[This dream occurred at roughly 7am, after I had crawled back into bed following completion of all twelve steps of my morning qigong meditation.]
We were driving down a steep hill in a grey vehicle. I was in the passenger seat greatly concerned that we would crash into the debris that dotted the grassy hill - beams and bars of steel, piles of sandstone blocks, and stacks of cut wood. At the top of a rise we stopped, where I voiced my concerns to the driver, who merely stared forward, his face an unreadable mien. Below the rise stood the first tee of a disc-golf course next to a dead tree, but my companion turned and walked back up the way we’d come. I followed him back upward onto a dirt path that lead along a ridge covered in snow, from which we surveyed the surrounding countryside of cultivated fields, scattered woods, and distant farm houses.
Walking back down to the tee, we came upon a half dozen other persons kitted out for disc golf. Somewhere nearby but out of sight a person was screaming with horrible urgency, which scared me enough that I ran for shelter. The formerly dead tree had grown tremendously, great reaching tendrils of a hardened, textured, grey plastic that dug back into the ground, forming a wall. Finding my exit blocked, I turned to find the others standing close by, a massive newcomer in their midst. (He reminded me of a figure from my childhood, a giant scotsman dressed in battle fatigues.) The newcomer apologized for the screaming in a way that took my fear away, at which point the dream changed radically.
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
Dreams are, in essence, hallucinations. While dreaming, we see, hear, and feel things that exist nowhere except within the subconscious mind. Absent the type of appropriate sleep that facilitates reaching dream-state, we humans tend to become listless, our brains foggy, our moods sullen and prone to depression. Some research suggests that dreams help improve social interactions. Another theory is that dreams help us connect with our emotions, reducing the burden of negative ones such as fear and worry.
Consequently, it is important to do everything possible to get a good night’s sleep that is neither too long nor too short. This author knows that strenuous physical exercise during the day helps him fall asleep quickly. He also knows that the presence of both light and sound keep him from sleeping well, wherefore he makes his bedroom dark and quiet before going to bed. One of the reasons he doesn’t drink booze is because he knows that the use hard drugs such as alcohol poses a danger to healthy sleep patterns. Also important is not eating food or drinking water before bedtime, as these can interrupt nocturnal cycles.
There are few if any drawbacks to having the kind of sleep that allows to occur dreams, but many risks associated with poor sleep-related habits. For long-term health and a free bout of beneficial hallucinations, please skip the mind-altering drugs and try to get a good night’s sleep.
[For help with addictions to drugs, including alcohol, consider visiting these websites: rehab-international.org, samhsa.gov, or rehab4alcoholism.com. For information on ways to recover finances and rebuild credit in the aftermath of addiction, consider reading this article from creditcards.com.]
americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan
Hopes fails, dreams shatter. Sadness emerges, and, with it, fear. Concern for one’s own future sharpens, fear blossoming into anger. And then anger mutates into self-righteous indignation at anything perceived to be the root cause of one’s problems. Even if the people or choices targeted actually have nothing to do with one’s problems, they become the focus of one’s hatred.
Within the morally vacuous, cacophonous self-pity factories that social media sites and other internet message boards often are, one’s indignation grows while at the same time, however, the size and origin of one’s problems stay the same. Soon, anger spills over into aggression, hot and sour words hurled unnecessarily at others in one’s web of contacts. The hurt doesn’t go away, prompting one to pile on the grief in an effort to smother it. Still, it lingers, now a sucking and festering wound wrapped tightly around the once-soothing tendrils of ever-loving heartspace.
Gradually, one’s web of social contacts shrinks, its individual strands broken, severed, neglected. More and more isolated does one then become, so isolated and lonely in fact that fear and anger appear more and more real. Suddenly, it’s all one can seem to think about, how stupid and foolish and misguided everyone else is, how simple the solutions to this nation’s and this city’s and this block’s problems are. ‘If only people would just listen to me,’ one thinks, an angry, lonely voice screaming into the yawning void. Pitiable, the soul struggling to withstand twin onslaughts of negativity and self-loathing, the world suddenly an evil and unwelcoming place, the last strands give out.
Yet there within the charred and blackened ruins of one’s real and online lives glimmer, diamond-like, the compressed jewels of love, hope, and compassion. And rebirth beckons.
americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan
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I bicycle, write, surf, and strive.