Objective Dreaming

Last night I had a dream that I could fly. Though many aspects of the dream are foggy to me I still retain the flavor of the message.

But how objective can I be in the interpretation of a dream in which I was able to fly? And within a dream, just how objective can one act in a world full of subjective imagery?

Firstly I would have to think that dreams have messages, that they are not “just a dream”.

And secondly I would also have to think that I have control, will of my own while dreaming. Wishful thinking? Perhaps not.

I have taken the attitude of observation of the world, of myself and sometimes while dreaming and have found that believing something to be true does not necessarily make it true. But FEELING something is true can always create what you wish to be true.

In my dream, I was living in a corner of a large warehouse type building. My view out the window was of the world. A gray industrialized world fueled by the profit of war and chaos.

I was not happy nor was I unhappy. It was what it was. I had my work. I would sit at a computer near the window and look at the view of the world. I found that I could fly. It was more like levitation and I could “fly” by willing myself where to go.

I would travel down the hallways meeting children playing. Then I came upon a man.He was charming and very impressed with my ability to fly. He wanted me to come and live in his world and motioned for me to look out his window. What I saw was a beautiful garden with flowers and trees, water fountains and stone covered walkways. People were singing and laughing and great works of art were displayed. It was indeed a dream world of perfect harmony.

I felt a tinge of envy of wanting to live in that world. To only see pretty and lovely things out the window. He offered me this illusion. And I felt myself becoming angry that I did not have that view. I felt myself drawn into this manipulation of reality. I felt jealousy, greed, want….and suddenly I was no longer able to fly though I did not realize it at the time. It took remembering myself, being objective about what I was seeing; using the knowledge I had, to truly see. Then I could see what I was looking at. That what I saw was an illusion. Outside the garden, outside of the walls of this illusion was a parallel illusion of a world that was a gray, industrialized, fueled by the profits of war and chaos. One that I had become comfortable in.

All is illusion created by wishes and fantasy, dreams and emotion. When I realized this, I could fly again.

Reality is fluid. Shape it with love.