Quick Notes on a Dream [Draft]

I have been dreaming far too richly.  Dense, substantial dreams.  Thoughtful dreams that feel like I really am going to a different place in my experience.  The past maybe.

Do I look like a man upon whom time has taken a toll?   No, I think it is only a slight attack of time that has me.  Time and memory.  These comforting dreams of which I write, with their strange, gentle sadness, seem too close to me now.  That’s all.

And I think I am figuring it out.

These dreams stand out because they utterly lack frustration.  They are emptied of any worry.  And I dream that I am entirely present and seen.  The dreams make sense maybe because I want them to make sense.  The melancholy is a welcome refuge.  Calm.

That is quite unlike my real attachments, which feel distance and receding.  The more I try to recapture them, the further they abandon me.

I have been caught in a trap, caught in this almost surreal frustration which I cannot square with my experience.  I want to fix things and reason with irrationality.  But I can’t.  It isn’t my problem to correct.  The dreams, on the other hand, feel as if they answer that frustration.  Or at least they give me an opportunity to see an answer.

When something really matters, it is difficult to let a mistake go unanswered.  But often pushing to correct a mistake hides that mistake.  The pushing becomes the issue.  Stubbornness doesn’t help.  That won’t turn back the clock.  There is only going forward.

Perhaps two paths that have separated will meet again.  And perhaps while along that path the mistake will expose itself and be corrected.

Where there is time, there is hope.  And in time I might be seen and understood.  My dreams might catch up and meet me here again.  I am still here.

 

“Each of us had a dream the same night, and each dream had a meaning of its own.” — Genesis

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