basis of all of it, and as I write more, I’m trying to figure out how to dream again, ya know? Like I’ve been trapped in a body that dreams all the time, however those dreams are lined within the current nightmare we’re all stuck in, reminded of almost every hour by the media or some other medium.
I could write just for you 3 and consider myself an accomplished author the rest of my life. It always puts a smile on my face, so thank you all.
And Wendy, I read your dream, and I loved it. I love how you capture so much detail, do you keep a dream journal or something of this nature? I started one a few weeks ago, because I have intensely weird dreams that combine a lot of things….now I just have to figure out what it all is trying to say? Just like you, there is a message within it all, we just have to be ready to accept it I guess.
All the love.
And to me these thoughts of yours, are exactly what I’m trying to read from other people. Ya know? Really understand exactly what people feel and believe, I mean come on…..we’re here for a greater purpose than to work and retire, have a family, a car, a house, bitch at the invading gov. etc. Something deeper is within and omnipresent, and reading your thoughts like that also gives me a deeper understanding in its own sense of peace. I could not agree with you more.
Continuing to dream and ask those deep questions…..all the love Mason.
Thank you CS, it truly is an adventurous experience we have before ourselves. I like to think that we’re all here for a reason and the deeper soul within wants us to learn things in this body / life. Hence, your words exactly, it’s the learning, the pursuit of it all that truly makes life’s intricacies wordless. It’s like looking up at the stars above and wondering…..and then turning your head down, to the dirt, and staring….and of course wondering….haaaaa. Thank you kind lady, and good night, the dream state calls. Enjoy unser Donnerstag.
Liebe.
Good to see your fonts again, Chebetts.
Dreams are always in the language of the heart and of the subconscious and hard for us to access and understand because of our cultural bias towards logic and reason. Dreams stand outside of logic, in its usual sense, and always do they carry a component of “feeling-chords”… like a piano chord only with numerous “feelings” .. and they are so complex at times. It would be a “cacophony” if it were a sound that could be heard.
I have wondered at times, if I dream the dreams that have been gifted by the Dreamers. . . Or if I am the Dreamer talking to myself. Not that it matters, I guess.
And maybe, if we all dream together, the nightmare will come to and end. Gently. Softly. As soft as the sunlight that lit up that golden eagles wings.
rec’d
Ah, you know I always love the sound of condescension in the morning!
I don’t keep a journal now (rude to turn a light on at 3:30 or so when Mr. wendydavis is sleepin’). ;o)
But I used to, and did dream workshops, loved the Gestalt dreamin’ ones. I found, at their suggestion, that just a few key phrases were enough. Then I’d have total recall of the dreams, even years later.
Now…I’m oddly and frustratingly cut off from them. When I wake, I can see some of them, but as soon as I sit up to get out of bed: Poof! They evaporate, save for a few still shots. Each night after my thank-you prayers for the day, I auto-suggest remembering them fully, but still, Morpheus has been goofin’ around with me most nights for the past months. And it makes life a little like playin’ a piano with one hand: you can do it, but the depth is gone, some of the complexity.
There are some other things available instead, though, so for now I’m going with them (I get stuck in music or a poem or thought…and run with it,even though it seems like I’m certifiable at times.) ;o)
As a kid, I had lots of precognitive dreams, but you can imagine why I quit telling them to others. When they’d live them through with me after the telling…it made them uncomfortable.
Anyhoo; I love dreamin’! I can run and walk and skip and do all the things I used to do; even some flying-like things that don’t qualify as the flying you need as a start to learning lucid dreaming. Folks who are casual about flying in dreams make me nuts! ;o)
“I could write just for you 3 and consider myself an accomplished author the rest of my life. It always puts a smile on my face, so thank you all.”; please include me and make the number 4 for I really do enjoy your writing. This diary did invoke remembrance of:
“To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s Contumely, [F:poor]
The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay, [F:disprized]
The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment, [F:pith]
With this regard their Currents turn awry, [F:away]
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remembered.[1]
Bottomline, afaic, is that which is transcendent can’t be explained or related to others on an intellectual basis. I might say ‘a rose’ and that will bring forth an image in another’s consciousness but that image isn’t the rose and all the descriptive language that can be uttered still will not be a rose.
But it is fun and challenging to try. :->)
And a response for #2. Don’t know if this practice will help and maybe you have already explored it but fwiw:
http://lucidity.com/
Didn’t see you comment on my last diary so here’s something I learned in the hospital; there are actually 4 stages of rem sleep and during them, the body is actually paralyzed from the neck down with all the body’s energy going into the head:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapid_eye_movement_sleep
http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=9811
So it might also be that the dream retention is not what it used to be as your rem sleep has changed as you age; just a swag.
And not sure why but this group came to mind in reading what you wrote.
I apologize for insulting you, as it was not my intention to do so.
In fact, I respect and love you and would never intentionally insult or hurt you.
Please forgive me.
Namaste
Yep; didn’t see it; study the science of dreaming, but m always disappointed; might look at medterms, but I’m not much older than the dream I gave chebetts, lol! Not age, though I do be an Olde Crone.
And thanks for the Flying Burrito Bros. Nice. ;o)
Apology accepted, Mason.
How can I say this without offending you or others on the thread?
Mmmm. When y’all urge the rest of us to let go of our egos as a huge step to realizations that we are only what we create…but suggest that you are there, we are not….it doesn’t seem all that disentangled from ego to me.
Give me those of us who know how far we have to go, how much we have to learn, how far we can fall, and often do…even while we intuit and maybe see and yearn for other realms, possibilities and places of better consciousness (and I won’t say ‘higher’ here; it would negate the point). ;o)
Sometimes I’m put in mind of Shirley MacLaine declaring that people who are suffering materially are ‘blocking’ their energies. You may not think it’s the same, but I’d rather a plentitude (I may have made up the word) of humans would become practically enlightened enough to ensure that children would no longer die of thirst and hunger and other deprivation than…be taught that they are the authors of their own destinies.
You may see no conflict between the two, but I do, or at least some disconnect. And as I said, it’s hard to turn pain into just another sensation, and transform it into something else.
And peace to you. I hope I said any of this right.
But thanks for granting me all the time in the world to get it, LOL!
Thank you for the kind thoughts, yes, I do wish, hope and dream that this current fiasco will softly drift onwards toward a new direction and awareness.
I’m just trying to remember how to dream again, you know, the one that does intertwine through the subconscious, without “our level of thinking,” and quite beyond.
#4 it is!!! Or maybe you’re #1, #2, #3 or all the above. Thank you sir, for the kindness and the poem.
Mornin’ Wendy.
Thanks for your response.
I’m not there yet. Sometimes I’m on the path and sometimes I’m not. Sometimes I think I can see the destination and sometimes I feel like the path I am traveling is the destination. Other times I feel utterly and hopelessly lost.
My intuition tells me that there are as many paths are there are souls seeking . . . the indescribable.
I do not mean to be arrogant or condescending to anyone and I do not think of myself as better than anyone. All I want to do is to know myself and be of service to the life force and to my fellow humans.
You have taught me a lesson, since I came off as condescending to you when it was not my intention to do so.
Thanks.
Namaste
What a lovely response, Mason; thank you for it. Sincerely, I know it wasn’t your intention to seem like you had the corner on the answers or process, but it’s often where we get tripped up, announcing How It Is, compared to ‘This May Be So’, and I started being alert to it when I was 13, seriously.
‘There be dragons there’, imo, especially during this time when we need to be encouraging each other to blossom in wisdom, considering new paradigms for living, working, cooperating, accessing new ways of just being better humans and planetary stewards.
And you *are* being of service to the life force and humanity; and you’ve just shown you’re adaptable to crafting your message better. Wow. ;o)
In the spirit of laughing at oneself being fabulous fun, after all the high-toned dream valuing and interpreting, remembering, here is one of the dreams the Prankster personality of the Morpheus duality gave me early this morning:
In a twist on the ‘I dreamt I showed up at the prom wearing only a Corn Flakes box, I was in an apartment or house when I realized all my clean clothes were in my little red car parked in a garage outside the door.
I opened the door partway, saw no one was in the vast garage, and I could likely make it to my car dressed in my jeans and nothing else. As a dream might have it, my body was much more svelte than it actually is any more (lol!), but I was shy and modest as I’ve always been. I made a beeline for the car, when all of a sudden, in through another door came a man carrying two cartons of what somehow knew were frozen mallowmars, whatever they are.
I turned my back, but clearly The Man (and honest to gawd, he was the man who played the plumber in Holly Hunter’s ‘Home for the Holidays’) knew I was naked from the waist up, and goddamit, I didn’t want him seeing my breasts! So I crouched down while he approached my car, and went through all sorts of slow-mo contortions and molasses-slow-movements trying to get back into the building without giving him a peek show.
Soooo….that’s just about how high I was last night, Mason. Lord, love a duck. ;o)
Yep; we’re all in this together, and lotsa raods, lotsa paths, some crazier than others. (I ballast those most of the time.)