Have you ever awoken from a dream to find
that you had only awoken from a dream again?
The phenomenon is called Illucid Dreaming.
It is the combining of the conscious and unconscious
minds in a dream state. The conscious mind,
with its rational and relentless desire to
make sense and organization out of everything
that it thinks, allows the unconscious mind,
with its unruly behavior and ad-hoc senses
to coexist for a few precious moments in time.
Command of the illucid dream state can be
a powerful tool. Relax, open your mind, read
on, and enjoy.
My heart echoes in my eyes as I read the
words of N. Scott Momaday, "My Remembering
of My Land."
A warm mist encircles me and I feel my head
grow heavy and comfort become me as the embrace
of mother once did so many years ago. Trusting.
My feet tingle, deep slumber is not so far
away, and the mist tightens its circle.
My conscious mind surrenders.
As sleep inhales my body, I inhale the mist
and it fills my head like the wind fills a
curtain on an open window. And then it exists.
Quiet falls heavy and thoughts lay strewn
like autumn leaves upon the ground. My senses
tell me the mist is near.
A time of harmonics. Where symphonies begin
with the morning dawn and end with the bedding
sun. Where each has a part to play and my
part is to listen, to look, to learn. Reality
has gone. Alas, my lost days receive me.
Entering slowly, caution abides me. Curiosity
and wonder take the lead and I see this day,
this time, and remember it well. It is for
play. It once fulfilled the simple desires
of my child heart, questions of my unmade
mind, and needs of my inventions It once was
alive. And here, it lives again.
Tears ran from my eyes, but I drove on. On
and on--I was going home. Oh, this endless
road of thirty miles, it knows no curves,
no hills. There is scarce a sight to break
the wall of brush that abates the road, that
stands like soldiers guarding the swamp, slowing
only now and again an aimless deer to pass
unchecked. The mind can wander when not provoked
to thought. Mine mind kept going home.
And home was where I was headed. Sixteen
long years had gone, slipped away like smoke
somehow, drifting into life, and I had not
been home. I went in quest of my inner strength.
Sent on my journey with two children, and
one on the way. It was the final journey.
In search of my Self and seeking my heart.
I searched the mountain tops, the flats of
the dusty prairie. Through the west, I longed
for me; through the south, I sought me. I
looked to the monarchy of the saints, the
kingdoms of the parties, and to other families.
But as a snail taken from his home leaving
only an empty shell, so too was my search.
The trees began to blend and my eyes could
not discern where the road ended and the swamp
began. The clouds flew by as lights in a hospital
corridor. And I gasp as my car skid round
the corner of the drive and stopped in the
way of the place I had known so long as home.
There, before me, in all its glory lay my
As though I could consume it, I drew a breath
to the tips of my toes. Home. Home, alas.
Warmth wrapped my body and my eyes were wide
alert. My lips smiled and it was wonderful.
It is all that I remember it would be. It
is all the same. The trail holds its darkness.
Its secrets. Guarded well by the resting alligator
drawn in form by the tops of the trees. Trees
who hang their leaves like hands, waiting
to help me in. Sweet aromas of grass and narcissus
linger through the yard. And lilacs. The clay
and sand upon my hill look of moisture from
last night's rain. Fresh for the day. I can
hear fluttering wings, birds making nests,
grasshoppers stroking their violin legs in
the weeds nearby. And my heart.
To my north lay the superior lake, beautiful
rippled hues of blues cut only by small white
tails and the island. It welcomes me. And
to the west the water speaks in gentle swirls,
meandering through the yard to the bend.
I can see it all. Again, I inhale its beauty,
lingering the outward breath, keeping the
beauty within. With the full exit of air,
in the instant of a thought, I recoil it all
ablaze with coppers. Oranges. Red. Yellows
fill the trees. The air is autumn. Brisk.
Musk. and I know, I know with this that this
is all fantasy.
My body, it rides in a car on the endless
road to nowhere. Here my soul has taken leave,
if only for a few moments, seconds, and before
it lay my land.
Reality tugs. I resist. Stand firm your feet,
my girl. Don't let go. Never let go.
At my wish, the trees toss their leaves away
and snowflakes fill the sky. Fluffy. Cold.
They melt upon my nose. Sunshine, yes me,
I know this is my hand at work and I see winters'
glitters across the spans of snow and the
twinkles of the heavens sparkle beneath my
feet. And there, hitting upon the bank, is
my daddy's little yellow plow. It coils snow
beneath its force and builds banks around
the yard. But time is of the essence and reality
is not patient.
Sunshine change the season.
Sunshine let it be spring.
Flowers emerge from the mildewed ground and
trees push buds to catch the golden rays.
Birds sing. Frogs reply. And once again, life's
reborn. The wind blows its might force and
clouds move in as rapid as the train. And
as loud as its roar, thunder commands to the
earth sheets of raindrops here and there.
Then Sunshine sleeps again.
In the falling darkness, my soul has seen
it all. The seasons of my land, the times
I yearned and the times I know so very well.
As lightning stirs the deadened night, as
my mother's words echo in distant thought,
my body snatches me back. And there I am,
driving the endless road.
Faster and faster, only a mile to go. Anticipation
thrusts me forward and finally it is here.
I pull the car to a halt before the land I
used to know, before the land my soul has
visited, before all. Looking to the skyline,
the alligator has gone. The darkness of the
trail has given way to total blackness and
trees that once stood with covered trunk now
stand with barren bark. I escape the distortion
from the confines of my car and stand on the
sands of the drive. Eyes flash upon the hill
and it is gone. Consumed by trees-gone. It
is all gone. Nothing stayed the same. No longer
will sunlight fall upon the ground beneath
my feet as I watch my Lee uncovered history
beneath the broken bottles of blue. No longer
can I stand atop my rock and see the world,
above the saplings, above the baby spruce.
Grass once cured, once pruned, once sweet
with clover. It lay now dead beneath my knees.
I weep into my hands. For this is where I
knew my strength would be, my heart's longing,
my soul's desperate desire. How could my land
have deceived me How could it have left and
never bid me a farewell. How could it have
changed its face. How could it all have died.
In the sorrow of my tears, I hear my illucid
self. I see the woman, her name is "reality."
She stands bold upon my rock, her hand stretch
for me to reach. A glow upon her head. I hear
her call my name.
Before I had repulsed her tone. Resisted
her pull. Denied her existence. Now was different.
Now I wanted to leave this terrible place.
I awoke to find myself in bed, drapes amid
the air. And a dissident silence. This all
had been but a set of dreams, one atop another.
Here I was, within my bed. Moments passed
and conscious minds melted together once again.
In thought, I recollected the journey of my
dreams. The way I smelled the ruins of trees,
saw the sun and felt its warmth. I had been
to the mountain tops, trampled grass in the
valley below. I had seen the road's endless
miles and heard the bids come alive. I had
frolicked at the pond's edge and touched flowers
within my yard. I had drifted upon snow covered
banks and saw glitters beneath my feet.
And I had not.
While mind and body had lain at rest, my soul
had journeyed far. Soaring through the years
of time, it sought for me my courage, it sought
my heart. It found it in my memories, my past,
my mist. It found for me the strength I needed.
I found it in the land and it brought it
back to me.
Oh primitive quandary facing
who sought with the foolish will,
All that you had loved so much
that which ownership's not still.
For all the dreams you came to know
brought but tears into your hands,
And you found them here within your heart
amidst memories of these lands.
On Gitchee Gummee - It was a good day
Endless Road To The Remembered Land
Bed Of Life, Unknown Author
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