It continues to amaze me that although I’m not able to relate in a physical sense
to the world around me during sleep, a lot my spiritual and mental growth comes from
this state of consciousness. This makes sense since my body is at rest and my mind
isn’t filled with the ‘loud’ demands like those that are made by my physical needs and
desires that tend to direct almost every single moment of my attention their way when
I’m awake. It seems odd to me though that although my mind is present while I’m
dreaming, upon waking I usually only have a collected emotional version of what had
taken place; probably because the natural ‘language’ that is in use during this time does not stem from objectivity. These emotions are still very useful for helping to guide me emotionally, but it is very hard to put these feelings into spoken word; my tongue just doesn’t know the ‘language’ of my emotional evolution. I am grateful when my memory is present to act as a witness to these midnight colloquies between the various ‘languages’
that are ‘spoken’ by the integrated aspects of myself to help my rational mind later
interpret their meaning. My memory provides me with a window into the very evolution of
my self and over time provides me with a more fluent understanding of how their
interactions defines who I am and who I can become tomorrow.
Last night I was in wading in shallow water looking down at an assortment of
treasures that were lying on the bottom in the sand. There were beautiful stones, jewels,
fossils, and artifacts. Although my body was at rest, my mind was still in ‘practical’ mode.
I felt like a gluttonous, rambunctious child, eager to grab all of the pretty things I could
manage to get my hands on. I submerged myself and resurfaced with two objects, one in
each hand. I had acquired them and wanted more. Immediately I felt as though a door
had been opened and an onlooker had been allowed access to my mind. I looked at my hands and felt guilty for following a drive of unknown origin, one that had caused a
momentarily blindness to anything but this drive to obtain the objects. I looked at my
hands again, and decided that the desire to have such pretty things was still within me,
but with the guidance of the onlooker, I dropped one of the objects and expressed
gratitude for the remaining one. I then looked around, and saw that there were other
people around me, looking to find these things as well. I noticed that they were going
about their gathering in a certain way. With each object they found, they would express
gratitude, and then have something insightful to say about the origin of the objects
before placing them in certain ways in relation to each other on the sand. I looked down
at what I had in my hand, and started to think of something to say about it. Nothing
came to me, and I found myself wanting to make something up so that I wouldn’t feel like
I shouldn’t be there among the collectors. I was overcome by a feeling that I was being
studied by a prying but empathetic “eye”; my intentions to lie were washed over by
this and I knew that I must control my urges to act irrationally. I decided that I had no
choice but to be an observer or I’d never learn to describe the object that I had obtained
from the water.
As I stood watching and listening for some time to the stories being told, I began
to understand the importance of being still and silent. With every story I soaked in, I felt a
growing respect for the subtle ways I was being shown to cultivate my memory to be
able to hold onto my surroundings; the people, the water, and the treasures the land
held. The weird thing was, that this respect grew within me until it seemed to escape
my attention and fill every other object and space outside of myself. I was amazed
to recognize this feeling as the on looking guiding force that had startled me with
it’s intensity in the beginning of my dream, and in this way I understood my desire
for the “jewels”; they were made beautiful to allow my mind that is so used to reaching out for physical beauty and comfort, a place to start my investigation of the puzzling unknown; delicate fragments, and rich, like the seeds of growth.
This I believe.
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