Dreaming myself

This is a posting I have also done on Diving Deeper

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Til the day I understood what real dreaming is I remember always wanting to be somewhere - anywhere but where I was. Today I know what real dreaming is and therefore I am here, exactly where I want to be, right now.

I close my eyes and take a deep inhale of this air mixture of smog, millions of people moving, bakeries sugar flower blending with hamburger joint greasy smell and occasional poisoned carbon dioxide gasping tree on the sideway. The mixture is hot, somewhat middle-aged, like me. Not that I'm hot by own means, not any longer. My temper is calm.

To inhale this place, to get its vibe, I close my eyes and breathe with my skin with my arms extended and fingers spread out. I have this invisible feeling, but certainly some accidental by passers throw an eye on the strange lady. Inside my own cocoon I feel safe to feel, to dream.

Dreaming myself, dreaming my life and everything in it, heartbeat for heartbeat. Instead of wondering who I am I just am who I dream that I am. I am.

Today, now, I will dream myself into these people's minds, inside their hopes and fears, their desires and demons. These millions of unique and at the same time so heart wrenchingly similar thoughts and hopes. Is there anything else than victims and villains walking by?

Career dreams by costume wearing persons. They have many plans how to show off, how to place themselves in better position. Better in their eyes I may add, smiling inwards. Bottom line is - make more money. And money is the issue for the major part of people, how to get more, how to spend more, how afford that thing and this item. How to collect things, drugs, affection.

Relationship problems and problems to get into a relationship. Find that illusive other completing half of yourself. Having sex. A lot of sexual thoughts fly around in people's minds. I can sense the ones that had some, right this morning. A young man, smiling secretly had it with another man, just one hour ago. He is happy and so is his friend as far as he knows. He is not thinking about money or his career as bartender.

A monk is passing by. He tries to collect his mind. He is scared. He ate a hotdog two blocks from here. Is he about to ruin his long flawless life because of relenting to a desire for meat, something he is not supposed to eat? He is imagining all that karma from the meat he just received inside his system, digesting and consuming it. He helped to kill a living being by purchasing that piece of meat. His gluttony with the hotdog just ten minutes ago makes his trouble filled stomach revolt and he end up in throwing up the messy rests of the hotdog by the sideway wall.

People jump aside and some of them curse "watch out man" or "idiot" perhaps. No-one there to ask if the monk needs help. No, they are only afraid if his vomit has stained on them and their more or less pensive outfits.

I open my eyes.

An older lady is looking at me and she seems to be at unease. Yes, I think I killed her in another life. I send the hottest love beam straight into her thru my eyes. That beam is collected from the dreamy dusts of the moon itself. Moon, that is present together with the sun today, pale, but strong. My moon, the reflector, the best sender without self being the source. Our fabulous moon.

And I see myself.

~ o ~

Nono