“A
2nd Rate Heaven?”
10/25/12
(When
a savaging of pain, weariness, and overuse of medication would make even a
brief, but fitful dream a bizarre, and twisted metaphor)
A
note to all my wonderful readers:
While
I realize that the description of persons, places, and events, along with any subsequent
allusions to any apparent, ‘religiosity’, may—in fact—be counter to one’s
particular ideations, affiliations, or beliefs, and—therefore--found to be offensive;
in my defense:
1)
It has never been my intention to cause
offense, or to—in fact—try to change one’s core values.
2)
The following exposition, and, ‘title’,
were the result of a dream I had had, and as such...the contents, and any
implied suppositions, and/or conclusions to be made are completely beyond my control;
and do not necessarily reflect my own judgment or value system.
Thank
you
To
my very, very dear kind friends, and faithfully loyal readers,
This morning I discovered that I had—once
again—fallen asleep out at the kitchen counter.
Both Daisy and I seemed to be locked into a
repetitive cycle, where she kept wanting to go, ‘out’, to pee…or…to, ‘catch her
breath; my subsequent 40-90 minute sleep cycles naturally involved my rousing
to let her go out, then to settles down—having a couple of cigarettes while I
waited, and then—once she was in—I found myself too drowsy to do anything more
than to put my head into my arms and drift off.
This was repeated over and over again; for some
heretofore not observed reason, Daisy would go out the patio doors, come back
in about five feet, and then go out again.
Although relatively unwise to do so, I finally
drifted off to sleep leaving the front door unlocked, and the patio doors open
about eighteen inches.
I do not, ‘sleep’, for very long, but—when I do doze
off, I sleep deeply, quite unaware of anything around me.
I have done this a number of times before; and in
this neighborhood, leaving the front door unlocked and wide open, with the
lights on in the house is the surest path to folly, robbery, and,
‘who-knows-what-else?’.
I know I fall asleep deeply-enough to enter the,
‘dream state’, and as I wake up so often, I always remember my dreams.
And should these dreams
prove disturbing, or unsettling, a subsequent, ‘after mood’, can often affect
me all day.
“A 2nd. Rate Heaven?”
I opened my eyes to find myself in a fair-sized
waiting room; it had two, opposing doors, but no windows.
It was very crowed inside, with single persons, and
couples (of all ages) milling around constantly with no apparent purpose. There were no chairs or benches, and people
were sitting-about on the floor, looking at others constantly in motion.
Suddenly, I was aware that my late mother was with
me. It was difficult to stay together
with all those people jostling around.
Somehow, it dawned on me that there were countless, other waiting rooms
such as the one my mother and I were in.
There seemed to be a particular gathering of people
at one side of the room, and I made my way through the crowd to try to find out
just what was going on.
It seems that everyone was being given a clipboard
on which there was an obvious, lengthy kind of test, or examination; one that
everyone HAD to complete, and turn in.
In addition to the usual requests for name, age,
marital status, income, telephone number, and place of residence, there were
oddly worded questions about one’s life, one’s goals, one’s hopes, one’s
dreams, and accomplishments.
There were questions that related to beliefs, and to
important, ‘life events’. And small
essays dealing with character, talents, interactions with others, and…since it
was as a typical test, there were a few mathematic problems to be solved.
And while there was no implied, ‘time limit’, in
completing the test, there was an air of extreme urgency among the crowd, to
submit the finished test as soon as possible.
Somehow, my mother was either exempt from the test,
or else had long-since completed it, for she—too—wandered-about expectantly,
but with no apparent sense of urgency.
Once completed, the tests were pushed through one of
a number of slots on the walls.
I due course, each person’s test had been graded,
and returned to them; the standard grading of, ’90-100, 80-90, 70-80, 60-70’,
and so on, was written at the top right corner of the test in red pencil, and
circled.
At the end of the waiting room, there was another
slot into which the now graded tests were pushed, and, from a set of large
bookcase, there opened a door I had not previously seen.
Those with sufficiently high test scores were
allowed entrance into what looked to be an endless hallway; those whose test
scores were considered too low were—instead—shown to a—now—exit door, leading
to something outside.
Briefly, my mother and I were separated in that
milling crowd, though I could see her stepping through the door of,
‘acceptance’, into that endless hall. I
chased after her as quickly as I could to be with her, and pushed my way past
people lining up, try to find my mother again.
Imagine—if you will, my very dearest friends—a
building kind of like a mall, but one, one hundred thousand (or more!) times
larger than any you might ever see, and with multiple levels, elevators,
escalators leading to a ceiling one could not see for clouds.
In it were countless stores, food courts, and rest
areas, with entertainment. There were
salons and make-up studios, to make one beautiful; clothing stores—without
seeming end—from which to choose one’s preferred attire.
There were food courts that appealed to every kind
of taste imaginable. And places to rest,
to contemplate, before moving on.
Here, there was no sense of urgency, only one of
delight.
I lost sight of my dear mother as she entered a
particular salon, and was—in fact—dragged-back through the entrance to find
myself propelled through the exit door, and to the outside.
There…I—and countless others—slowly made out way on
an endless gritty, rocky beach, beside a
vast and utterly motionless sea, gray/green in color, under an equally gray and
oppressive, empty sky. Occasional fits
of sullen breeze wafted to us the smell of decaying seaweed.
The sun—above—was but a faint and distant smudge
amid the grayness of infinitely-high, and overcast clouds.
There was no feeling of temperature, only of endless
desolation, and loneliness.
We finally approached a vast, and uncompleted ruin
of what might once have been an elaborate resort.
Once inside, I walked, and walked and walked down
seemingly unending halls of rooms that had no facing wall, and no door…clearly
revealing the occupants inside.
There were sensations of pain and despair, yes…and
an overall sense of hopelessness, shame and suffering.
For—no matter what the person’s original
illness(es), or disease, or injury was, it was changed—somehow—in order to be
seen displayed on the outside of the body.
There were those, for example, could be readily seen
greatly enlarged, and diseased organs; on the front of some of their bodies
could be seen masses of intestines, exposed and enlarged brains.
Some were missing arms and legs, while others had
arms and legs too many. Some had two or three extra sets of teeth, or grossly
enlarged ears, or noses. Some—I guessed
by way of personality—were made monstrous by the addition of horns, hooves,
tails.
None of the rooms were furnished. Instead, individuals, friends, couples, or
families were huddled-together on stained mattresses, covered by dirty sheets;
they were in constant motion, trying to find more comfortable positions.
Oddly, not once was I appalled by these sights, nor
did I feel any sense of danger, anger, or outrage. If anything, I felt a feeling of reluctant
acceptance, even—cooperation—as groups tried to make room on the mattresses for
new arrivals.
For a brief while I, ‘rested’, with a young couple
who not only tried to make room for me, but to offer enough sheet to be
covered.
The young man looked as though his intestines—having
become five times their normal size—had burst-through the front and side of his
abdomen. His young wife was as equally
affected, though I cannot now recall how.
All I do know is that they were unhappy, miserable,
but willing to share their space with me as they were able.
In time, I grew hungry, and found my way to an
enormous cafeteria, whose various serving lines stretched almost out of
sight. And all were filled by people
standing there, waiting to be served. I
picked up a tray, and found a place in line.
Before me, I saw all manner of delicious food, whose
appearance, and aroma made my mouth water.
I could not reach any of it, though.
Further and further down the serving line was
displayed the finest foods and beverages in all the world. Yet, no one would serve it to me.
On my plate—instead—was placed bits of dry, stale,
insect-eaten and moldy crackers and bread.
The only thing available to drink was bitter, brackish, contaminant-filled
water. I gagged as I tried to swallow
it, and found myself crying, frustrated, and feeling unutterably lost.
I was—at last—truly, truly alone; I had no mother or
father to console me. No friends to
comfort me. No former co-workers to
speak with. Not even the briefest of
kind acquaintances could I find to help me.
And while there always was a sense of passing time,
time—itself—had ceased to mean anything.
This, I believed—must be what the conception of, ‘eternity’, is like.
Just before I most gratefully awoke, I had a sudden,
puzzling thought: there was no appreciable torment by demons, nor was there
endless fire. Certainly none of the
screaming, etc., one might associate with, “Hell”.
So…where
was I?
Stuck in amber, forever
in a place that was neither, “Heaven”, or, “Hell”. It was—to me—sort of like some mid-point
reality; someplace where they truly, truly evil did not go, but again, neither
was it, “Heaven”, certainly not in any of the ways I had always thought of,
believed in, or hoped for or even, ‘wished’, “Heaven”, to be.
However, my most dear, dear friends, and constant,
loyal readers, it was a dream, just that and nothing more. Something conjured up from the Unconscious,
as may be affected by fatigue, illness, pain, depression, or sense of loss.
As such, though, I would think that my unconscious
brain would—instead—concoct a dream more pleasant, more endurable, more
evanescently, ‘happy’, in order to help cope with the rigors of daily living.
And…I must admit that I
do—from time to time—have much more pleasant, even entertaining dreams.
My questions, then, to you my dear friends are:
1)
What do YOU think about the dream?
2)
Have you—in the past, or presently—have dreams
like that?
3)
If so…what do you think they represent,
or mean?
4)
Do you think there is a purpose for such
dreams?
5)
Or a purpose?
6)
What—if
anything—do you think we should know, and/or learn from these kinds of dreams?
7)
Or, of, ‘dreams’, in general?
8)
Do your dreams affect—in any way—the way
you act, behave, or, ‘feel’, upon awakening?
9)
If so, do the, ‘affects’, of your dreams
last part or all of the day?
10) What do you try to do—if anything—to try to
have more, ‘good’, dreams, than, ‘bad’? Do you ever, ‘journal’, or, write them
down?
11) And finally, how often do you experience, ‘bad
dreams’, expressed as a percentage of all remembered dreams that you may have?
I have tried to relate
to you the both the substance and nature of a most unsettling dream I had only
last night; I have tried to be as accurate—factually—and as truthful as I could
possibly be regarding subjective, concurrent emotive states.
I am most interested to hear your experiences, and
your opinions, and any conclusions you may have.
Once again, I thank you so very much for your kind
and caring friendship, and for reading my diary entries, and making comment to
them, as I value greatly your opinions.
Please know, my very, very dearest friends that I
think of you so very often, and want you to be safe, secure, in, ‘no pain’, or
as lessened pain as is possible, and…happy, and well-loved!
And
please always know that I love you dearly!
‘Zahc’/Charles
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