Dreams, Reflections

“Global Reset: A Dream…?”

I had a dream today…

I know, I know, it’s just a dream, and regardless of how you feel about them, dreams are just dreams.  Not reality.  At least, not most of the time anyway…

Most dreams are a mish mash of memory, sensory data, symbolism and nonsense, usually all at the same time, and rarely to be taken literally.  But every once in a while, some literal truth sneaks in, some sense of what is coming or what has occurred; it is unfortunate that such realizations, though, are often borne of hindsight.  We cannot really know, it seems, which dreams, or parts of dreams, might reasonably be taken literally, and what parts need interpretation or forgetting, prior to events revealing themselves.

Take a dream (or portion thereof) I had last week in which I was informed, or discovered, that my immune system had been compromised.  In the dream I was witness to a stranger’s pain as she was informed of her latest diagnosis, and in explaining to my dream companion the nature of the interaction, I mentioned that my own immune system had been compromised, and soon I would be sick.  I tried to “negotiate” with the dream tellers what that illness might involve, seeking to minimize its impact, and soften the blow to the other “patient” in the dream as well, but accepted eventually that my wants were not to be this time, in this dream anyway…

And now, a week later, I’m lying in bed, sick, and my friend has received the very diagnosis I dreamed last week…  Coincidence?  Perhaps.  If I believed in them…

And when you complicate matters with the idea of lucid dreaming (those dreams in which the dreamer knows they are dreaming while doing so), the formula becomes even more difficult to translate, because then “wishful thinking” becomes a part of the mix…

I am a lucid dreamer.  Not always, of course, but quite frequently.  And I am not alone in my dreams quite often; there is a person or presence slightly behind me to my right with whom I discuss the dream while it is occurring.  He will often point out subtleties I missed, make suggestions on how things might progress, which I may then employ in developing and directing the dream.  More commonly, though, he acts as a sounding board, allowing me to “speak aloud” my understanding of the dream, while dreaming, so I may wake with a clear memory of what transpired.

I tend to refer to him as my dream mentor, and he has been with me so long now, that we have developed “shortcuts” in our communications; I can sometimes understand his message or intent simply by the way he projects his mood; in essence, I “feel” his communication rather than “hear” it.

And I wonder sometimes at my utter inability to remember, while dreaming, to turn around or look over my shoulder in an attempt to actually see him!  For in all the years that we have dreamed together, I have never once managed to identify him.  I know he is there.  We communicate.  He aids me in dream recall, manipulation, and interpretation.  I recognize his presence, and his voice.  But I have never seen his face.

I guess that has to be enough for now, for that is how it is…

But I seriously digress here.  I set out to share my dream today and have, instead, fallen into an exploration of dreaming itself.  I do not wish to begin a debate on the truth or falsity of dreams.  But such is the way with dreams, is it not?  One thought leads to another, and the dream morphs to compensate, until you find your self far off the beaten path you’d begun to follow…

And this is when my mentor would step in, as I feel him arriving now, a solid presence in a changeable landscape, bringing order into the chaos of my rambling thoughts…

Welcome, my friend…

Now…  About that dream…

I will spare you all the gory, convoluted details of a fever dream of mine, and focus instead on the last details, as they appear to be the only relevant ones.  In that final portion, I became aware that all the world, including myself in the dream state, had been rendered “unconscious” for a brief time, reprogrammed, and then the whole system had been “rebooted” with this new programming in place.  In essence, the Matrix had been reset…

I was only aware of it because I was dreaming at the time it occurred, and the discontinuity of that dream was noticeable to me.  I discussed this happening with my mentor, slowly becoming aware of the term “global reset” reverberating deep within my mind.  And it was then that it occurred to me that perhaps this was the very change we had all been waiting for…

While it was certainly true that we remain “slaves” to the system, it nonetheless “felt” better to me, as our new programmers seemed somehow less malevolent than our former keepers.  And I mentioned to my mentor that I thought it a clever and kind way to make the changes that must occur.  For most would be completely unaware of the change at all; whatever subtle alterations became apparent could be easily shrugged off as faulty memory or perception.  And those who were aware would be hard-pressed to identify those changes, or remain vigilant to seeking them…

Which naturally led to a discussion with others who were aware of the change, in a message board format.  Unaware of their actual identities, I had only their opinions by which to know them.  And the ethics of such a reset was the topic of discussion…

Some were appalled that we were still enslaved, however kind our new captors might appear.  Others believed that this was the most compassionate approach to implementing these much needed changes.  Still others argued that if the changes were so obscure and subtle that most would remain oblivious, did they really count as change at all?

It was this last line of thought that intrigued me most, as I was also curious how those “changes” would manifest in the “real” world.  I decided to wake up and see for myself, not really seeing any point to the ongoing debate; what’s done was done (or not, perhaps), but my awareness of its doing gave me something of an advantage in the outside world, one I was eager to explore…

So I woke up, rolled over, got my bearings in the waking world…

But the dream kept pulling me back in…

Until I actually got annoyed!  I mean, what is the point of altering our waking reality, however subtly, if you’re not going to let me experience it?!

It took me another half hour to succeed in angrily rolling out of bed.  Literally!  As in I had to actually roll myself out of bed and catch myself from falling before waking consciousness returned and stayed.  So I made coffee, and pondered the significance of this dream I’d had, aware, of course, that I am sick with fever, drowning in slime, and dizzy from cold medication…

Nothing seemed to have changed in my immediate environment anyway.  I was more than a little disappointed, I admit, having to acknowledge that sometimes a dream is just a dream…

And then the old dog I live with, the one with bladder control issues, stumbled downstairs.  I heard her.  Then remembered I had closed the outside door.  Shit!  So up I jump to run after her, arriving in time to let her out…  All seems to return to normal.  So I head out front for a smoke, as long as I’m downstairs…

While out there, I notice the oddest thing – a white woman I’ve never seen before rides placidly by on a bright yellow bicycle.  The incongruity of such a sight in my neighborhood gives me pause, and cause, to remember my dream once more.  It is the very same kind of incongruity that often tells me when I am dreaming, being just odd enough to raise my brow at, and question, before realizing I’m in a dream, and I have just become lucid…

And then I notice the dog is back, lying in the doorway, waiting for me.  This is unusual on two counts: first, she is my roommate’s dog, always, never leaving her side unless she needs something from me; second, because she has bad hips, so coming back downstairs so soon after struggling to get back up them is extremely unusual.  I panic, thinking she hadn’t finished her business before, and reaching for the door thinking to let her out back again, I realize…  I actually ran down the stairs before to let her out the first time!  But I can’t run.  Nor can I get down the stairs quickly, due to my bad hips and knees.  But my knees and hips don’t hurt anymore…

And, having made her point at last, I guess, the old dog headed upstairs to be with her person again.  Like a dream, replaying a sequence over and over again, until I get the point…

I mentioned all this to my friend when I made it upstairs again myself, and she agreed the dog had been acting weird.  But all seemed normal now…

And it was all just a dream anyhow…

Or so it seemed…

A dream…?

 

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