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I woke this morning with the remnant of a dream surviving the transfer from sleep to my waking — from my psyche to my knowledge.

In the dream, I jumped from a cliff into a river below, but way further out into a place unknown.  As I traveled through the air, I remember wondering if I would survive.  Would the water be deep enough or would I break my leg?  As it turned out, I landed in safety.

Upon waking, I pondered the meaning of the dream. The dream had been powerful and I felt it to be a clue to who I am, why I lead the life I do.

Here is the result of my pondering: I am okay with being uncomfortable; I am okay with not knowing.  I think about how many places I have jumped into, totally unknown.  And yes, there I would be chafing, writhing and usually my trying to put on a brave face in the face of uncertainty, but how much broader my vistas.  Not only that, but it has broadened my faith in the universe and its gifts.

We live in a world dependent upon the mundane, upon the ordinary occurring in lockstep.  It is for this purpose that aboriginals confuse the ordinary world, utterly, for the initiates, knowing it to be the only way the mystical can be introduced by thwarting the nice plans the conductor-ego has for our next movement.  Only then will our own powerful destiny begin to rule our lives.

It is never by accident that the one-eyed, the lame or those with other physical differences are sought out by writers to be our heroes and heroines, possessing a special knowing.  These injuries or differences force us into parts of the psyche reserved perhaps for the very old.

So this is why I don’t particularly like air conditioning.  I like its comfort; I dislike its intention to lull me into sleep.

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