Last night I had another unusual dream.
All of a sudden, all of my senses fractured — my vision pixelated, blurred, and bent; my hearing stopped parsing sounds, becoming an overwhelming cacophony; the felt sense of my body and its capacity to touch shattered like a mirror, space without and within ceased to exist; taste and smell were just turned “off”— and in short, any coherent sense of self simply “broke.” It was almost like that one bad mushroom trip I had when I was twenty-something.
I did not awaken from the sleeping dream (whatever “I” that ceased to be as it knew itself and waking Reality to be).
Then seemingly just as fast, the inputs to the system regained coherence, and like a radio station coming into focus, I saw a scene before me. I saw lines of human and animal beings (specifically, dolphins) physically linked up like some big, biological electrical circuit.
Weird.
Then I awoke from my sleeping-time dream.
What’s going on here? The scientist in me wants to “know,” theoretically, to understand experience by intellect. It’s simply not content having firsthand mystical experiences. Groking something is seemingly not enough — the little intellectual module, utilizing language and probability functions, wants to expound upon, categorize, model and describe...
These days, I sigh and allow the intellect to spin its wheels in the background — I half-heartedly watch it run in the backyard like a puppy as I do other things, like practicing embodied meditation, creating artwork, and preparing garden grown food. And when the intellect tires out from lack of attention, I experience the vast, clear open-mindedness of nothing, an unparalleled peace of mind, clarity, and awareness beyond the small self.
I am free. I always was; or so I choose to believe.
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Sleeping-time dreams seem to reveal to me more about the nature of multi-dimensional reality than waking time itself. Or at least they seem to show me, repeatedly and consistently, the seemingly non-existent boundaries of my mind’s creative capacity.
