The Dreamer

The Dreamer.

I recall walking a street in Sydney once and sensing the dream-consciousness becoming alert parallel to waking consciousness. But it is rare to hear from it and there is little transgression between the two. But something about Sydney's unique dynamism awoke it.

Last night I fell asleep beside this computer and woke as the dream consciousness disappeared... pfft! ...and the waking self appeared with its perceptual constraints and divisive misperceptions.

Outside of consciousness lie other consciousnesses. When I sensed them in Sydney it was incomprehensible and strange. Invisible powers.

Out in the world our work is "orthopraxis". Out of action we reflect, until by slow degrees action and reflection occur at once. We reflect on the impermanence of these perceptions and ideas; we ask "What is it experiences this?"; we are mindful of senses, thoughts, emotions, impulses, until the deeper grain of experience is revealed beyond arbitrary categories, false opposites, subtle distortions of context that foster victimhood and vanity, and blatant denials of experience deeper than the sense of self. That fairly well summarises this life-path; it says nothing, however, of what lies beyond.

I do not remember my dreams. But I remember this. My dreams in childhood reflected childish things, abandonment issues and wish-fulfillments; now my adult dreams reflect the adult matters:

In my dream last night I was not "I", but another self. That much I recall, tantalisingly. There was a dream self at work, autopoetic. I recall he had goals, dreams, visions and wishes, as well as a world to himself, relations, and ideas. I recall this, but not the dreamer himself. And I am forlorn without the memory.