I’m in the back of a van traveling down the road. The two people in the front are friends of mine. I’m in a strange sort of half awake, half dream state - like I know I’m probably dreaming but I’m enjoying it so I don’t care.

We stop at an old run down gas station, it looks abandoned. I get out and walk around back. There’s a bunch of people camping out on a large concrete slab and somehow it makes me happy. I’m aware that civilization has collapsed and we’re all living in a post-apocalyptic world. We’re back to tribal living, surviving with our community and our simple living and our gardens. Building our city. My best friend walks up to me and it’s like alright Buddy’s here. Then I wake up.

Where do dreams come from? Do you ever wonder that? And why is it so easy for us to believe they’re real? I’ve been thinking about that alot lately. Is the waking state a dream too and we’re just convinced that it’s real? It’s very rare that I wake up in my own dreams, it’s only after I open my eyes that I realize I’ve been tricked.

Waking up from bad dreams I feel bad, waking up from good dreams I feel good even though I’m aware that they were just dreams. Why is that?

Dreams come from our brain obviously. It creates the movie and shows it on the screen of our consciousness. But where does it come up with the script? Who is in charge of the production? Ancient people thought dreams were oracles, had meaning that could be interpreted. They were auguries and treated as messages from the gods. I’m not sure who my dreams are a message from or even if they are a message.

I once had a dream where I was flying thru the forest with rocket energy coming out of the palms of my hands. I was being guided, in a way, I knew I was going to a secret location where I would meet a friend. This dream took place in the middle of the night in a cottage near the Glastonbury Tor, a place where the ley lines cross and a peculiar energy abides. The really peculiar thing is that when I woke up I remembered it not as a dream but as something that really happened. To this day I don’t know if it was a dream or not.

I remember I was learning how to use the rocket energy, how to go up, how to go left, how to go right. There were kids standing around watching me and they thought it was weird so they started throwing stones at me. I took off.

Anyways I was being guided to a rendezvous place deep in the forest, flying thru the trees. That’s all I remember. Don’t remember if my friend actually made it or not.

Gilgamesh had dreams that were portends. A huge boulder falls out of the sky and lands at his feet. People come and caress it, cry over it. Gilgamesh tries to lift it but he can’t. Soon Enkidu the wild man will enter his life and the life of the city - ancient Uruk. They become buddies, BFF, have adventures, kill monsters, taunt the gods. Enkidu has dreams too, he dreams that scrawny birds are eating his flesh, that he’s drinking dust and he calls out to Gilgamesh for help but Gilgamesh doesn’t come. That was a portent too.

What occurs to me about dreams is that the brain is doing what it always does - creating a world for us. When we’re not asleep it creates a world out of all the sensory input it’s receiving from our eyes, ears, nose, everything. It’s just electrical impulses until it reaches our brain and gets rendered it into some kind of useful, functional reality. When we’re asleep our brain is creating a reality out of our memories and stuff bouncing around in our head. Who knows how many layers of unknown memories lie hidden in our brain? There, but we’re not really conscious of them. At any rate the brain builds our dreams out of something, some elements it finds somewhere and assembles them with it’s own logic. And for some reason we can’t tell the difference.

Primordial. That’s one way to look at it. Directly linked to our subconscious. No wonder ancient people thought they were messages from the gods.

And so here we are in the waking dream. Awake or asleep. In the eternal moment. Free.

Like the song says:

I close my eyes and see colors that don’t exist in the day.Your scent mixes with the wind and takes me further and further.The music explodes, but it’s soft. My heart races,but it’s calmand even if I go, I know I’ll return to this moment.

Love that frees, freedom that envelopesthere is no line between usonly the sound, only the now.Only.In the end it doesn’t matter where we goif the steps follow the same rhythm.if your gaze still finds myself in the middle of any crowd.Love that frees. Freedom that envelopesforever dancingin this eternal moment.Always.

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