i had a dream last night…

Or was it more of a dream folded into a dream?

As I began to waken, the sound I had grown familiar with had changed, or rather the lack of sound.  A blanketing fog of smoke and pollution had become the norm; the deep pollution included a visible form of malevolence, anguish, and anxiety.  Yet as I grew more aware in the waking world, I could hear birds singing, their silence cast aside as they greeted the new day in earnest.  And well they might!  Making haste to the exterior door of the bedroom, I beheld the world around me had been reborn.  Sometime in the early night it must have rained, and as the sun rose over the mountains in the east, it brought myriad sparkles to the hoarfrost that formed as it turned colder.  What bright and welcome magic was this?

Oh, look!  The rutting bucks were back, prancing after their chosen mates, the foxes scampering near the compost pile, alternately choosing bits and pieces of delectable discards from my cutting board.  They laughed as they gamboled about in play and mock battles, their plump tails swishing with abandon.

Soon I found myself among the people in our town, and they laughed with delight at my questions about the changes.  “How long did you sleep, Miz Van Winkle?” they teased.  “The revolution of higher consciousness* foretold by the Turtle Island Indigenous must have swept around the planet while you lazed abed, with a veil of quilts over your head!”

Then they told me what changes had been wrought, although most of their tales concerned the US, rather understandably, gabbling in unfeigned glee…

We’d all awoken to the truth that we are not only all brothers and sisters in spirit, but that we truly are each other’s keepers, and that if you are suffering, so are we.  So revelatory it was to discover that humans were meant to cooperate, not compete, in order for all of us to survive and prosper, and that living with enough was preferable to living with A Lot.  We began to honor the big blue-green ball we live upon, and live more lightly upon her, realizing that her gifts were just that, and that we would use them as carefully and sparingly as we could.

Ah, one of the most glorious results of the collective higher consciousness was that people dared, some for the first time ever, to inquire inside themselves to see who they might be deep in their souls.  As we became more honest with ourselves, and chose to treat others as we wished we’d be treated, and to be honest with our brethren, trust became endemic; attorneys became anomalies, as handshakes sealed deals.

Our innate empathetic intuition had been restored and heightened, and once again we could feel our fellow human’s needs and pain, and act accordingly.  It was possible now to see into the past, and sense the pain we had caused others, even accidentally, so that we began to ask for forgiveness in humility, and grant it, both of which conferred sparkling molecules of blessings; they became almost visible light.  Their radiance grew and spread from horizon to horizon; even the night sky stars, planets, and Milky Way shone more brightly in harmony, and a subtle music could be heard on high by ears turned expectantly toward it.  Forgiving ourselves became important, as well, and we encouraged each other in that art; unresolved regrets were fading as we made amends as we could, and when impossible, did so in our hearts.

Our nation was in the process of becoming true and horizontal democracy, abjuring the false choices brought to us by billions of dollars; elections would be publicly financed, and a Constitutional Convention had been called for the following year.  Most of the uber-wealthy had voluntarily surrendered their assets, and massive infrastructure projects were underway: public transportation, schools resembling palaces in which children would be honored, and encouraged to explore what they yearned to study, and how to imagine, and to think critically.  They would no longer be controlled by authoritarian poisonous pedagogy.

Free healthy food distribution centers had been created, to hold people for the time being, as were free clinics, and more; workers were paid a living wage.  Parks were being built in all the big squares in every city, and were crowded with people meeting, talking, painting, doing exercises, playing, and making music.

The provisional government had already guaranteed us the Four Freedoms that FDR had long ago said should be inviolable: the freedom of speech and expression everywhere in the world; the freedom of every person to worship God in his own way – everywhere in the world; freedom from want, which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants; and the freedom from Fear, including a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor – anywhere in the world.

We destroyed everything that had ever been genetically modified, and we dug out our troves of heirloom seeds, and shared them generously.  We learned, or relearned, the old ways of sustainable agriculture, and our crops began to thrive in healthy bounty, as we tilled the land in pleasure, and felt blessed to be able to bend over and pick up the food we grew from the ground.

The factory farms were divided to anyone interested in the modern version of ‘forty acres and a mule’ cooperatives; windbreaks and small glens of trees and shrubs were planted across the land, in order to hold the soil, permeate the air with new oxygen, shade, and beauty, the scents of the plants offering visions of what we could create by Walking In Beauty.

Ah, we honored the Four Directions and the Four Races in our hearts, Red Yellow Dark and White, and laughed at how we were once so divided and saw the Other as outside, separate from ourselves!  Religions and churches repented mightily for their dark histories of war and mayhem, all in the name of competing gods and superior, insular  ideologies; churches divested themselves of their global trillions of dollars of possessions and holdings, and contributed the money to the Common Weal.

The Big Banks on Wall Street and elsewhere were broken up and nationalized, run as utilities, as were the power and water companies.  And yes, a lot of their holdings had to be seized, but those found guilty of crimes will at least get their chances to redeem themselves.

The convicted war criminals among us, like the fraudsters and banksters who’d stolen our futures, would live in jail cells with continual loops of film showing them the results of the humans who’ve lives they’d taken or rendered insupportable by cruel and needless suffering in the name of Empire and/or Obscene Profit.  There would be Truth and Reconciliation hearings at some point, and they would be able to be treated for the underlying causes of their propensity for evil, if it were warranted.  I couldn’t possibly predict if they can or will be able to show that they should eventually be allowed to walk among their fellow humans again or not.

The thousands of US military bases around the world were shuttered as the Imperium was wound down; soldiers were given the same monthly stipend the rest of us were, that we might have enough to live on until we found other jobs or endeavors to make some money.  The State Security agencies were closed, privacy was restored to all citizens, and feeling the yoke of coercion removed, we began to feel free, with all the awareness of personal responsibility that state implies.

Police were advises that their duty was to keep the peace, and that violators would be prosecuted.  No more would they kill blacks/browns/dissidents/the poor with impunity; political prisoners were freed after brief case reviews by enlightened judges of the Civil Rights kind.

And what had happened to the fog of pollution?  It was said that it had begun to whirl, and as it did, it lifted off the land, and whirled ever higher…until, like a kid’s pinwheel coming unstuck from its stick, one point of the wheel pulled itself into the sky…and the rest followed, and disappeared, forever neutralized by collective intentional and directed thought.

I had a dream last night; what a lovely dream it was…

We learned to love each other, or at the very least, respect each other, and that our separations are largely illusions.  We are all made of stardust, and those who commit evil deeds may be sick, and need healing, as the traditional Diné believe.

Listen to the heartbeats of the hand drums, the chk-chk of gourd rattles, and the whispers of the Ancestors.  Live well, live with justice, and honor the Earth!  Live the Light when you can!

* (There were a few tall-tale raconteurs who’d claimed that the new consciousness was really down to the visit of Spaceships from other worlds, other dimensions…providing  some big ol’ reality checks to our arrogant Exceptionalist beliefs, but I for one don’t believe them.)

  (cross-posted at My.fdl.com)

19 responses to “i had a dream last night…

  1. I never believed it when even Sebastian said, “For a coupla weeks in the summer of 1967, it was perfect … ” and not since. And so,

  2. ;) my fave was ‘younger girl’ cuz i was always a year and a half younger than my classmates the way it worked out. well, and ‘rain on the roof’. i saw them a ksu with moby grape, whose (perhaps) on hit wonder is one of my most favorite songs from the era that no one even remembers:

  3. Ah, The Mōb; perhaps more apropos your lovely, hopeful dream:

    And the younger girl; without one, what would a younger Boy DO?

  4. sincerely apropos; thank you for it. i even googled the lyrics to follow along the second time through. ‘from dawn to dawn can be a lifetime’ resonates, oh my.

    they were known as a three-guitar band, but i must say that i liked the earnestness with which they fashioned harmonies. the mixes were often wanting, but their hearts? o, no!

    but other than the tunes, missuz bruce; how did you enjoy the play? ;)

  5. moby grape, I had the album and remember. remembering being the more important concept to me these days.
    Though not in the archives yet, you might enjoy tonight’s Charlie Rose, interviewing Mandy Patinkin . Dreaming, living and philosophy of carrying on with what matters to us as individuals. I have not yet watched a single episode of, “Homeland,” MP’s latest TV gig. Dreaming my own life here quite a bit of the time.


  6. ‘remembering being more important’, lol. whoa, lat time i ever watched charlie rose, he went off the rails with cruel jibes to the person he was interviewing, and interrupted the answers to his questions. wish i remembered who it was, because it was someone i admired. i’ve seen just enough network teevee to get that there are a host of new security apparatus programs, and that’s no accident, is it? brrrrr.

    mr. wd particularly loves john sebastian’s lines ‘why did everybody laugh when i told them my dream? i guess they all were so far from that kind of scene…feelin’ mean.’

    yes, we’ll dream a new world, and take breaks from the daily witnessing of so many hideous stories besides, and find enchantment as we can.

  7. A band I was in used to do 8:05. another did “hey grandma” I think one of the guys still performs regularly as a solo.

    beautiful dream you had. Thanks for that.

  8. *Universal desiderata, indeed.

  9. Morning Wendy,

    Patinkin described himself as a Jewish Buddhist and the discussion was dreaming, personal motivation and individual views of reality, sort of esoteric. One sentence, “Humans are the only species that does not “rest,” while awake.” Rose was listening more than speaking.

    I agree with you mostly on Rose and his show and I don’t follow it. I woke from dreaming in my chair as I had fallen asleep after meal prep and evening kitchen chores and turning on the BBC news. I get PBS, the one channel that comes with the no pay for viewing plan. ;^)

  10. i’m heartened to hear that some you knew 8:05, *and* moby grape; so rare. and too cool that your band played it, mafr. always wanted a crack at those harmonies. ;)

    glad you liked the dream, but it was more by way of a waking dream this time. something prodded me to go dig up the song, then i played it many times, and went into deep reverie over several listens. it was a needed activity, and i reckon you all know what that’s about. it’s too easy to fall into the abyss for me at times, and some of the reading i’ve been doing threatened that, at least on a minor scale.

    nonquixote: i didn’t grasp that mandy was speaking of dreaming, so i’ll try to listen soon; here’s one link to the interview. ‘the moral side of the homeland security apparatus’? (or whatever rose said). reminds me of the opera bigchin just performed in his role as ‘the nazi with a conscience’, lol.

    dunno if it’s right to do or not, but i just read a long piece at OWS by steve horn and carl gibson reporting on some of the new wikileaked stratfor files, and that otpor’s Srdja Popovic was feeding stratfor info. (serbs v. slobadon) they linked to rebuttal by wagingnonviolence.org (com?) making somewhat light of it. but i may just paste in both articles rather than cull quotes and clips; i’d guess both pieces would be creative commons, or should be, anyoo.

    also, i’ve spent some time over the past few days watching as the twitter and article wars have heated up over the yasha leving/mark ames piece you kindly linked to, mark/mafr. the discussion by now is sincerely un-nuanced (is that a word?), and people are choosing up sides, more’s the pity. my original uneasiness issues have kinda been lost in the shuffle over glenn’s profiting on the snowden documents. you’d mentioned that earlier, and i hadn’t seen much criticism of that, but either he or his supporters certainly have.

    the discussion at naked capitalism (same piece dan pruning shears brought to my. fdl) was quite good, and aside from tarzie, a lot of the discussion was about the economics of the model, and of course how omiyar’s ‘neoliberalism’ affected his micro-loan ‘philanthropy’. i’ve been having discussions about it all with a new e-friend, and finding some agreement with him, but certainly not altogether. what a bloody sticky wicket it all seems to be. and i’ve read until my eyes are crossed.

    i could just create a Links post with some of it, or all of it, if any one you want to dig into it.

    anyhoo, i’m back to info overload, i guess.and mine eyes are burning and scratchy, eep. love to you all.

  11. Planted rows went turning past like giant spokes one by one as they ranged the roads. The skies were interrupted by dark grey storm clouds with a flow like molten stone, swept and liquid, and light that found its way through them was lost in the dark fields, but gathered shining along the pale road, so that sometimes all you could see was the road, and the horizon it ran to.
    Sometimes she was overwhelmed by the green life passing in such high turbulence, too much to see, all clamouring to have its own way.

    your style reminds me of Pynchon

  12. o, mafr. but feel the motion, the stops of the movement…the rich contrasts. he allows you, no seduces you to follow the journey that he sees. and o, that last sentence made me tear with its insistence, its own ‘turbulence’. now that’s a rare talent, my words don’t come close, but i am so glad that they can even be a shadow of his portrayals for you, kind man. and that song always makes me weep with it. ‘my back pages’ does as well, but only their version. no matter that i have no idea what the poetry signifies. ;)

  13. I just learned the other day that he has a genius iq. way up 180 something. I used to be amazed at the amount of research that went into his writing, now I think, he just knows that much.

  14. and remembers what he learned, in all likelihood. i’ve learned over the past decade how much intelligence relies on memory, and even in weaving thoughts and ideas into a coherent whole.

    an author i read once advised new writers to read their writing aloud, a very good piece of advice that i’ve never taken. but pynchon’s cadences, melodies, and changing tempos and directions make me wonder if he does. or maybe he just hears them as he writes and reads what he’s written. either way… i haven’t read him since ‘vineland’, but i think i struggled over ‘gravity’s rainbow’, maybe the time and place i tried to read it? dunno, really. but a genius in any sense of the word.

  15. yes I see what you mean

  16. i almost see what i mean. ;)

  17. I think I have your dream wakefully, wendye, if that’s at all possible. I was on the Guardian site for live updates on their high tide flooding and storm surges uprivers, and a corollary dream came to me that we ought simply to be smaller. The ptb have said to heck with the Constitution anyway, so my dream is we have a confederation not of states, chuck all the statehouses and gerrymander our own provinces on an even scale – no more state lines – according to weather strategies. Smaller is better.

    See, there in merrie Englande they still get horrified by two storm related deaths and elderly ladies in Wales with lacecurtained windows can be given assistance by cheery blokes in inflatable dinghies – how warmth-producing is that? Same will be true of my wee islands homeland.

    Skyscrapers ain’t gonna cut it no more, people. Spread yourselves out across the hinterland and break up those conglomerates into small organic farmsteads growing stuff. No more train conductors falling asleep at the wheel as you commute into glitzecity – no more glitzecity!

    That’s my dream and I’m living it!

    Love to you all.

  18. i like it, juliania, and sure it’s possible to dream a dream in reverie. i have a revolution video somewhere in my out-of-control Inbox that postulates that (in effect, iirc) that city-states with certain affinities may be just the ticket post-non-violent revolution. yes, the cheery blokes in rubber dinghies rescuing elders is very heartening. your vision will require public transportation, but hey; let’s dream big! love to you, too, darlin’. serendipity: this just came on my realplayer as i clacked keys:

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