Dreams of love and love of Dreams
In dreams, I feel love in it’s purest form towards the entities in them. Maybe “purity” is not precise word to describe it — whatever purity may mean in context of love is an abyss I shall not dive into. But, all in all, love in dreams is free from pesky circumstances, the daily burning issues (злоба дня). It’s focused, because there’s no distraction, and because there’s no distraction, it unfolds and fills the entirety of mental space. This pure connection to someone is so unmistakable, when you feel it, you know. Because you are it. You understand and are understood completely. The identity dissolves, so do walls and boundaries. Love is the focus. The focus is love. Love is. Love is all there is. Beyond this is only the experience of the divine.
Such love creates longing for me, yet the longing subsides as day continues. The cogs turn and “reality” pulls me back in. The dream evaporates. The feeling lingers for a while, then leaves too. Only ink remains — pages upon pages of written dreams. Reprocessed stories with a few grains left of the original.
In daily life, I love. Many people and many things. However, there’s always some obstacle. Some lame reason why I can’t give my all. It can be something completely minuscule. Like a bad mood, dissatisfaction. A thought about something completely unrelated. Worrying about something I’ve said in the past, or looking forward to some activity later that week. And, my own self perception, identity. Mark loves. I love. That’s so vulgar. It’s an object doing something, which is not what it truly is. It’s like saying Jake is beating a piñata. Object doing things to another objects.
The dreams show what’s possible. How can we take love a step further in the waking world?