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 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.
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?