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Dreaming wide awake
“That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed.” - Neil Gaiman
In sleep, we set aside the rigid focus on linear time and allow our spirits to dive deep and meander through the percolating stew of beingness. In dreams, we are recalled to our larger selves and the roles we play in creating and executing our grand and exquisitely rendered reality.
This reality is governed by very specific, very precise rules that define what is and isn’t possible - what can and can’t be seen (by whom and by what), what can and can’t be created, measured, lived, and when and how we come and go. But the skin of this reality is both permeable and thin. It’s not meant to confine us so much as help us carry the light of who we are into physical reality - to dream ourselves awake.
I mention all this because I’ve been having a waking dream (what I call a periscope dream) in which I am suddenly aware of Earth as a sentient being - a living, breathing presence with intention and purpose - and myself as a speck of light twinkling on her skin. Earth and I are known to one another and often exchange what I call “memos of understanding,”reminders of the love we share.
In this dream shared by Earth, I see billions of lives coming and going. Those who are arriving resemble tiny meteors speeding with purpose and intent into physical form. Those who are departing are more deliberate. The intensity of their light waxes and wans - glowing one moment and fading the next as they dip and bob and weave their way upward like fireflies on a muggy summer’s night. They are following some traectory known only to themselves but it is clear they are heading home.
I suspect this dream is the result of the sudden and unexpected deaths of so many cherished souls recently. It is Earth’s gentle way of comforting and reminding me that all is well, and nothing is ever really lost - just transformed.
Nevertheless, since I am still part of this grand reality we are co-creating, I feel compelled to honor, and thank those who have left with a song. I have chosen, “Drops of Jupiter” by Patrick Monahan from the band, Train. Patrick wrote it as a way to celebrate and remember his mother when she passed. It captures both her irrepressible personality and the many joyful ways he imagines her spending time now that she’s left Earth.
Special thoughts and love also go out to the island of Maui and the Hawaiian people. Maui was my home for nine years and I will be forever grateful for the love and support she gave me. “Hoʻouna aloha, Maui.” This song is for you: Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Wonderful World mix by Israel “IZ” Kamakaweiwo’ole
P.S. Don’t forget to subscribe to my new Substack, “Whales in My Backyard,” where I am sharing the stories of the many creatures who have been my teachers over the years. Paid subscribers also have access to the “WIMBY Chronicles - Tales of a wandering humpack whale.” This material is specifically for kids (ages 6 - 12) and includes creative activities, games, and songs. You can learn more about WIMBY by clicking the image below to visit his page.
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Copyright 2023 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.