Dream, dreamer, dreamed.



Let’s pretend we’re dreaming.

We’re dreaming the Universe alive.

Before we dreamed, nothing exists.

Awareness creates the stage and all its players:

Dream, dreamer, dreamed.

Every thought, every word, every feeling

creates another dent in the dream net,

another spiderweb of connection.

Every argument you’ve ever chewed with yourself

creates an external war.

Every bird you’ve ever blessed

creates birdsong so sweet in your Garden of Eden

and Every mosquito you’ve slapped

kills another within or without.

It’s your world, Dreamer, your call,

your decision, your maker, your made.

You won’t be able to gauge it or control it from

within the dream though

you may seem to make headway with fits & bursts of

logical decision making directed toward one character,

the me, your main star, the heroine behind your sleeping eyelids.

You may seem to be the one running the show, or you

might label the Dreamer as God, or

you’re an atheist of nightmares

or you might wake up, you never know,

you never truly know.


When you’re born (so some say) you create

a master rule book filled with shoulds and shouldnts,

yes and no.

Every dream character carefully pens her strategy to be

the most unique me, the shining me, the me who Knows.

No one follows the same rulebook!

(How can we truly know another character in our dream

when so many different rules and suggestions inform what

shall be thought, done, said next?  And would we want to change

another to reflect our unique beliefs, when these dream-creations

arise in response to what’s not-yet-seen, not-yet-embraced?)


What if every single instant you refused to allow your neighbor’s rulebook,

his existence, another character springs to life imbued with double punch,

to, praise punch, invite us to see?


What if you can never know my rulebook, no matter how much I share?

What if I can never know your rulebook, no matter how much you try to communicate?

What if some drop the rulebook in a lazy southern river and swim away forever?

Who’s left?

Who remains when the dreamed dissolve?

Where travels the dream then, my dreamer?


Let’s pretend we’re dreaming the world into existence right now,

this very instant, and yet the holy ghost of the dreamer only beckons.

It’s here, but our eyes lock on the body, the thought, the Other.

Let’s pretend we’re only the dreamed, riding the horse of this planet until Tuscon

and not one trot beyond.

We’ve created it all, even the sweating rider, the one with aches and pains.

When she falls off the appaloosa into desert sands, will the Trinity finally resurrect?

Dream, dreamer, dreamed.

One moment before truth dawns.

No horse.

No rider.

No dream.

No dreamer.

No dreamed.

Only This.

The mountains won’t stop laughing.

The dream winks:  Wasn’t it fun?

Let’s play again.

It’s your turn.  What say you now, you player of games,

you make-believe dreamer,

you dream, dreamer, dreamed?


4 thoughts on “Dream, dreamer, dreamed.

  1. This reminds me so much of the Lucid Dreaming course we did last year… we tried to ‘wake up’ within our dream, to become aware of the fact that we were dreaming while we were dreaming. It wasn’t as easy as we thought… Love this.

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