In this waking life my thoughts
are agate points and deep lagoons
that make ancient cities and heroes
and bust dakinis out of lunch boxes.
Everything is alive when I am awake.
I remember to swim in air
and fly in water, and ride moon-tigers
to the Moon Cafe, and the light in my head
is the light of the blue-white star.
- from my poem "I Dreamed I Woke Up" in my collection Here, Everything is Dreaming.
Are
we asleep in regular life and awake in the dream world? Sometimes it feels like
that, and I play with the fluctuations in our sense of reality in “I Dreamed I
Woke Up”.
When I close my eyes, I often have the sense of waking in another landscape, among people who may have been waiting for me. Then there is that phenomenon of “false awakening”. Within a dream, you sleep and wake up, to find later that you were in another level of the dream, not yet back in the body in the bed. Such experiences mark transits from outer to inner courtyards of dreaming, and when we learn to recognize what is going on, this deepens our practice of conscious dreaming.
When I close my eyes, I often have the sense of waking in another landscape, among people who may have been waiting for me. Then there is that phenomenon of “false awakening”. Within a dream, you sleep and wake up, to find later that you were in another level of the dream, not yet back in the body in the bed. Such experiences mark transits from outer to inner courtyards of dreaming, and when we learn to recognize what is going on, this deepens our practice of conscious dreaming.
"Return from Earth Mountain". Oil crayons. (c) Robert Moss
2 comments:
Thanks, Robert! Not sure if you've been to the Southern Oregon Coast, but it is a magical place. The dreamtime is magic too. All the best!
-David Lovell
I've driven south of Yachats and spent a weekend at Manzanita (on the north end) where a local said to me during a 5-minute pause in the rain, "Enjoy the rareness". I have written poems from experiences I have had in Oregon, on that driftwood coast and under the dormant volcanoes called the Sisters (who spoke to me) but especially in the Columbia River gorge.
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