Wednesday, May 18, 2005

The Dreamtime

I am waking up early these days--before 7, which is unusual for me.
I have lots of dreams, densely peopled with figures I yearn for, have never met, or have lost.
I dreamed I was playing with a five year old boy; I dreamed about the ex of mine I always dream about--he usually shows up livid, chews me out with the bitterest invective, and then leaves me. This time he was completely drunk; still livid, but so drunk that he could barely keep it together. He was as vicious as ever. I missed him as much as ever. And then I dreamed I was screaming at my boss; we were having a fight about the poor job I've done at the gallery, and I was calling her cunt at the top of my lungs. So much violence in these dreams. Vivid, as if televised, peopled with ham actors.

And yet...

So the buddhists would say that emotions of waking life are also like dreams, and the emotions in a dream doubly so. Images that race like clouds. I don't know. It is painful, even when I wake up and know it was a dream, or possibly especially.

We found the dreamtime of the seals in Big Sur, my sister and I.
According to Gary Snyder, in "The Practice of the Wild", the aborigines regard the dreamtime as specific to a sacred place, a place that is a kind of cradle of the essence of a particular animal or spirit. So a dreamtime of kangaroos would not only host plentiful living kangaroos, but would be a nursery for the kangaroo spirit, regenerative. This dreamtime of the seals really did feel otherworldly. It was at Point Lobos, in whalers cove. She and I were walking and we heard snoring coming from the water. There was a seal, floating upright, fully asleep, snoring. The more we looked, the more we saw--sleeping seals, a grove of them, all bobbing in the water. The cove was dreaming. Even among the presence of divers and lookers on, the seals slept in the cold water, sinking down (still asleep) to lie along the rocky bottom, and then buoying back up, (as a sleeper will turn their face to the cool side of the pillow). .

1 Comments:

Blogger Boz said...

Your dreams are a lot more fleshed out than mine.

11:45 AM  

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