I have the most annoying ears ever. Well, for starters, I only have one that functions, which makes echolocating kind of impossible - so I'll never be a successful bat.
When the other one "goes down," crisis ensues ... and lately my "good" ear has been going down with unnerving frequency. Yuck.
So anyway, while leafing through the NY Times magazine, waiting to be called for another audiogram, I learned that Gloria Vanderbilt gets a lot of ideas for her paintings in her dreams.
Whoa. The Gloria Vanderbilt I knew made designer jeans back in the 1970s, and the swan logo was cool. She paints too?
And takes her dreams seriously?
Wow! So cool to be in such great company!
Her piece ends with her saying: "I always look forward to going to sleep."
Me too -
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Saturday, September 27, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Political Dreaming: John McCain
John and Cindy McCain beckon me to come have dinner in a dark 70s style family room area. I am their daughter. There is a cheap table and 4-chair set. The table is dark laminate and the chairs are vinyl flowered with a gold handle at the back and gold legs. They are very strict. The dinner is regimented. No one speaks. No one enjoys.
YUCK. I don't like at all what this evokes.
-Regimentation
-Stability to the point of ossification
-Silence
-Stagflation
-Zippo joie de vivre
YUCK. I don't like at all what this evokes.
-Regimentation
-Stability to the point of ossification
-Silence
-Stagflation
-Zippo joie de vivre
Monday, September 22, 2008
La-di-da, la-di-da, la la.
Annie Hall. Strange how a film I watched when VCRs were a big deal still has resonance. I had forgotten she, Annie, was from Wisconsin. And I had forgotten that dreams could be used as weapons. Yuck.
In the following exerpt, Annie tells Alvy about her conversation with her analyst:
Annie: I told her my dream and then I cried.
Alvy: Cried? I have never once cried. That's fantastic to me. I whine. I sit and I whine.
Annie: Wait a minute Alvy. In my dream, Frank Sinatra is holding his pillow across my face and I can't breathe...strangling me...
Alvy: No kidding. Oh sure! Because he's a singer and you're a singer. You know, so it's perfect. So you're trying to suffocate yourself. It makes perfect sense. It's a perfect analytic kind of insight.
Annie: She said your name was Alvy Singer.
Alvy: What do you mean? Me?
Annie: Yeah, yeah you. Because in the dream, I break Sinatra's glasses.
Alvy: Sinatra had glasses? You never said Sinatra had glasses. So what are you saying? That I'm suffocating you?...
Annie: Oh and God, Alvy, I did this really terrible thing to him. Because then when he sang, it was in this real high-pitched voice.
Alvy: What did the doctor say?
Annie: Well, she said that I should probably come five times a week. And you know something? I don't think I mind analysis at all.
Sigh.
I had also forgotten about the perception of the analyst as "expert" - the one who holds the insights - and that any information shared can flip into further hourly sessions.
Double yuck, squared.
The dreamer, not the analyst, the ex-lover, the parent, is the authority on the ultimate meaning(s) of the dream. End of story.
In the following exerpt, Annie tells Alvy about her conversation with her analyst:
Annie: I told her my dream and then I cried.
Alvy: Cried? I have never once cried. That's fantastic to me. I whine. I sit and I whine.
Annie: Wait a minute Alvy. In my dream, Frank Sinatra is holding his pillow across my face and I can't breathe...strangling me...
Alvy: No kidding. Oh sure! Because he's a singer and you're a singer. You know, so it's perfect. So you're trying to suffocate yourself. It makes perfect sense. It's a perfect analytic kind of insight.
Annie: She said your name was Alvy Singer.
Alvy: What do you mean? Me?
Annie: Yeah, yeah you. Because in the dream, I break Sinatra's glasses.
Alvy: Sinatra had glasses? You never said Sinatra had glasses. So what are you saying? That I'm suffocating you?...
Annie: Oh and God, Alvy, I did this really terrible thing to him. Because then when he sang, it was in this real high-pitched voice.
Alvy: What did the doctor say?
Annie: Well, she said that I should probably come five times a week. And you know something? I don't think I mind analysis at all.
Sigh.
I had also forgotten about the perception of the analyst as "expert" - the one who holds the insights - and that any information shared can flip into further hourly sessions.
Double yuck, squared.
The dreamer, not the analyst, the ex-lover, the parent, is the authority on the ultimate meaning(s) of the dream. End of story.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Flying, Floating Dreams
Ever have any? What are they like for you? Positive? Exhilarating?
Do you fly with arms outstretched? to the side like an airplane or to the front like Superman? or do you swim in the air?
Can you change altitude at will? Do you kick off from the ground, or do you just rise above?
The flying dreams I've had have been kind of awful - out of control, too fast, too high, too far.
A few nights ago, I had one where I was standing and, of my own volition, I floated up, pretty high, arranged my legs into winning and elegant form - toes pointed! - and floated back down gently.
What's striking here is not the flying or floating but the CHANGE from extreme, chaotic, and terrifying flying to something pleasant and manageable, where I could actually take a "higher view" of things without wanting to throw up.
Have you noticed changes like this is how you move or maneuver in dreams? Pay attention to them - how do they relate to your life changes?
Do you fly with arms outstretched? to the side like an airplane or to the front like Superman? or do you swim in the air?
Can you change altitude at will? Do you kick off from the ground, or do you just rise above?
The flying dreams I've had have been kind of awful - out of control, too fast, too high, too far.
A few nights ago, I had one where I was standing and, of my own volition, I floated up, pretty high, arranged my legs into winning and elegant form - toes pointed! - and floated back down gently.
What's striking here is not the flying or floating but the CHANGE from extreme, chaotic, and terrifying flying to something pleasant and manageable, where I could actually take a "higher view" of things without wanting to throw up.
Have you noticed changes like this is how you move or maneuver in dreams? Pay attention to them - how do they relate to your life changes?
Learnings on the Run: What Happens When God Comes in a Dream
This week I listened to Speaking of Faith, on The Origins and Impact of Pentecostalism. The stories and history shared here were completely new to me, as I was brought up Catholic.
The interview features a big cheese professor, Cecil M. Robeck, Jr., Professor of Church History and Ecumenics and Director of the David J. DuPlessis Center for Christian Spirituality
School of Theology ... and when I heard him talking about taking action based on a dream he had, I almost tripped and fell onto the horse poop that lines the Groton Rail Trail:
Prof. Robeck: My involvement in the Vatican-Pentecostal Dialogue really came about as a result of a dream or a vision that I received in the middle of the night.
Ms. Tippett: OK.
Prof. Robeck: Well, at that particular time, I had been elected president of the Society for Pentecostal Studies. It was in 1982. And I was really struggling with what to talk about.
I was concerned about a particular split between an older group and a younger group of scholars and how they didn't value one another.
And I had been praying and asking God, "Please help me to give a word that will bring some sense of healing in this rift within the society."
[The man incubated a dream! How cool is that!!]
And, you know, I was awakened in the middle of the night with Jesus standing at the end of my bed saying to me, "Mel, I want you to talk about ecumenism." And I said, you know, "Lord, I …
Ms. Tippett: Which is reaching out to other churches.
Prof. Robeck: Yeah. I don't know anything about this and how is this relevant? You know, I went back to sleep.
And He woke me up again with the same words on the same night, saying, "I want you to speak about ecumenism."
And I said, "Lord, you know what our bylaws say. Here I am in the Assemblies of God, and I'm going to get in trouble if I do what You're asking me to do."
And I went back to sleep.
[This is where I almost fell into the piles, flabbergasted -
this is a man who petitions God for help,
and when the God he knows, adores, and petitions shows up, calls him by name, and tells him clearly and directly what to do - twice - he puts up an argument? ...
not saying I'm any better - I'm just saying this is pretty funny. The Catholic girl inside me is chiding: do as you're told.]
And He woke me up a third time with the same words.
...
And so I said, "Yes." And I went back to sleep.
[*whew!*]
The next day, I went to my office and I began looking, thinking what in the world can I say about ecumenism that will bring about the healing of this rift? I didn't have a clue.
So I thought, well, how do I even approach this? Because everything I'd ever heard about ecumenism within the Assemblies of God had been negative. So I began looking at the earliest documents that I had.
Everywhere I went there was this appeal to John Chapter 17, where Jesus is praying to the Father and He is saying, you know, "Lord, I want you to keep them, and I want them to be one, as we are one," OK?
And it suddenly struck me that the very essence, the very core of the whole question about unity between Christians is wound up in that prayer of Jesus.
And it was the kind of tracing out of that history, which became my presidential address.
And there you go. What a terrific solution to a vexing problem!
When, in dreams, you get the same message - three times, clearly and directly - from God, your dream source, or whatever. It's probably good to listen and take the recommended action.
The interview features a big cheese professor, Cecil M. Robeck, Jr., Professor of Church History and Ecumenics and Director of the David J. DuPlessis Center for Christian Spirituality
School of Theology ... and when I heard him talking about taking action based on a dream he had, I almost tripped and fell onto the horse poop that lines the Groton Rail Trail:
Prof. Robeck: My involvement in the Vatican-Pentecostal Dialogue really came about as a result of a dream or a vision that I received in the middle of the night.
Ms. Tippett: OK.
Prof. Robeck: Well, at that particular time, I had been elected president of the Society for Pentecostal Studies. It was in 1982. And I was really struggling with what to talk about.
I was concerned about a particular split between an older group and a younger group of scholars and how they didn't value one another.
And I had been praying and asking God, "Please help me to give a word that will bring some sense of healing in this rift within the society."
[The man incubated a dream! How cool is that!!]
And, you know, I was awakened in the middle of the night with Jesus standing at the end of my bed saying to me, "Mel, I want you to talk about ecumenism." And I said, you know, "Lord, I …
Ms. Tippett: Which is reaching out to other churches.
Prof. Robeck: Yeah. I don't know anything about this and how is this relevant? You know, I went back to sleep.
And He woke me up again with the same words on the same night, saying, "I want you to speak about ecumenism."
And I said, "Lord, you know what our bylaws say. Here I am in the Assemblies of God, and I'm going to get in trouble if I do what You're asking me to do."
And I went back to sleep.
[This is where I almost fell into the piles, flabbergasted -
this is a man who petitions God for help,
and when the God he knows, adores, and petitions shows up, calls him by name, and tells him clearly and directly what to do - twice - he puts up an argument? ...
not saying I'm any better - I'm just saying this is pretty funny. The Catholic girl inside me is chiding: do as you're told.]
And He woke me up a third time with the same words.
...
And so I said, "Yes." And I went back to sleep.
[*whew!*]
The next day, I went to my office and I began looking, thinking what in the world can I say about ecumenism that will bring about the healing of this rift? I didn't have a clue.
So I thought, well, how do I even approach this? Because everything I'd ever heard about ecumenism within the Assemblies of God had been negative. So I began looking at the earliest documents that I had.
Everywhere I went there was this appeal to John Chapter 17, where Jesus is praying to the Father and He is saying, you know, "Lord, I want you to keep them, and I want them to be one, as we are one," OK?
And it suddenly struck me that the very essence, the very core of the whole question about unity between Christians is wound up in that prayer of Jesus.
And it was the kind of tracing out of that history, which became my presidential address.
And there you go. What a terrific solution to a vexing problem!
When, in dreams, you get the same message - three times, clearly and directly - from God, your dream source, or whatever. It's probably good to listen and take the recommended action.
Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream
This is not the place I use to talk about my dreams - how boring is that?
I did have a weird one last night ... wish it could have been the one in this song. For some reason I can't get the Simon & Garfunkel singsongy version out of my head:
Last night I had the strangest dream
I'd ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war
I dreamed I saw a mighty room
And the room was filled with men
And the paper they were signing said
They'd never fight again
... there's more to this song, with signing of papers, joining of hands, grateful praying, dancing.
*sigh.*
we could use some of that, I think.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
btw, in a couple of versions the room was filled with both women and men, which I found really neat - especially given this song came about in the 1950s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1955 Almanac Music, Inc.New York, N.Y.
words and music by Ed McCurdy
I did have a weird one last night ... wish it could have been the one in this song. For some reason I can't get the Simon & Garfunkel singsongy version out of my head:
Last night I had the strangest dream
I'd ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war
I dreamed I saw a mighty room
And the room was filled with men
And the paper they were signing said
They'd never fight again
... there's more to this song, with signing of papers, joining of hands, grateful praying, dancing.
*sigh.*
we could use some of that, I think.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
btw, in a couple of versions the room was filled with both women and men, which I found really neat - especially given this song came about in the 1950s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1955 Almanac Music, Inc.New York, N.Y.
words and music by Ed McCurdy
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Cool Customer
Again from Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking:
"I used to tell John my dreams, not to understand them but to get rid of them, clear my mind for the day." "Don't tell me your dream," he would say when I woke in the morning, but in the end he would listen."
Dreamer's choice, always.
"When he died I stopped having dreams.
In the early summer, I began to dream again, for the first time since it happened. Since I can no longer pass them off to John I find myself thinking about them.
...
In one dream I am hanging a braided belt in a closet when it breaks. About a third of the belt just drops off in my hands. I show the two pieces to John. I say (or he says, who knows in dreams) that this was his favorite belt. I determine (again, I think I determine, I should have determined, my half-waking mind tells me to do the right thing) to find him an identical braided belt."
It's interesting what stops and starts the flow of dreams (or their recall). Sometimes it's not even noticed that they're gone (or not remembered) until they return.
For me, a dream draught is indicative of a life out of whack. It took some doing to bring them back, but now that they are back, it feels good.
"I used to tell John my dreams, not to understand them but to get rid of them, clear my mind for the day." "Don't tell me your dream," he would say when I woke in the morning, but in the end he would listen."
Dreamer's choice, always.
"When he died I stopped having dreams.
In the early summer, I began to dream again, for the first time since it happened. Since I can no longer pass them off to John I find myself thinking about them.
...
In one dream I am hanging a braided belt in a closet when it breaks. About a third of the belt just drops off in my hands. I show the two pieces to John. I say (or he says, who knows in dreams) that this was his favorite belt. I determine (again, I think I determine, I should have determined, my half-waking mind tells me to do the right thing) to find him an identical braided belt."
It's interesting what stops and starts the flow of dreams (or their recall). Sometimes it's not even noticed that they're gone (or not remembered) until they return.
For me, a dream draught is indicative of a life out of whack. It took some doing to bring them back, but now that they are back, it feels good.
Friday, September 12, 2008
The Merging of Moon River and Dreamcurrent
"Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way"
*wave*
I'm goin' your way too, dream maker!
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way"
*wave*
I'm goin' your way too, dream maker!
Dreaming and Magical Thinking
Reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, three years after its popularity. (I work that way - or at least try to! I like investing in books that outlive their book-tour hype).
Magical Thinking moves through the sudden death of Didion's husband and her daughter's illness upon illness upon illness, all of which were compressed within a remarkably short period of time. The detachment of the writing and "magical thinking" are familiar to me. And oh to have that polish. But enough about me - onward to the point.
I'm reading along, and on p. 76, voila! Didion shares a dream.*
"A few years before that, in California, I had dreamed an image that, when I woke, I knew had been death: the image was that of an ice island, the jagged ridge seen from the air off one of the Channel Islands, except in this case all ice, translucent, a blued white, glittering in the sunlight.
Unlike dreams in which the dreamer is anticipating death, inexorably sentenced to die but not yet there, there was in this dream no dread. Both the ice island and the fall of the bright on West Fifty-seventh Street seemed on the contrary transcendent, more beautiful than I could say, yet there was no doubt in my mind that what I had seen was death."
What strikes me about the retelling of this dream is its clarity:
-clarity of image ("ice island"),
-clarity of perspective ("seen from the air"),
-clarity of emotion ("no dread"),
-clarity in at least one level of what the dream means ("what I had seen was death").
There's also a connection made between the dream image and a waking-life sighting ("quick sunlight dappling, yellow leaves falling").
If this dream were brought to me, I'd ask where the dreamer wanted to go first - there's so much to examine. Maybe the dreamer would say that she is fine with what she's done with the dream already ... but if she brought the dream to me, I'd guess she'd be curious about what else might be in there.
Certainly this dream is about death - as the dreamer has no doubt about that. But perhaps looking at those other characteristics brought forth in the retelling - like the ice island's jagged ridge, how the island glitters, how it's seen from the air ... off a Channel Island - might yield other insights - perhaps about death, or accepting a death - that could benefit the dreamer at the very time it came back to mind.
To Joan Didion: Thank you for sharing your dream. Thank you for sharing your year.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*this dream-sharing could certainly be a literary device - but, for the moment, I'm going to treat it as if it were not.
Magical Thinking moves through the sudden death of Didion's husband and her daughter's illness upon illness upon illness, all of which were compressed within a remarkably short period of time. The detachment of the writing and "magical thinking" are familiar to me. And oh to have that polish. But enough about me - onward to the point.
I'm reading along, and on p. 76, voila! Didion shares a dream.*
"A few years before that, in California, I had dreamed an image that, when I woke, I knew had been death: the image was that of an ice island, the jagged ridge seen from the air off one of the Channel Islands, except in this case all ice, translucent, a blued white, glittering in the sunlight.
Unlike dreams in which the dreamer is anticipating death, inexorably sentenced to die but not yet there, there was in this dream no dread. Both the ice island and the fall of the bright on West Fifty-seventh Street seemed on the contrary transcendent, more beautiful than I could say, yet there was no doubt in my mind that what I had seen was death."
What strikes me about the retelling of this dream is its clarity:
-clarity of image ("ice island"),
-clarity of perspective ("seen from the air"),
-clarity of emotion ("no dread"),
-clarity in at least one level of what the dream means ("what I had seen was death").
There's also a connection made between the dream image and a waking-life sighting ("quick sunlight dappling, yellow leaves falling").
If this dream were brought to me, I'd ask where the dreamer wanted to go first - there's so much to examine. Maybe the dreamer would say that she is fine with what she's done with the dream already ... but if she brought the dream to me, I'd guess she'd be curious about what else might be in there.
Certainly this dream is about death - as the dreamer has no doubt about that. But perhaps looking at those other characteristics brought forth in the retelling - like the ice island's jagged ridge, how the island glitters, how it's seen from the air ... off a Channel Island - might yield other insights - perhaps about death, or accepting a death - that could benefit the dreamer at the very time it came back to mind.
To Joan Didion: Thank you for sharing your dream. Thank you for sharing your year.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*this dream-sharing could certainly be a literary device - but, for the moment, I'm going to treat it as if it were not.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Dark Side of Daydreams
An earlier post goes into daydreams and where they might fit along the continuum between dreams and waking life thinking.
I came across an old article, seriously - from 1982 (what is this about cycling through the late 70s/early 80s ) which features a dark side of daydreams.
These daydreams seem to be the aspirational kind - the kind that can be broken ...
... where "half-secret old ambitions" lurk and appear at odd moments.
... where "I'd rather be" runs counter to and louder than "I am."
Cue On the Waterfront's Terry Malloy: "You don’t understand! I could have had class, I could have been a contender. I could have been somebody. Instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."
So sad, it seems like these daydreams prompt longing, dissatisfaction, disappointment with how one is, in the now.
The other kind of daydream, the simple loosening of thought, akin to reverie or musing, takes people in a different direction. They stimulate creativity and flow and possibility.
I promote those kinds of daydreams.
I came across an old article, seriously - from 1982 (what is this about cycling through the late 70s/early 80s ) which features a dark side of daydreams.
These daydreams seem to be the aspirational kind - the kind that can be broken ...
... where "half-secret old ambitions" lurk and appear at odd moments.
... where "I'd rather be" runs counter to and louder than "I am."
Cue On the Waterfront's Terry Malloy: "You don’t understand! I could have had class, I could have been a contender. I could have been somebody. Instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."
So sad, it seems like these daydreams prompt longing, dissatisfaction, disappointment with how one is, in the now.
The other kind of daydream, the simple loosening of thought, akin to reverie or musing, takes people in a different direction. They stimulate creativity and flow and possibility.
I promote those kinds of daydreams.
Free Dreams and Economic Cycles
It feels a lot like the late 70s/early 80s these days.
Maybe in part because I'm feeling like a seventh grader, but with drier skin.
Maybe also because I've seen red zebra print featured more than once as acceptable daywear (NO! Please Mass-Market-Fashion-God, please don't haul out those rainbow shirts where the rainbow arcs down the three-quarter sleeves.)
Maybe because the economy continues to stink, worse that I did as a seventh grader.
Ah, but in 1979, Blondie reminded us that dreaming - night or aspirational - is free.
"When I met you in the restaurant
You could tell I was no debutante
You asked me what's my pleasure
A movie or a measure?
I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming
Dreaming is free"
Happily, dreaming continues to be free.
Freer than water! Freer than air!
Maybe in part because I'm feeling like a seventh grader, but with drier skin.
Maybe also because I've seen red zebra print featured more than once as acceptable daywear (NO! Please Mass-Market-Fashion-God, please don't haul out those rainbow shirts where the rainbow arcs down the three-quarter sleeves.)
Maybe because the economy continues to stink, worse that I did as a seventh grader.
Ah, but in 1979, Blondie reminded us that dreaming - night or aspirational - is free.
"When I met you in the restaurant
You could tell I was no debutante
You asked me what's my pleasure
A movie or a measure?
I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming
Dreaming is free"
Happily, dreaming continues to be free.
Freer than water! Freer than air!
Broken Dreams?
Lately I've been seeing a lot of mentions of these things called "broken dreams" ...
"Broken Dreams" makes me think a bunch of things:
-of Green Day's song, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
-the painting with the same title, featuring James Dean (by Gottfried Helnwein).
-a quote from the "Desiderata", a prose-poem on attaining happiness in life: "With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."
-and a piece of a William Butler Yeats poem:
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
These dreams that are broken seem to be of the aspirational variety.
Promises unfulfilled, unacted upon - castles in the air unbuilt.
Maybe representing a wrecking ball taken to the air-castles.
A wrecking ball taken to life's ordinary plans, even.
Or, in the case of James Dean, a promising life ended too quickly.
Interestingly, Aerosmith, in the seminal "Dream On," seems to counsel: Keep trying despite setbacks:
-"Isn't that the way/Everybody's got their dues in life to pay"
-"You got to lose to know how to win"
-"Dream until your dream comes true"
Of course, some have taken Dream On in the other direction ... as a stamp of disapproval, like that goal you set? Dream On!
But those other dreams besides the aspirational - the night dreams - can they be broken too? That I'm not so sure about.
There are dreams that feature negative events. There are dream fragments.
But all night dreams come in the service of health and wholeness.
They don't break.
In fact, they can heal.
"Broken Dreams" makes me think a bunch of things:
-of Green Day's song, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
-the painting with the same title, featuring James Dean (by Gottfried Helnwein).
-a quote from the "Desiderata", a prose-poem on attaining happiness in life: "With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."
-and a piece of a William Butler Yeats poem:
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
These dreams that are broken seem to be of the aspirational variety.
Promises unfulfilled, unacted upon - castles in the air unbuilt.
Maybe representing a wrecking ball taken to the air-castles.
A wrecking ball taken to life's ordinary plans, even.
Or, in the case of James Dean, a promising life ended too quickly.
Interestingly, Aerosmith, in the seminal "Dream On," seems to counsel: Keep trying despite setbacks:
-"Isn't that the way/Everybody's got their dues in life to pay"
-"You got to lose to know how to win"
-"Dream until your dream comes true"
Of course, some have taken Dream On in the other direction ... as a stamp of disapproval, like that goal you set? Dream On!
But those other dreams besides the aspirational - the night dreams - can they be broken too? That I'm not so sure about.
There are dreams that feature negative events. There are dream fragments.
But all night dreams come in the service of health and wholeness.
They don't break.
In fact, they can heal.
Cat's Dream
Going to sidestep the notion of whether cats do dream (why wouldn't they?) and dive right into the English translation of a Pablo Neruda poem I found, called "Cats' Dream" ...
"Sleep, sleep, nocturnal cat,
with your ceremonies of a bishop
and your mustache of stone:
supervise all our dreams,
manage the darkness
of our slumbered powers
with your sanguinary heart
and the long collar of your tail."
Why do I get the feeling that one of the cats in question is sleeping on the poet's head?
... You know, I never really thought of dreams as being subject to supervision ... maybe this word is an artifact of the translation (Neruda wrote in Spanish) ... or maybe the cats have a more "hands off" management style.
"Sleep, sleep, nocturnal cat,
with your ceremonies of a bishop
and your mustache of stone:
supervise all our dreams,
manage the darkness
of our slumbered powers
with your sanguinary heart
and the long collar of your tail."
Why do I get the feeling that one of the cats in question is sleeping on the poet's head?
... You know, I never really thought of dreams as being subject to supervision ... maybe this word is an artifact of the translation (Neruda wrote in Spanish) ... or maybe the cats have a more "hands off" management style.
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