Morpheus

Just before I went to bed last night, the horizon from my back deck looked like this.

And when I got up a few hours later to let the Beagle Brothers out, the sky looked like this.

In between witnessing those two distinct but visually interesting vistas, I had a dream about creation.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpheus

It was daylight. So brightly sunny it was hard to see what was around you. I was part of a large social group, a tribe of similar beings. I’m pretty sure we were all dressed similarly, like in ancient Egyptian loin cloths. No shirts. No shoes. I could feel the sun bake my skin.

I couldn’t describe any of the beings around me, no individual faces come to mind, but felt like I was one among many. We were all standing in a loose formation. There was all of this energy and information flowing around us like a wind or a series of ocean waves rushing past your legs towards the shore, and then out again like a rip tide. Despite all of their individual and collective efforts, the people around me couldn’t seem to capture it in any useable form. It all slipped through their fingers, like mercury. It was frustrating the group, who were intent on capturing it, and they couldn’t seem to move on from their fruitless efforts.

For some reason, I was able to look at this free flowing energy in the area immediately around me and see patterns and connections forming among its essence and then the energy, which had its own consciousness, understood that I could see these patterns in its essence and connected with me and materialized and allowed me to gather it into groupings and concepts with a beginning, middle and end. And this conscious energy wanted me to give each of these groupings names. Which I did.

The dream ended with me looking down at a series of these energy groupings now in physical form wrapped in the old school leather volumes with old school twine, something like this, but on a much larger scale,

(public domain image from https://stockcake.com/i/ancient-bound-manuscripts_1278631_995753)

and the last thing I did was print a name on their bindings, and only when I did that was each volume complete and the other people in this large group were able to look upon and see it for the first time. And I felt such pleasure in making that happen.

And then just as I was hand lettering the final binding in the group of volumes, which were each physically larger than I was, Bandit did his thing and choked me to consciousness, so I would let him and his brother out into the night to do their thing. But this time the ephemeral images stayed with me, floating around my consciousness – but outside of my body – like being trapped in a slow moving dust devil or snow globe as I went out into the night and snapped that second photo of the moon over The Old Man.

So, I wrote it down just now as clearly as the images would allow. And now it has dissipated.

There ya go.

Dreams are cool.

Well, Tuesday has intruded on my deeper consciousness, and I have to go earn a living with my daytime skillset. Melville’s Bartleby the Scrivener.

But at least Monday is in our collective rearview mirror. That counts for something.

So, my fine, five readers, let’s get that last cuppa joe down our gullets and get out into the real world. But don’t let it control you. After all, it’s not really real.

And whatever else we get up to, let us make today a great one.