"nothing is more honest then a dream"
~ F. F.
How do you begin to dream after you’ve forgotten how to.
How do you speak a language the words of which feel so foreign now, in the cavity of your mouth.
How do you speak a language which once, long ago was so close but now is almost lost… drowning in a distant fog.
How do you speak a language that has forgotten … you;
a dream where there is no space for you.
It’s a sad and general understanding that today’s time do not appreciate the dream as a vital part of our human experience. Often the dream is seen just as chemical activities in the brain. Wires.
Yes, while some dreams might be just that, others might not be. Unfortunately, the way science attempts to explain the dream, doesn’t enrich our lives, doesn’t inform the awoke state.
Our grandparents, great-grandparents and the far distant ancient knew about the dream and how to work with it. They knew how to walk the line between dream and awake.
The wee hours of the night. As usual I drift into unveiling the layers of the dark, departing my daily mind. I allow to be wrapped in a blanket of images, sounds, textures and the whispers of the night walkers.
I am a walker too. I walk the night. I walk the dream.
My tribe walks with me. We dive in the deep, deep ocean. We move through the gloomy waters. Then - a torch in my hand!... I light it and it brings clarity around – so much to explore, so much is hidden behind the shadows. The light from my torch reveals ancient statutes; Things that have been hidden for such long time… Egyptian? I sense a certain presence. I know it studies me. We study each other. We wait for the other to make a move. The water swirls and I know the owner of the hidden presence moved away, it sank into the shadows behind the statues, where the light of my torch couldn’t reach.
Suddenly – a heavy feeling in my chest. Fear? Perhaps. Not sure. I should go back, to the futuristic submarine that carried me here. Yes, I should, but I don’t know how. There are no roads at the bottom of the ocean. The deep is pulling me in, I allow it. I know I am not alone, my tribe is with me.
… A feeling of wonder, an overwhelming feeling of discovery. My body buzzing … sounds of bells, celebrating.
I wake up touched by the chills of the morning, creeping from under the window frame. I barely feel my skin against the bed linen. The ocean still carries me, and the feeling of calm and wonder are still so alive within me. The sounds of the day slowly invade my space.
It’s time for breakfast.
She opens her eyes and looks around. Dreams are always welcomed in our sessions. Dreams from last week, or from years ago. Old but still so fresh in her inner space. We pay attention to how important it is to her to retain the feeling of the dream, especially if it is a dream of wonder and nourishment.
Together we follow the dream in the awake state; it moves around ... in the room, in the space between us. As we both interact with it, it becomes 'our dream', something she was not happy with in the beginning. She used to say “It's no longer my dream once I speak it out. It takes a life of its own.”
“Thanks for inviting me in.”
A gentle silence envelopes us both.
© Vassilka Vass, 2022