Maebius Musing

As a catch-up post on mystical musings, I offer a dream from last night.  Usually, I don’t really remember my dreams except in odd fragments.  This one, was semi-lucid and really wierd!

It began with myself, (though a younger and not-looking-like me-at-all)  walking with some unknown friends along a sort of paved walkway through some outdoor “commercial park” or modern college university-grounds. The grass at the sides of the walk was replaced by garbage and a few scraps of ruined chain-link fencing, composed mostly of black shingle-like things, and random other “back alley trash”.  Otherwise, the buildings around me were clean and modern, somewhat heavy on domes or semi-austere roof-patterns (such as a university campus with separate classroom buildings and labs)

We were chatting about something random, when I tripped and stumbled onto the black shingle-stuff, and my companions were greatly worried about stepping from the path.  At this point, a large towering figure rose from the shingle-trash (cartoon anime style).  It looked featureless, just a rounded pillar of matter, with glowing, non-threatening and cartoony-yet-irritatable-surprised, red eyes.  Clearly, and with a tone of warning, the ‘monster’ boomed “It has seen me?!!” and rattled back into a pile of lifeless junk.

Suddenly, colours were clearer, my friends vanished, and I felt elightened.  I knew how the world worked, vividly, and unquestioningly, In that fuzzy dream-logic of Truth.  I stepped back onto the walkway and noticed that as I stepped into a nearby building shadow, my footprints left faintly glowing marks which faded, like walking on damp soil where the water shimmers momentarily before drawing back underground.

Then, the dream shifted and I looked more like myself in real life.  I was on a wide marble tile hallway, reminicent of the over-highway pedestrian bridges, and inside some huge sprawling complex.  Outside, the sun was setting through large windows, and I was desperately trying to find something.

In one are of this impossibly large convention hall/mansion, there was a group of toga-clad practitioners of some yoga-like rituals.  I glanced at them briefly, acknowledging their efforts at enlightenment while knowing in my dream-heart that is was wrong.  There was no judgement in my thoughts, only a mental note that that works for them, but there was so much more under their reality.  I knew The Answer, but could not articulate it to that group easily, and attempting it would only harm their own search with my ineptitude.

Yet I needed to find something.  The place I needed to go.  The room, the field, the Spot where my Answer fit, and could be contemplated by like-minded others.  If only I could find it before morning.    I was hurried, but not out of worry, and merely due to wishing to share the joy as soon as possible.

Other areas were passed through.  Oudoor circles of dancers, prayer-groups, and academic scholars.  All had a fragment of the Answer in their own way, but were not the groups I searched for.  Indoor classrooms of Afro-cuban bonfire dancers, caltholic masses, aboriginal tribes, and whirling dirvishes were passed, with the same smiling acknowledgement of Truth-in-part.

There was more, and I remember wanting to write down my thoughts while semi-lucidly in-dreaming,  but first I had to find the place I could sit down and be “home”.

Unfortunately, the sun set outside of the windows, and the final image from my dream was one of pausing to look outside and wonder at the sky.  It was filled with rainbow clouds of nebulae, flashing meteors, and sparkling diamonds, like some sci-fi backdrop from the center of the galaxy.  Then, funny enough, I know my dream-self laughed out loud as I muttered “My god, it’s full of stars!”

Even as I write this in the afternoon at work, I can almost still feel and accurately imagine some of the dream sequences.  Specifically the glowing footprints, and the final imagery of walking through the halls and seeing hte satars.  I was serene, yet driven, calm and yet energized with the clarity that a good night’s sleep and a good book gives you.

I’m not sure what it meant, but any dream that wakes me with tears in my eyes, my fingers tingling in that ‘Wow’ way, and a smile on my face, without any real reason to explain them, has to mean something…

What do you think?

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NOTE: seems adding imaged borked the post.  Summary = kid loves kindergarden. Will try to re-write and upload pictures that won’t corrupt themselves.. Grr….
The sprog went to the Big House School yesterday for the first time. Kindergarden class!
The first day was a half-day, where parents got to follow along, meet & greet big brothe ..the teachers and administrators.
When we arrived, there was the usual large collection of milling kids, parents hovering nearby, and the staccato strobe of a zillion cameras every few seconds.  I’ll willingly admit to adding to the light pollution here.  (pictures below).   Some kids were crying, some were stoutly ignoring the others in leu of the newfound class-toybox, and such.  Our guy proceeded to hit the cubby-spot and hang his backpack, then go find some toys to play with and chatter to one of hte kids from his Pre-K class like old friends.

Second day was great, he was excited to eat “cheesy pizza” at the cafeteria.  (More details to follow once I figure out why Wordpress is acting up lately…. )

Firstly, is at school the first day, where parents got to visit. Doesn’t he look so big!
Here are a few small images I had to manually crop and fiddle with for some odd reason.

Second, waiting for the bus on Friday, excitedly telling “papa” all about the fun he will be having today!

Lastly, sprogling is getting on the bus for the first time.  He did manage to look back through the window and wave, but otherwise, it was “See ya folks, I’m going to school!” in his mind.

At the end, a close-up high-res shot of the big boy from the “schoolyard” image, because it came out so well.

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I’m not sure how to articulate it, so I hope the following short muse-rambling makes some sort of coherent sense. 

Do all you folks seem to constantly have a soundtrack going in your head, usually quiet and behind the usual random brain-mutterings?  When you look at a beautiful artwork, or see the sunrise, does your internal symphony crescendo with instruments appropriate to the medium?  (harmonizing crickets even, if not harps and trumpets)    Mine does.

When I seek out moments of solitude to center and think, and even when I am attempting to meditate in an eastern- null-thought method, the hardest thing to quiet is that internal melody.  The inner-thought is hard enough of course, but if I manage to get that wrangled, there’s usually some sniglet of tune or ear-worm of melody that is nigh-impossible to cancel out.  The best I usually get to is to shift the song to something like Enya or a soft “meditation music” instead of something from the 80’s rock or modern alternative scene.

When I work nights, and am alone, or am driving to visit friends and relatives in Pennsylvania, I almost have this burning NEED to have the radio on.  I go slightly nuts if it’s totally quiet beyond the sound of a car engine, or printer spewing paper.   It’s wierd.

Likewise, nothing gets the emotions fired up and makes time pass quickly like good tunes.

I’ve joked with my wife once about using my “time-warp” ability while driving, since if the radio is on while she sleeps in the back with the sprogling, we seem to make the trips in short time with no traffic. I can attest that even during these trips the spedometer and cruise-control are set appropriately, (no police-chase velocities are used), yet we always “make good time”.   With the radio off and quietness around me, my own sense of time goes sluggish, and the clock just.  stands.  still.

On a related note, I think this is why my favorite places to sleep are are festivals and camping.  At the former, there is the ubiquitous drumming, which I’ve mentioned a love for often here.  Even at regular campsites, there’s always some drifting music from other camper’s radios, or at least the summer buzz of crickets and katydids.

The really amuzing thing is that I can’t really consider myself musically inclined.  I don’t sing (other than fun kareoke games), don’t really play any instruments except the hand-drum at festivals (and even there, not well compared to the “Real Drummers”), and dance like a fish out of water.     Yet, music is in my blood.
What about you folks?

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Lately, images have been acting REALLY weird with my blogsite here.  I’ve tried to fiddle with the layout and theme, hopefully to clean up any errors and such.  Please forgive any wierdness in this particular post, and be warned.

Images and other testing continues after the break, in case your feedreaders don’t like things.  Continue Reading »

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