Freaky ten minute dream
Lately for some imperceptible reason, I’ve been waking up at the unrelentingly early hour of 7:14, well, once it was 7:13, but close enough-it’s been precisely 7:14 often enough to have me wondering… WTF? What happens at 7:14?
This morning, that moment was followed by slipping gratefully back into the dream world on an odyssey of discovery.
I was strolling along a highway with two lovely young women. My companions were hastening their steps because there had been an accident and their assistance was needed… On the way, I was distracted by sparkling objects in the gravelly ditch by the side of the road.
One of the ladies got a call on her cell phone-another accident!-the need was dire, so they bade me goodbye and flew on ahead.
I went to investigate the pretty gleam I had seen earlier. It drew me in and within moments I had found a dozen tiny, phantasmagoric shells. They were incredible, intricate, irridescent marvels of perfection. I was entranced and delighted, gathering them up, putting the smallest ones(no bigger than a pea) into a larger one, about the size of a child’s teacup.
I couldn’t wait to take them home and show Sam.
As I gathered them up, a large, slightly rough-looking black man knelt beside me, asking what I’d found. I moved away, disconcerted, nervous and unwilling to share my pretty, new treasures.
I started back the way I’d come, hurrying along the road… A small shell dropped, then another. I hesitated, wanting to pick them up, but afraid. Finally, my greed won out and I stopped, retraced my steps… I found one, but when I looked at it, it was grey, dull, broken. The same thing with the next one! Shocked, I looked at my treasure trove, still clutched in my hand. All the lustrous, miraculous sparkle was gone. No precious treasures, no marvelous, shimmering, ethereal colors.
My hand held nothing but broken, lifeless bits.
I woke. It was 7:24.
The dream had taken less than ten minutes of real world time. The teaching will probably take the rest of my life.
Grasping, fearful mind is the hardest thing to let go of.
Guess that’s what I get for spending the weekend sitting in Shambala meditation training.