See more articles, reviews, fiction and poetry, including more of my writings, at group blog PLUTO'S REALM.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Another Dream

Although it may seem to some to be contrary to my Zen practice, I continue to become convinced that occasionally -- usually when after having had some disruption in my brain chemistry or sleep patterns -- I have dreams which are more than dreams. These dreams feel astonishingly real, just as real as the world I normally live in, sometimes more so. They are sometimes lucid dreams (I am quite aware that I am dreaming). I have, in very open moments of thought between these dreams and my resumption of my normal conciousness, had the perception that the dream state is in fact the integration of many minds, of why my normal rational consciousness is only one. One of these occurred maybe an hour ago.

At a certain very critical point of my life in Albuquerque, just after my Nichiren period ended but before things went to hell there, I had a brief affair with my court reporter. Her name was Pam; I won't use her last name because someone might Google and find her here, and our affair was illicit in that she was in the process of a divorce and was on her way to join her new boyfriend in Colorado. I was just a safe diversion for her I guess, but I fell madly in love with her, probably the last time I ever did that. We would both have been about 33 or 34 at the time. That was at the time when I was probably peaking out financially; I had my home and my motorcycle and my neighborhood bar, all elements that proved problematic later. Pam and I went out for a while but she remained true to her intended new husband. I helped her with her divorce in exchange for some free depositions. Then away she went; I've had sporadic fond memories of her, though I hadn't thought of her in quite a while. She was the epitome of the girl I'd wanted from high school on, but never quite had. I never quite had Pam either, I guess.

Until last night, when Pam and I met in the dream world. We met upstairs at some bar or private club, where it seems we've been meeting intermittently in this alternative reality. She seemed to know the proprieters quite well; they teased her that she was hung over from the night before. She asked, I wasn't drinking, was I? and I said just this, and ordered a double Scotch and soda, which came in a huge brandy snifer. We stayed there for a while, and we did what we did, and then it was over. But I could tell we'd been there before and would again, in this other world.

So I got into my search engines this morning when I got my coffee, and found her immediately; apparently she stayed in Colorado, and hopefully things went well for her. Her two children, who were tiny when I knew her, have gone to college and had restaurant jobs, and her daughter had a wild cougar break into her housing on campus. The daughter looks so much like Pam did, twenty-six or so years ago, that it's heartbreaking. All this through the magic of the internet.

So I won't bother Pam, in this world, but I look forward to seeing her again in that other one. And you can't tell me it's not real. Why would you want to?

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