Hi! I’m Starman! Can you keep a secret?
There is a realm you visit every night, and it is more real than the world you wake up to each day. You might say this ‘real’ world is actually ‘virtual’, now that we have reached a point where we can understand what that means. We go through our lives in order to achieve certain goals. Goals we set out for ourselves before we were born. This is our laboratory. Of course, we don’t allow ourselves to really believe any of this, because it spoils the experiment, and we are unable to learn the lessons or accomplish our goals. It must be deadly ‘real’. But I’m telling you to relax and enjoy the show. All of it, even the scary parts, the sad parts, all of it. Each night you get an opportunity to glimpse behind the curtain, so to speak, and take part in the true. (I hesitate to call it a world, or universe, or whatnot, because it defies description, so let us call it the ‘true’. From there lies the answers to our questions, the inspiration for our creations. But it appears in a language which is foreign to us. There may have been a time when we could easily decipher the language of dreams, but today they often remain a puzzle. I can give you an example:
Last night Russell (who invited me to post on his blog), had the strangest dream. It was in a city, probably San Francisco where he lives, and cars were racing by on both sides of a busy street corner. A thin young woman that Russell knew said listlessly “They killed my mommy!”. It was said in a matter-of-fact tone. Oddly, the entire scene was a cartoon. It was as though Russell was being told that it wasn’t serious, wasn’t real. Russell wanted to race over to the friend and console her, although she didn’t seem to be distaught. She seemed to be wearing a grey dress with a black question mark across it. Question mark, indeed. That is how dreams often are. Then, Russell dreamed of a television in which you could watch the same movie from several different perspectives. On one channel you could watch the movie from one character’s perspective, one another channel another character’s perspective, and so on. This would enable the viewer to get a full version of events. As Russell began to wake up, he thought “In the future that is how films will be, you can click to see the movie through various character’s eyes.” Unlike the cartoon, this dream seemed pretty straight forward, like brain storming in a film company’s boardroom.
It seems that there is an inexhaustible sea of inspiration available to you every night, provided you can recall it the next day. Another path to this ocean of information is through meditation, or perhaps prayer, as well. My friend, David Lynch writes about how transcendental meditation has opened him up to that endless source of ideas. He also compares it to an ocean, and calls his efforts to create, the attempt to spear the big fish. (I bet you didn’t know David knew a comic book character, but he does!)
So the next time you go to sleep, watch closely, because you are getting a glimpse into the same well that Einstein, Mark Twain, or maybe even the Beatles, gazed into. Somewhere down in that well you can hear them singing:
I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.