In my dream, I hasten to add. No need to call 911. All the killing last night took place in my own mind for reasons unknown, like so much else that transpires in my psyche.
Usually I'm not big on trying to interpret dreams. Mostly they seem to be my mind's attempt to connect fragments of the previous day's disconnected experiences.
Maybe this explains my dream. Maybe not. Regardless, the peak emotional moment is still vivid.
"Nobody is going to come!" After repeatedly calling out for help to people I could see around me, I finally realized that if the man who was trying to kill me was going to be stopped, I was going to have to do it.
With that realization, my panic abated. And my ferocity fired up.
My attacker had been relentless. He wasn't armed. I had a gun, but it wouldn't fire. The trigger mechanism was devilishly hard to pull. It kept freezing up just before a shot should have been fired.
Deeply frustrating. Revolver interruptus. The fight turned to close-in combat.
Which is when I was able to pound the guy into his death throes. Conveniently, a pile of stones was within reach. I was on top of him as we struggled on the ground. I picked up a good-sized rock.
And smashed it into his throat. Repeatedly. It felt great. Blood started spurting. I got covered in it.
After he was dead I walked past the people who had ignored me. Probably because they weren't even aware of me. They didn't seem to notice a blood-soaked man with a rock in his hand slowly strolling by, out of breath.
"Nobody is going to come." The feeling stuck with me into this morning's meditation. It didn't make me feel lonely. More like resigned to reality.
Nobody has come after close to forty years of daily meditation. Nobody other than me, and sometimes even he didn't show up. So what are the chances that an outside rescuer is going to appear before the end of my life? Pretty darn slim.
I've done a lot of dialing and talking on my spiritual telephone over the years. Hello. Hello. Is anybody there? Can you hear me? Love to chat if you have a minute. Or, eternity.
When you don't get a response, how long are you going to keep holding the receiver up to your ear? At what point does it make more sense to pick up a rock and smash that plastic "Hello Kitty" toy into smithereens?
Because the fucking thing isn't connected to an outside line! Nor, anything. Other than my own mouth and ear, so far as I can tell.
Todd was one of my best high school friends. We kept in touch for a while after college. He moved to Oregon at one point. Took a few classes at Oregon State. Lived in an old house outside of Corvallis.
I remember going to visit him. Todd told a story about how he'd been trying to fix the oil heater in his basement. A line broke. Oil started spurting out.
Todd said that he remembered what his father used to tell him. Todd's family had a ranch in Three Rivers, California, where we grew up. They also raised hay down in the San Joaquin valley. Lots of stuff goes wrong on ranches and farms.
"Look around," was the advice. "Don't panic. You'll find that you have what you need to deal with the situation within reach. Just look."
Todd did that. He saw a rag. He wrapped it around the leaking pipe. Cinched it tight. Got breathing room for a real repair.
I thought of that story when I woke up this morning. Those rocks were right there next to me. All I had to do was pick one up. And smash away. Problem solved. The man deserved to die. It wasn't hard to accomplish.
All I needed to do was get past the turning point: "Nobody is going to come."
So the Gordian knot represents the old regime of academic discourse, and Alexander's sword represents the new culture of brute force as applied science.
Every year, the green man is carried through town and then beaten to death by the children, so the crops will be fertile.
But here's the Jungian kicker, right out of suttee: "Calling up a prayer that she may, in some future birth, be born the daughter of a father whom she could respect, Dākshāyani invoked her yogic powers and immolated herself."
Le roi est mort, long vivent le roi.
Posted by: Edward | May 31, 2007 at 05:31 PM
For a more traditional perspective, you can look at this whole dream from a Freudian angle -
1. " I had a gun, but it wouldn't fire."
2. "The trigger mechanism was devilishly hard to pull. It kept freezing up just before a shot should have been fired"
3. "Revolver interruptus."
4. I was on top of him as we struggled on the ground. I picked up a good-sized rock."
5. "Nobody is going to come."
6. "A line broke. Oil started spurting out."
7. "All I needed to do was get past the turning point:"
I'm not sure if this dream is about being a closet atheist, but then again, I'm not sure about a lot of things. However, I am pretty positive that you have ignored the fact that this past May 25th was the 30th anniversary of Star Wars. You remember that story don't you, Brian? Luke Skywalker vs. Darth Vader.
You don't need a rock, Brian, to kill that man, "Look around, don't panic. You'll find that you have what you need to deal with the situation within reach. Just look."
May the force be with you.
Posted by: Marcel Cairo | June 01, 2007 at 03:46 AM
Experience(s) --> interpretation(s). Wu.
Robert Paul Howard
Posted by: Robert Paul Howard | June 01, 2007 at 09:04 AM
I've had this recurring dream for years. Especially when I get lax on my meditation. I finally figured it out. When I am chased, being attacked, running away, seeing strangers coming after me, killing, mahem, all that you describe. It turns out that IT IS ME.
It is my own conscious coming after me. Trying to tell me not to give up and that I have been lax in meditation. When I get back on track the dreams stop.
In your case it may be your budding atheism that is bothering your conscious. Just like I tried to go back to eating meat.
I said, WTF, if this is not a reality, meaning RSSB, then why should I be a veg? Why should I NOT drink wine, etc? I tried it. It was a disaster paying the karmas back. I also stopped meditating for a while for same reason. That was not a disaster because my life did not change.
One thing remained the same, my karmas were precipitated just the same as they had been set in motion to precipitate. But THERE IS SOMEONE OUT THERE. I am telling you. Even if it is only your SELF.
Posted by: Heloise | June 02, 2007 at 03:44 PM
Here is a quote that I came across in response to your comments - "Nobody has come after close to forty years of daily meditation. Nobody other than me, and sometimes even he didn't show up. So what are the chances that an outside rescuer is going to appear before the end of my life? Pretty darn slim."
The quote -
"O my God, how does it happen in this poor old world that Thou art so great and yet nobody finds Thee, that Thou callest so loudly and nobody hears Thee, that thou art so near and nobody feels Thee, that Thou givest Thyself to everybody and nobody knows Thy name? Men flee from Thee and say they cannot see thee; they stop their ears and say they cannot hear Thee."
--Hans Denk, quoted in Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy
Posted by: Paul | June 05, 2007 at 11:42 AM
The answer to Denk is this:
Objective existence is a myth.
Non-objective existence is absolute.
God is not an object.
The eye can't see itself.
Not even One!! Because no 'one' can be found without making it two (subject and object). Nothing is everything.
Posted by: Tucson Bob | June 05, 2007 at 01:37 PM
From the Suzuki version of Shubun's "Ten Oxherding Pictures," here's the pentultimate panel:
"9. The Solitary Moon
Nowhere is the beast, and the oxherd is master of his time,
He is a solitary cloud wafting lightly along the mountain peaks;
Clapping his hands he sings joyfully in the moon-light,
But remember a last wall is still left barring his homeward walk."
Always they come here and bring with them their last wall. Beyond this post, under the moon, mu.
Posted by: Edward | June 06, 2007 at 06:58 AM