To Die Dreaming (Morir Soñando)

Hola Everybody,
I wrote the following a while back. It’s part of an unfinished short story that tracks the travels of two lovers. Morir Soñando is also a Dominican refreshment. In any case, I have a funny relationship to my dreams (none of which I ever remember) and I can say I write while dreaming... 

Morir Soñando

Dreaming men are haunted men.
-- Stephen Vincent Benet

… The thought of her beauty awakens me sometimes, from the middle of dreams I can’t remember. It’s not the image of her face, the softness of her skin, but just the sudden awareness of her total beauty -- that first strike before any of the details become clear -- that jolts me awake and leaves me longing on the broken shoals of my bed.

For a brief moment, I’m upset she’s not here with me, but the anger gradually subsides into longing, and I stand and pace, haunting the darkness of my room, thinking of possibilities. Gradually, I come to the awareness that there’s no reason for anger, only choices. I ponder all this for what seems like hours and it’s the thought of her beauty that makes me lie back on my bed, weighing me down so that I plummet through the thin fabric of wake and sleep and drown in the middle of dreams I don’t remember…

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My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Dream Woman

Hola mi Gente...

Since I wrote about dreams yesterday, I thought I should add an actual example of how dreams can work. I wrote the following a couple of years ago... 

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Yemaya

The Goddess

… At every turn I am met
with her brilliance.
As of the Earth,
the Clay,
the Rivers and Streams.

I was saved by a dream… Literally.

Not a figure of speech. I rarely ever remember my dreams and maybe this is a good thing, considering what the fuck kinda shit dwells in my subconscious. However, there was one unforgotten dream some years ago that had a tremendous impact on my life. In fact, after that dream I was never the same person -- changed me completely. And, get this, I don’t even remember its details!

Nonsense, you say? Read on… 

Several years ago, my life was imploding. Everything that I had worked towards, or valued, seemed to be unraveling before my eyes. My committed relationship of about eight years was on the rocks. Actually, it was barely breathing, it was waiting for someone to mercifully shoot it. I was in my senior year of my undergraduate studies and I was so burnt out that I couldn’t retain any more information. A straight A student, my grades were plummeting and I was having a hard time finding meaning in it all. To complicate matters, I couldn’t get a job to save my life.

It was a strange time, looking back, because though I realized things were coming to a head on many fronts, it seemed as if I were just floating around there for a bit. As if it were all happening, and I was there witnessing all of this, but unable to do anything about it.

The relationship dissolved (amicably, at least), I barely escaped my senior year, and had gone on to a prestigious graduate school which I had to leave for a job and that’s where it all started. I was working for an East Harlem non-profit as a life skills trainer where I met a woman. A co-worker, she was half my age, and I really didn’t think she was interested, but eventually she let her feelings known. Actually, what she said was, “Don’t you ever get it?” during dinner once. Yes, I can be dense and sometimes I don’t “get it.”

Anyway, I’m dating this really young lady and at first, my attraction to her was minimal. In fact, I was really all that into her. I mean, she was pretty, intelligent, and we shared common interests. We spent some time going to museums, discussing poetry, discussing books, taking walks, etc. Still, I never felt any overwhelming feelings of attraction.

But I digress, I need to make my point.

Well, one thing led to another and she let on that her feelings for me were more than casual. I think the “L” word was mentioned somewhere in there, and though there were red flags and alarms screaming all over the place (too complicated to discuss here), I allowed myself to entertain the possibility that the feelings were mutual. This woman was 25 years old to my 43. And while, yes, age is only a number, the fact was that my priorities and frames of reference were much different from hers. As a result, eventually she “fell out” of love and I was left stuck. I had talked myself into love. We split and I was taking it pretty bad. Looking back, I realize now that what I felt was not love -- Maybe it was some form of an obsession more than anything else. I mean, I didn’t do anything overly stupid like stalk her, or act out on my compulsions, but I was definitely in a lot of pain.

So, there I was, a cold, rainy Friday night and I go home, just wanting to lie down. I fall for the dumb move of calling her and when her voicemail came on, I hung up, and pulled the covers over my head with the intention of sleeping forever. And that’s when The Dream happens… 

I’m in deep pain and I go to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t just this girl, but the accumulation of everything that had happened over the previous year: relationship break up, education, not being there with my son everyday -- I felt like I was in a boxing match and losing big time. I went to sleep shrouded in a deep, intense sorrow.

I dream. I don’t remember the specifics of the dream, the content, but the feelings -- damn! -- the feeling of the dream is what I remember. In the dream, there is a woman in my life, I don’t know or remember exactly what she looks like. I remember her eyes and her smile. But that isn’t important. What’s important is that in this dream this woman loved me in a way I have never experienced in my life. The love is so palpable that it infuses me with joy, washing away my sorrow as if it were dirt.

I get this very real feeling of being loved so completely, so totally that it seems as if my very being is transformed on a cellular level. In the dream, this woman knows everything about me: from my most insightful thoughts to the most pornographic. She knows it all, the good and the bad, everything, and yet she still loves me completely, without condition. In the dream, I remember hearing her voice because all I remember is that she was walking laughing with some of my friends -- she was on a journey to reunite with me. But I get the real sense that she loves me and I am filled with a total, pure, unconditional love in this dream and I’m ecstatic!

Then I wake up… 

But this is the kicker: the feeling in the dream? It’s still there! I’m filled with this incredible sense of being loved that seems to come from the very core of my being. It’s not an over-the-top “gee-I’m-so-happy” type feeling, but rather a calm presence at my center, washing away my fears and doubts. It’s as if the woman in my dream connected me to the very essence of love itself.

I never tried to analyze this dream, but a part of me intuitively sensed that that woman in my dream wasn’t someone else, but an aspect of myself. I didn’t get this by thinking about it; I sensed it in my body. At least that’s how I remember experiencing The Dream.

Since that day, yes, I have experienced sadness, anger, disappointment – the full catastrophe of life – but nothing, not even death and loss, has ever taken away this joy at the core of my being. It is truly invincible. Sometimes, when I’m challenged or the big illusions of life -- you, know, death, rebirth, taxes, finances, blah blah blah -- obscures this connection, but it is never very far from my awareness.

Now I have discovered that I was mistaken about the nature of this dream. It wasn’t an “aspect of myself” that loved me in this powerful way. Not really. The dream was pointing me to a road I needed to travel. It was pointing me to the opening of my heart because the more I open, the stronger this presence is in my life. When I close, I lose contact; when I open, the contact becomes stronger. It’s not about “me.” It’s about the dissolving of the fake wall that separates “me” from you.

Perhaps, in a way, it was about the Woman of my Dreams.

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization… 

Monday Madness [Dream Time]

Hola mi Gente,

Man, interviewing for work is challenging. I tend to think that perhaps interviews are at least as challenging for the interviewer as they are for the interviewee… I just did a telephone conference and I have a few interviews set up this week. Send me love, mi gente! LOL

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Remembering and Interpreting Dreams

For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.

-- Vincent van Gogh

Okay, so picture the following. It’s a late weekend night and I’m giving my then ex a synopsis for a book I have in mind. I’m giving it all: the idea, the characters, everything, and it is totally blowing her away. 

According to her, I go back to sleep and the next day, the ole ex asks me when I’m going to write that book I was talking about the night before. I don’t remember a thing. All I remember are pieces of a dream about an idea for a book (it was a suspense/ horror novel with a clever hook) but I don’t remember talking about it to my ex or any other details about the book. She says it’s impossible. I was lucid and spoke to her for more than an hour in a clear manner about all aspects of the book. 

I asked her if she took notes… and now you know why she’s an “ex.” Kidding aside, that book is lost somewhere deep in the demented psyche of yours truly.

At the time, I was still in my undergrad studies (applied psych) looking to attend Columbia for grad studies the following semester. All during my university days, I experimented with my dreams. In fact, I used to study in my dreams. Some of you may laugh but this is true, I’m not kidding. I was so immersed in my studies, that they inhabited my dreams. 

I hardly ever remember my dreams, but I’ve had life-changing dreams. I wrote about one such dream (click here). For me, dreaming is a direct line to where the impossible happens and nothing is without meaning. It’s a clear state of awareness (or can be). It’s been my experience that one can find direct guidance for healing in our dreams, the natural habitat of our intuition. Here time and space as we conceptualize it ceases to exist and anything is possible. Our dream world is the canvass upon which our intuition can freely express itself. The only requirement is that we listen.

You are a partner to your dreams. Try to begin an ongoing conversation with them. Look at it as you would consulting a wise doctor or friend who knows you intimately. You can ask your dreams anything. No question is too trivial if it holds meaning for you. Also, expect answers. Some will be direct, others will require interpretation.

Your dreams can reveal many truths about your life as well as provide extraordinary insights, and give you information that will help your health, love life, and career. You’d be surprised either at the straightforward advice your dreams will yield, spontaneously, or upon request. 

Dreams provide answers, but first you must be able to accept them. People always ask me to interpret dreams for them because I guess that’s what many people think of when they think of clinical practice. I don’t do dreams. Dreams are too personal, too full of private and idiosyncratic symbolism for someone to interpret them for you. Besides, one’s theoretical orientation will decide what’s noticed and what’s ignored. A Freudian will see phallic symbols and a Jungian will see archetypes. I’m not discounting psychological theory, merely stating the obvious that no one can interpret your dreams for you, only you can.

I ran into the following suggestions the other day while reading an article. I think it has some good suggestions:

• Keep a journal and pen near your bed.
• Write a question on a piece of paper before you go to sleep. Make your request (if you have one) formal. Place it on a bedside table or under your pillow.
• In the morning try not to wake up too fast. Stay under the covers for a few minutes, at least, making an effort to remember your dream time. Try to get comfortable in that peaceful feeling between sleep and waking, what scientists call the hypnagogic state. Those initial moments act as a gate.
•  Upon opening your eyes, write down your dreams immediately. Otherwise they will evaporate, believe me. Try to recall a face, an object, color, or scene, feel an emotion. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make perfect sense. Try to record everything you remember. Try to refocus on the question you asked the previous night when you’re finished

In addition to remembering your dreams, there’s a level of understanding dreams. Intuitive but reliable information stands out in very specific ways. Watch for the following clues:

• Statements that simply convey information
•  Neutral parts of your dreams that evoke no emotion
• A detached feeling, as if you were a witness watching a scene
• A voice or person counseling you, as if you’re taking dictation from an outside source
• Conversations from people you’ve never met before

The most valuable intuitions appear as compassionate or have no emotion at all. Try to develop an ability to separate the content of your dreams from your reactions to it. This will help you separate the chafe from the wheat. Finally, be mindful that your dreams go by different rules than your waking life. Prepare yourself for a mind shift. Not even physical laws apply. Shoot, in your dreams you can even fly.

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization… 

The Lantern Bearers

Hola mi Gente,

I just realized it is very hard to pick the winning lottery numbers. I am still a broke motherfucker, y’all. LOL

When I was facilitating workshops, I was always on the prowl for good stories. I believe very much in the power of storytelling. Out of all places, I got this from a children’s book, part of a series.

Gather around my people… have you ever heard the story of Rutupiae Light?

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The Rutupiae Light

We are the lantern bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward against the darkness and the wind.

-- Rosemary Sutclif, The Lantern Bearers

Roman Britain in the fourth century was considered one of the most civilized places in the known world. Culture, literacy, medicine, social rights -- all the things we think of as advanced. There was a huge lighthouse at Rutupiae, where Dover is now, and every night the residents lit it. Its function was largely to guide ships, but it was also symbolic: As long as that lighthouse burned, Britain’s enemies knew Rome protected the territory.

But this was during the decline of Roman Empire. The glory days were long gone, and the Romans had enemies of their own. Eventually, the Roman troops were ordered out leaving Britain at the mercy of the notorious Saxons. Barbarians, the Saxons painted their faces blue, drank blood, raided, raped, and enslaved. They were that bad. Without the Roman Legions, Britain was doomed.

There is a story that goes that the night the Legions sailed for Rome, a group of soldiers disobeyed their orders and stayed. It was certain suicide. They were vastly outnumbered and had no chance of winning. But they stayed and they continued to light the Rutupiae Light. 

Now one may say that it was foolish. How long could they fool the Saxons? Why stay behind and die to keep a light going for a night or two? 

That’s one way to look at it. Another is that faced with the end of a dream, they chose to stay and fight and to hold the darkness back -- even if only for a night or two. You know what they were called? They were called the Lantern Bearers.

You might think of the fall of Rome as if it happened in one day. Like one day, there was this thud and -- boom – finished. But it didn’t happen that way; it never happens that way. Throughout history empires have died slow and from the inside. Like cancer. And sometimes I walk through places that are like that. Places covered with tumors, but no one is looking and no one is talking. As a society we have accepted leaders that profess to hate government and a government that hates itself cannot, in all good conscience, be any good. In place of a dream of The Great Society, we have built prisons. In place of culture, literacy, and freedom we have allowed and even encouraged a society predicated on enslavement and ignorance and we turn and blame the very victims of these policies.

And while this dismantling goes apace, we sit and entertain ourselves with fiction posing as reality. We sit, solitary figures, before the blinking light of the TV and watch others date, though we ourselves have no dates. We sit passively and watch others live and yet we have no lives to speak of. That is our reality, our God.

And almost no one cares to keep the light burning… 

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization