The Dream Part 3

This entry is part 3 of 4 in the series The Dream

Well, the first couple of versions by those other folks were kind of sci-fi, but for me, it was more supernatural. I experienced the ‘beings’ as the spirits of all the loved ones I’ve lost- it was both joyous and heart wrenching, to witness again, for a moment, iridescence glimpses of the deeply familiar, seeing briefly, the souls that are the shape of the holes in my heart.

The spirits told me that, while it’s almost impossible now, it used to be easy for them to speak to us, just as most ghosts don’t know what or where to be once they’re dead, we’ve forgotten how to see them, we don’t make the spaces for them to be in anymore. Traditions rooted in the ‘natural’ world, the animals, plants and soil- that we’re very much a part of, is where ghosts, our ancestors, used to find the spaces to be in, in a way that they could help guide and nurture us in the cycles of our lives.

We built ancient earthworks as the bones of living structures for spirits to be in, allowing us to have a deep relationship with them. They worked in harmony with the land they occupied to provide the space for spirit to grow into living matter and express itself in the plants and animals (including the human ones).

The problem started, the spirits said, when some of the ancient ones got tired of things constantly changing and started to instill a fear of death in some of the living. This lead to the creation of symbols on paper and the abstraction of head from body, and spirit from the context of being.

I could feel the collective excitement, in these spirits communicating with me, they had, for the moment of the Dream, a purpose, otherwise, most ghosts had no where to be anymore- there was a lining up of numerous factors to allow the Dream to happen in this modern world- with it’s obsession with not seeing the spiritual, unless it’s locked into a reductive dogma that silences the voice it’s claiming to listen to- and there wasn’t likely to be a repeat any time soon.

They left me with a request, though- to make spaces in my life for them to be, even if I can’t hear or see them- to spend time reflecting quietly in places of significance. Allow time for those I’ve lost to touch my heart so that they will have a place to be. And, to nurture the creation of places of life for them, and eventually me, to grow into. To bring life back to death and reconnect with the cycles of living and dying.

They didn’t leave me with a joke- but something does strike me as kind of funny- am I making this better or worse by committing this story to words?