Dream of the Grecian City

Dream of the Grecian City
(10/2/2007)

Another dream this morning...

I was in a city-world that I am starting to recognize now from a series of at least three recent dreams. This world represents the perception dream as it is now: relatively more free, more fluid, but with aspects still solid, concrete, with rules that still bind and hold one back from Ultimate Freedom. I see it as a place that must be worked with, worked through, and eventually a place from which to depart.

It is a place filled with subtle beauty and a mythical quality, much like a modern version of ancient Greece with its adoration of art as manifestation of beauty. But like Greece of old, this society adored war as a collective crime against other peoples not considered "us". The citizens of this society sat together and did things together as a collective unison. And each one of them carried a spear, a decorative kind of spear - polished and pretty - nevertheless pointed and dangerous.

At the beginning of this dream, I remembered back on another dream from a few days ago in this same world. I had tried to do something but failed. This night (it was night in the dream) I tried to do this same thing but finally succeeded. This thing I tried, this act, was to run and jump off a cliff and remain suspended by a rope of intent that would pull me back up, or at least stop me from hitting the muddy water at the bottom of the canyon. That few days ago, the rope appeared, I could feel its tug, but it was not taught enough. It did not save me from hitting the mud and water. As I hit the water, the mud completely enveloped me and kept me down, kept me from remembering the previous attempt in dream until tonight. Now here I was, trying to do it again. I ran and...

The rope of intent was much stronger, more taught. But at the same time I noticed it was even lighter somehow, as if had an attribute of a lighter touch that made all the difference in its ability to work. And work it did. It held me up and kept from striking the water. I ended up flying upward now above the water, to a place close to where I had jumped off originally. It was attached to a canyon wall directly above a torch looking much like the same torch the statue of liberty carries. The torch was aflame, and it lit the entire canyon of water in a subtle dazzling brilliance of silvery light, and illuminated the canyon walls near it so that one could see all the rocks and cliffs protruding nearby.

I realized and simultaneously said to myself, "This torch if the Torch of the Hero. He must approach it, and in approaching it be burned by it, and in so being burned, the hero will be purified." The rope's attachment near this canyon wall ended directly above the torch, but up even more. I "reeled" myself in on the rope, coming ever closer to the Torch.

Finally I was pulling myself upwards, now fully over the fire of the Torch. Its flames coursed upward and licked at my legs. Rather than immolating me, they instead warmed me much in the way a chili sauce would warm a good bowl of soup. The flames also warmed my rope, made it cleaner and more lithe. I climbed upward, free of the searing flames now. I touched the canyon wall above those murky waters below. The rope disappeared (went back into me as unspent intent), the attachment point of the rope left behind as a sacrifice to the holy spot of earth that served as an anchoring point. I was curious to see the attachment point had disguised itself as a rusty piece of braided support cable (a remnant of the rope of intent) that protruded from the side of the canyon wall: it had disguised itself, thus showing the need for self-preservation in a world still so critical, still so hostile and predatory.

I climbed up the canyon wall to the plateau at a place close to where I had jumped off. After my having been burned by the torch, I saw this place just fine. While the place was the same, it was somehow transformed as if it were a different place - indeed different now in the eyes of the beholder.

I walked to a dark area enclosed with trees. Among these trees was an ancient temple. Around this time I realized this place was the edge of this small little world - the threshold to another different world, only a long walk of perception away.

Tom showed up there, and there seemed to be some people of all ages who had been in or near the temple. Some mud puppies appeared in the form of shadowy dogs, and they flew all around in the air. Tom said, "He's making the dogs appear, but can he keep them away?" The dogs seemed to be something of a challenge for me, for I knew they could easily envelop me and make me forget (literally) what I was doing in a fit of passion or rage. This time, as the dogs whirled around me, it was different: I was able to hold them at a distance, at bay. It was as if I could resist them, yet there was another aspect of this dynamic: there was something about me they did not understand, did not like. Thus they kept away, and eventually left.

Still flying somewhat, I settled down enough to walk on the ground. I approached the grounds outside the temple and enjoyed the illumination of the garden and shrubbery in the intense beautiful moonlight. Tom and Elaine were sitting on the ground outside: two people in a circle of other abstract (almost unseen) people waiting for me. While Elaine remained seated (somewhat somber), Tom got up and approached me. Tom moved nimbly despite wearing a suit of armor made of pure meteorite. It fit him perfectly but was a little bulky, made him look like a tortoise.

As he walked to me, Tom was intending something. I felt a heaviness of silence and calm, and so I sat down and waited a moment. After a few moments, I felt as if a fragmented part of me reconnected to another broken jagged piece in me. It was a piece that had been long lost, now found and reconnected, re-glued back to my being once again after so long: healing. I reached forward and hugged Tom and wailed. We embraced a few moments as I blubbered. After a moment I realized the blubbering was useless, and stopped. We broke our embrace and I walked off in solitude.

After having been able to jump off the precipice and fly without falling down, I wanted o try my new double-edged skill: to fly yet remain grounded, able to remember what I was doing. So off I flew. I flew past the countryside back to the city portion of the world where all the people lived. I flew over the tiered steps of a rather large temple that seemed to be done up much like a stepped Mayan temple. It was attended to and decorated with all kinds of beautiful people, things, and colors - all of them slaves to the adornment of this temple.

As I viewed them then, and as I recollected this now, I realize: these are all things that will need to be left behind soon. A part of me felt relief at this thought.

I was returning, returning to my world as I knew it, created it, as it was.

In the next scene, I was inside a temple with al the people of society surrounding me. I felt a comfortable and proud bond of kinship with them: we were of the same tribe, the same hive so to speak. Someone somewhere beat a drum, and we citizens all kept time by clicking our pretty manacles together in perfect unison. As I entered the temple, I got into my appropriate place among the many rows of citizens performing their ritualistic activities - clicking their manacles together at the appropriate time in a kind of comforting, mind-numbing rhythm. Drones they all were, and I was among them.

After I sat down within the rows, I sat quietly before attempting to begin to click along with the others. I had to settle down first or else I would not be able to keep rhythm. After a few cycles of drum booming and response clicking, I attempted to click in unison with my hive-mates. My click was off by an entire horrifying beat, which put an end to the incessantly numbing drumbeat. The ensuing silence was filled with fear and loathing. It was as if no-ne could breath because the authoritative drumbeat had ceased. Someone had dared not be on beat. That someone was me.

The drummer had stopped immediately, and whatever the unseen controlling mechanism was: it sent a visible wave of tension throughout the floor of the entire temple, upsetting the inhabitants (including me) sitting on the floor. The first wave of tension only seemed to piqué the attention of the worshippers sitting all around me. The second wave seemed more like an inquiry: whatever the collective consciousness was, it wanted to seek out the transgressor: the one who had chimed off-beat. It was seeking me out. Upon the second wave of tension, all the inhabitants were lifted off the floor, and their level of consciousness was raised just enough to give all of those sitting next to me the energy to pick up their spears and point them at me.

Interestingly enough, I noticed that someone near me had been slightly off beat, too - as if the virulence of my being different had effected them also, had awakened them into being more conscious of themselves and thus causing them to be slightly off beat also. Thus some spears were pointed at this person also.

After being pointed out, I don't know what happened. The dream faded. Perhaps I was enshrouded with a power meant to make me fall asleep again, to stop remembering where I was, or what I was doing.

And now, here I am...