Credit my dreams as I do. At times takes longer than most. Yet this one from which I arose is plain to see memorable. The landscape was similar to one I knew in childhood, traversed on foot and extensively explored: Laddin’s Rock, Old Greenwich, Connecticut. The scenario frequently reprised is expansive fascinating and at times contracts to the memory of being there in snow wearing canvas sneakers. . . .and punctuated by the destruction of a fabulous large cast iron skillet used to cook lunch. Not by me but the negligence of a fellow traveler in the snow. He laughed, his responsibility and crime. Inwardly I cringed and wept, lamenting the folly of what the skillet represented to me. Reaching back beyond my maternal grandmothers time.
What was wild and uninhabited during my experience of it is now residential mostly. Bewildered I arose thinking it was indicative of something else developed for something other than W.A.S.P.s . . . or pretenders to what formed this country initially. Our collective rape and theft of it from the natives who lacked any sense of ownership beyond the providence it provided.
At lunch during the previous period of light, with M, I confessed again my love for her. The proclamation was preceded by an interesting event. In the corner of the restaurant was a family: father, a young son, a slightly older daughter. Their costume palate of color subtle, punctuated by red poinsettias wrapped in red gilt.
M replied to me; “I noticed. Being trained in observation--in depth.” Leading later to our conversation about the origins of such vision and my thesis that we who were abused in childhood (or even in recent events experienced by those who return from war or rape--surviver’s guilt?) . . . or merely endless mourning; the events tearing our sense of normal to shreds.
We, M & I, seem to have a remarkable similitude in childhood and differ widely in adaption. She sought a formal education in psychology. While I, thinking myself too stupid to live, labored on using my own devices. The topic of Hypervigilance came into play. My thoughts tending towards a motivation for paranoia. To which she elaborated alternatives.
An aside: I sense that given the trauma of abnormal events, regardless of societal regard: definition or shoulds and oughts. Hypervigilance can tend towards chaos and explains much of my previous behavior and choices. Through extrapolation and/or intuition I sense that most of the violence demonstrated against the public is an outward manifestation of internal chaos; an attempt to illustrate that which is unacceptable to the aggressor. As animals we go to ridiculous extremes. Remaining for the most part asleep in normalcy; wage slaves or anarchist. Unconscious that life is to be lived not survived. Most education is given in order that we conform to expectations set by those who profit from our obedience.
Neither God nor love is a noun but a verb.
Returning to my dream. There was a woman, virtually unseen, within, who influenced me to make of the overt chaos, a place like Laddin’s Rock during my childhood, into a place of peace, a park for transient visitation not the privileged habitation of a few.
"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same." -Elbert Hubbard
At one time I loved her because of gratitude. Now I love her as friend; for herself. Leading me to realize, that like Jesus or Buddha, M is for me the source of becoming and not what I sought in having someone captive as a resource immutable. Conditional verses unconditional love. It seems wise to chose a mate with whom one can converse for a lifetime.
130108 03:37 Dreams remembered
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