Late last night I awoke from a
dream that, in my not fully conscious state, felt philosophically and
theologically significant. It seemed important, and worth remembering. Not
trusting my awakened mind to remember what my sleeping mind had created, I slipped
out from beneath the covers and, in the darkness, found a scrap of paper and a
pencil to record something of the dream before it dissipated back into the
ethereal void from which it came. Then, having written a brief note to remind
myself of the dream, I went back to bed and slept till morning.
But now, even with the note in front of me, I can remember only a fraction of the dream, and what I can recall does not seem to be the weightiest, profoundest portion of the vision.
What I can remember is of flying to Mongolia to look at horses. I remember there being a moment of instantaneous and tremendous fear as the airplane disappeared around me, along with the other passengers and crew, and I was left hurtling through the air above the mountains and rivers unprotected in the shrieking wind. Then I was in the airport with people staring at me, clucking their tongues and wagging their heads in disapproval; apparently I had urinated in my fear of flying through the air alone and unprotected. My pants were wet and stained. I rushed for a restroom to hide.
The note I left for myself is unhelpful in interpreting this dream or the significance it seemed to have. My handwriting is, even under the best circumstances, both crimped and unruly, my slumbering handwriting is even worse. After a moment of difficulty I was able to decipher my runic scrawl:
“no predestination
threshold of experience”
There was something, I think, in the dream of free will and disappearing choices and options, but it has all evaporated with the dawn.
But now, even with the note in front of me, I can remember only a fraction of the dream, and what I can recall does not seem to be the weightiest, profoundest portion of the vision.
What I can remember is of flying to Mongolia to look at horses. I remember there being a moment of instantaneous and tremendous fear as the airplane disappeared around me, along with the other passengers and crew, and I was left hurtling through the air above the mountains and rivers unprotected in the shrieking wind. Then I was in the airport with people staring at me, clucking their tongues and wagging their heads in disapproval; apparently I had urinated in my fear of flying through the air alone and unprotected. My pants were wet and stained. I rushed for a restroom to hide.
The note I left for myself is unhelpful in interpreting this dream or the significance it seemed to have. My handwriting is, even under the best circumstances, both crimped and unruly, my slumbering handwriting is even worse. After a moment of difficulty I was able to decipher my runic scrawl:
threshold of experience”
There was something, I think, in the dream of free will and disappearing choices and options, but it has all evaporated with the dawn.
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