I was thinking about time, and how it doesn’t apply to dreams
And if you know me, then you know by now that at some point my thoughts will always turn toward God . . . in this instance, the inventor of time.
It’s awkward to think of life outside and apart from time, but to think about it, our dreams are like glimpses into this world.
I look at my dog who is growling and barking in his sleep, his whole body is moving… so even animals can dream, or maybe just dogs. One time his leg twitched, so maybe he was chasing a cat in his dream.
Since man’s infancy we have wondered about this thing, why we have it, or where it comes from, and if it has a deeper purpose and meaning.
I could tell you that it’s a remnant of our forsaken spirituality, as we plunged into this moment of time called life. That it’s a fragrance or a hint of something more than the physical, of a place beyond the natural, a place without time.
But we’re free to choose or imagine for ourselves, to attach our own meanings.
I realise though, that this taste of a timeless place, is an entity often taken for granted, left unexplored or forgotten, relegated to superstition and fantasy… a playground for your subconscious imaginative power, nut nothing more.
But contemplating our existence and the concept of an immortal soul and awakened spirit, the dream becomes more relevant, makes more sense if we are actually spiritual beings living in these temporary skins.
But just like the dreams themselves, which waft in and out of our lives, so too do these deep thoughts, pushed aside by the natural world, by the reality we make before us. This world of endless distraction.
Perhaps this is the duty of those like myself, as we’re given license to tentatively reach out to these realms outside of time, because we’re naturally seeking more than what we see, recognising that there appears to be something behind or above this natural world…
We chose to turn from the eternal and embrace the temporal, because the immediacy of the things around us placed a great power within our fleshly hands; ruled by our senses, we mould our future with our own works. We chose to rule our lives, instead of submitting to something spiritual. But in turning to our own devices, forsaking the spiritual, we bowed to time, and with that, we too would become like dreams – the very thing that haunts us now,
as we lowered ourselves, our lives, to slip in
And eventually out
For without the spiritual eternal, we placed our heads in the jaws of time, of age and decay
And in our passing,
if we continue to place highest value in the pursuit of things governed and hunted by the clock, then our destiny is tied to the forgotten dream,