I am falling through a sky of fire. There is fire everywhere. I am clamoring to stay on top of a large inflated earth-like ball, floating calmly down through this sky of fire. The ball is about 10 feet in diameter. I am safe, for now, sprawled atop the only earth I know. I am falling through a sky of fire. Not feeling heat, but quite aware that my situation is precarious, I barely manage to hold on and not slide off of the floating blue globe. I notice that I am descending through the fiery atmosphere, yet not dangerously. There is nothing below me. It is all swirling flames with the vibrant reds and oranges of a dreaming mind. The alchemy of the dream state has placed me in these Venusian currents.
For a moment, I felt like an explorer on the open sea, alone, vulnerable, terrified by the vastness of the fire, it unrepentant like the sea, and not in control, as the sea would have it.
As the muted fall
continued, I hit with a light “Thump!” I have landed somewhere safely.
On my neighbor’s not so spacious suburban side lawn, feet from a sturdy maple tree, flat on my back, I look up. There, sporting a moustache and a long beard is my family German Shepard, “McKinley.” He was part Alaskan Husky, thus the name McKinley, for the highest mountain in North America, now called by its ancient name “Denali.” My parents brought home the puppy McKinley on Christmas Eve 1974; our family had been in Fairbanks, Alaska in the summer of ‘74.
The sage looking McKinley is speaking to me, putting forth proverbs of wisdom and discussing important things. In my mind, he is the enlightened man upon the mountain, yet my journey to him was not a climb, but a fall. I am in awe. I barely understand. Then I wake up.
What was that? I
tried to fall back asleep and regain the dream. I could not. It was gone. It was done.
A few days later I was at my parents’ house, three houses away from where I “landed,” and I told my Dad and my brother, Joe, about the crazy dream that I had. Joe was quick to say, “What were you smoking?” I said it wasn’t pot but my mind that up conjured this phantasm. My Dad, always an insightful man, said, “Wait, there’s more to this.” “There was a lot of stress resulting in the fire, the blue earth was safety, although a fragile safety. You were safe, for the moment.” The Earth is only as safe as the next asteroid’s trajectory.
He went on, “McKinley, our dear family dog, was home, it was good, and familiar, it was sanctuary, God saw you home.” Joe said, ‘Wow, good analysis, Dad.” I think he’s on to something. Although the Tscherne’s, formerly the Izzo’s, side lawn was nice, it was a weird sanctuary. Why did I land on this lawn? Maybe my Dad was cutting our lawn at the time, and I didn’t want to unwittingly land on him. The sapient McKinley, on the other hand, speaking knowledge in tongues, let me know that everything was alright. My Dad was right. All arrows pointed to my being safe and secure.
Perhaps the bearded McKinley was a representation of my father, who wore a moustache and beard. He has always been my favorite human until his passing in 2014. I was secure in the safety of the father, in a nice neighborhood, with feelings of contentment, well-being, and emotional rest. A God-loving, Church-going family man, my Dad once said to me, “My best moments at work are not as good as my worst moments at home.” He was always happy to be home, in his and my Mom’s house, which he worked his butt off to maintain. That feeling has lent itself to me. My Dad said he didn’t care if my Mom swamped him with woe as soon as he entered the house from work. “Steven spoke abruptly to me, Loretta got a ‘C’ on her math test, and Richard broke roses off the neighbor’s rose bush.” Ah, good times.
I don’t remember
what could have provoked such a dream. Maybe it was 10 bottles of Beck’s (with
friends, of course) or being over-served some flaming beverage that brought on
the dream, or, was it just a curious twinkling of an unencumbered mind?
Richard M.
Sept. 2020
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