I saw in a dream…
That was me standing there in front of the firing squad,
my hands tied behind me, an unlit cigarette dangling from my lips,
reliving the story of a life which truly I did not know I had lived.
Was I the General who lead the people’s revolt on this island
so small it does not appear on a map of the world?
Pondering the possible reasons for being here in this dream
hoping only that whatever my crime, I lived up to my expectations.
I could feel the light breeze cooling the sweat beneath my silk shirt,
still heavy with the perfume of the woman who betrayed me that night.
They could not miss me, I thought, from only twenty feet away
and yet the wall behind me was riddled with holes from stray bullets.
Maybe guilt or a grain of sand blurred the sight of some executioners.
I watch the men get “ready” and shoulder their rifles to take “aim.”
I take one last drag of the still unlit cigarette and prepare myself to die.
Suddenly, I awake from this dream when I hear the word “fire.”
To most Western Civilizations the image of God that comes to mind when one thinks of God is the painted image on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He (God) is the clothed white haired man, supported by a host of angels, reaching out to touch man, who is naked, with the gift of life. Even as a child I always thought it was strange that God would be wearing clothes since shame/sin had not existed before the eating of the apple by Eve in the Story of Creation.
In Eastern Cultures, the image of God takes on many forms, most of which are more mythical than human although most process human features. There are over twenty forms of Kali, the Hindu goddess of dissolution and destruction who is known for destroying ignorance. Kali means The Black One, the color in which all other colors merge and dissolve. Just as black is the absence of all color, all names and gods disappear in Kali. She is the ultimate goddess. Perhaps the female counterpart of the Christian God.
My personal belief around knowing God is just that, “personal.” It is not derived from any religious teachings or prophets, although I have read and studied many, but from a single dream which left me in awe.
The Temple to God
I saw in a dream…
I am attending a meeting of the worlds religious leaders to dedicate a new temple to God. The temple is built in the middle of the desert with no other life within miles. It is made of granite columns extending hundreds of feet into the air where they meets a massive covering made of ornate glasses connected with beams of gold. The floor of the temple is busy with the debates of world religious leaders at one end and an open air market at the other. There are no walls but entrances appear between the arched Greek designed columns.
The market place is filled with the artifacts of all the world’s religions. There is the schrod of Jesus and the wooden bowl of Buddha. The original manuscript of the Koran. The scribe with which Confucius wrote his wisdom for mankind.
I am myself, dressed in today’s fashion but everyone else is dressed in the fashion of the time when their religion was established. One man dressed in the colorful robes of a desert leader is addressing a large contingency. He insists that God’s temple is within and no building no matter how large or beautiful houses God. He is encouraging all the participants to go outside to witness God in his true house but they are reluctant to leave the new monument.
A desert wind suddenly blows through the temple extinguishing all the candles and lights, so the crowd disperses outside to view the temple in the sunset. I go outside but instead of looking at the temple, I notice a small dust twister no more than two inches high carving something in the sand at my feet. The carvings were an ancient alphabet but the translation was this: “You must know God in a way which leaves the greatest impression upon you as an individual.” The twister now flattens out and blows away the message it just created and then itself disappears. I look up to see if anyone else had witnessed this event but everyone’s eyes were focused on the Temple to God.
I know a place where time has
no points of reference to hold onto,
no hands sweeps across its well worn face,
no seconds eat away at existence,
no flashing light marks the arrival or passing.
Here, in this infinite space, all dreams live forever.
Everything, is expressed in the moment called now.
Here, each embrace is the only one I desire.
Here, I come whole and leave so much wiser.
Believe in hunches, not opinion polls. You are not your name or your telephone number. At boarding time don’t miss the boat that has your name on it. It sails only once. Head for the deep. Hold your course, even if your vision shipwrecks you. — James Broughton
My arrival in Fiji will be exactly two months to the day I saw the photograph of a house a hundred yards from the South Pacific and instantly knew I would soon be living there. Just in time for the full moon. The process has led to a total upheaval of my life but has smoothly moved from insight to takeoff without a single hitch in destiny’s plan. I truthfully had no say in the circumstances leading up to this adventure. Oh, I could have said, “No,” but that would have meant staying put and rearranging furniture in the room I have already lived in. I clearly remember the words in a dream echoing from the mouth of a sage when I asked what I should do after reaching the top of the mountain.
“Jump,” he said, “some make it, some don’t.”
I believe I am now the object of a different type of dream. I am not dreaming it, someone else is. I never had a dream to live in Fiji and yet everything I have experienced these last two months is taking me there. I am an active and very willing participant in a dream not my own. A step like this only requires the courage to trust the unseen forces acting upon our lives and to surrender to that trust. Consciousness is an unseen energy and it has worked to make destiny’s dream my own.
The ocean and its creatures are planning a celebration for my first baptism in the South Pacific. I can already hear the rain triumphantly sounding my arrival upon the corrugated steel roof of my new home. I can feel the sun’s heat beaming joy through the coconut trees in the front yard. The beach patiently awaits the first of my many impermanent footprints. The hammock hangs in anxious anticipation of my body’s lingering in its open comfort for hours on end. The geckoes chirp in unison to the bright, full face moon.
This is not a dream, I tell myself. This is my life!
Let the Wild Rumpus Begin! It’s Fiji Time!
The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about, nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived. — Søren Kierkegaard
Have you ever dreamed of being
in a different time and place?
Was the setting large and empty,
the windows covered with lace?
Was there a fire in the fireplace,
maybe snow outside the door?
Were you all alone there or
surrounded by those you adore?
Are there cities in your new home,
or old forests, dark and green?
Will all your fantasies come
true there, or will you
still have to dream?
You ask me how it is I know, you have a beautiful body
when my hands have never caressed the small of your back.
My lips has never sensed the nape of your long flowing neck.
Our bodies have never laid silent in our shared sexual sweat.
I know you have a beautiful body.
I watched you laugh at the rain and witnessed
you silently stare at nothingness in complete awe.
We dance together in movement,
shadows flickering in flashing lights.
You are alive in your body, and that to me is beautiful.
I know you have a beautiful body.
For in my dreams, I see you naked.
The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. — C.G. Jung
I don’t know where you came from —
a dream I had long ago,
Perhaps we met as travelers do
at a crossroad between destinations.
Maybe on a crowded bus going to
jobs which neither of us loved, or
in a smoke filled bar, waiting for
last call before going home
to our empty beds.
I might have been a servant
in your court, washed your feet
with honeyed goat’s milk.
Or you a courtesan, awarded me
the night before battle
and my warrior’s death.
which no longer matter.
For here we are again,
together — for the first time.