Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Dream Sequence

Monoprint: Kontiki (Over Isla Mujeres), Terry Chastain, 1999

I had a dream I and others were transported by aliens (not a hostile abduction) in a blimp named Randy. They weren't here to harm or probe us, but to teach us how to find the meaning of (our own) life through exercises and activites. Led by resident alien, Brian Denehey, of Cocoon fame (yes, my alien visual dream dictionary is very limited, though it's interesting that the blimp is the same shape as the cocoons), the exercise given to me was a 'I start a sentence and you finish it'. He said, "When I die, I feel nothing....". I told him I couldn't finish it because I didn't agree with the statement (nevermind that it is already a grammatically complete thought.) I started my own sentence, "When I die, I feel everything."

Shortly after, I was lulled into wake-state.

The back burners of my mind have been on simmer mode lately: thinking about religion and spirituality, but not of any indoctrinated or oogey-boogey variety. Raised Methodist (at home), Jesuit (for 1-2nd grades), Secular (3-8th grades), Catholic (9-12th), World's My Oyster ( the Berkeley-Italy years), and Dabbler's Delight Yogic Practice (eastern slant with a twist of western urbanity), like it or not, religion of one sort or another has been a part of my life. Maybe not on a very conscious level...as I spent most of my early years fending off fanaticism from my father. But with a bit of time-distance (and a mix of skepticism and curiosity), I've been reflecting on what makes up my own personal sense of . . . religiosity, if you will.

addendum: My inner demons are still debating the nothing = everything formula. Clearly haven't made the connect yet.


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