Dreams and Spirituality
To understand this, I need to give quite a bit of background information. It'll all make sense in the end, I hope.
As a kid I was brought up in a Christian household. My parents and us kids attended Antioch Evangelical Free Church, which is rather strict, and closely related to the Baptist church. Women wore dresses, men wore suits. There was no raising of hands and our hymnbooks were full of old, plodding worship songs, full of thees and thous. The deacon board made the church decisions; the deaconess board was the welcoming committee who made coffee.
I never felt right there, so at 16 I started attending an Assemblies of God church with my best friend. THAT was a huge switch: Assemblies of God are the churches you see on TV with huge congregations, eyes clenched, hands waving, speaking in tongues, having convulsions in the Holy Spirit. They were so friendly. Cara and I were baptized there was I was 16. Shortly afterwards, however, we both realized just how creepy these people were and I stopped attending, and she stopped nearly right after me.
For a couple years I drifted, until around 19 when I realized I felt that God was a construct designed to control people. Nothing new there for the world of philosophy, I know. But for one such as me raised in a Christian-or-else household, it was a turning point.
I went through a haze of assorted ideas about gods and goddesses, multiple and single, and finally settled on a vague Universalist belief, about energy flow and perhaps even some Transcendalism. By that point I was in a women's group made up of a couple Universalists and a couple Wiccans and a couple undecided. Ann, the leader and hostess, was one of the Universalists and I became a sort of padawan to her Jedi. I started meditating, and one night they did a reading to give me my spirit totem animals. I don't even remember now how they did it, but it was decided I had a hawk, an owl, a turtle, and a rainbow serpent as my totems. I don't recall what they mean anymore, really. Sharp vision, seeing and understanding more than I let on, keeping my own counsel. Basic stuff. I moved on to a single non-omnipotent goddess spirituality that focused on acceptance and love even for those who would show me bitterness. It was healing, and I learned compassion, even for my rapist.
At 21 I called myself an idiot and became an atheist. Everything was just a name you put on how the universe works, to explain it. I didn't need any names.
So anyhow, while in the Universalist phase I started meditating. One night, I had a dream where I met a tall, thin man with shaggy hair and glasses and he flew me to an island where I met John Greenleaf, who said he was a spirit guide. He was a short and stocky Scandinavian who looked like a coach, polo shirt and clipboard and all. We stood next to crumbling stone walls as he introduced himself. After that, I woke up, and never had the chance to see where this dream would go.
Fast forward 3 or 4 years to this morning. After months of true nightmare-free sleep, I had a bad one. It upset me enough that it triggered my waking life. After showering, I went outside and cried as I smoked, then when feeding the dog I completely freaked out over a stupid bee. I went outside to cry again, then decided to curl up in my room in the quiet. I fell asleep again.
This time, however, I had a nice dream. A comforting dream. All this time and atheism later, I had another spirit guide dream:
I walked outside the garage door. Instead of what would normally be there, instead there was a long porch along the house. Standing there facing away from the house was a man who vaguely looked like Laurence Fishburne. Taller, dressed nattily in a brown suit and sunglasses, bald, with light cocoa skin. He was in profile to me. We chatted a little--I don't remember what was said--and finally, although I knew what he was, that being a spirit guide, I said, "Just who ARE you, anyway?"
"You know who I am," he responded.
A name came to me then. "Jimmy Falls?"
He acknowledged that was his name, and that he had a lesson. He went around the side of the house and I saw he had rollerblades (!!!) on. I laughed as he swooped down the street, out of sight. He soon came back, holding a leash attached to the meanest, nastiest dog I had ever seen. The dog came running for me and I screamed, but the leash stopped him just in time. It stood snarling inches away from me as Jimmy Falls held it.
"Don't let yourself be afraid," he said. "It's all about love."
Shakily, I gathered my courage and reached out to pet the dog. I knew it had been terribly abused, that it was in pain. I felt compassion and my hands reached out to either side and started scratching behind the ears. Despite the snapping of seconds before, it let me without biting. I petted the dog and scratched its tummy, and I saw it was a female who appeared to have had at least one puppy recently, for her teats were swollen and chewed. I wondered what had happened to the puppy and if it had anything to do with the abuse. I loved that dog, and I was loved in return for the kindness shown.
I woke up then, but I felt much better. My mind had given me the comfort I couldn't find alone in my waking hours.
A return to spirituality? I don't know. The idea of real spirit guides seems hokey to me. But...it was a good thing, another healing touch. Who can say?
As a kid I was brought up in a Christian household. My parents and us kids attended Antioch Evangelical Free Church, which is rather strict, and closely related to the Baptist church. Women wore dresses, men wore suits. There was no raising of hands and our hymnbooks were full of old, plodding worship songs, full of thees and thous. The deacon board made the church decisions; the deaconess board was the welcoming committee who made coffee.
I never felt right there, so at 16 I started attending an Assemblies of God church with my best friend. THAT was a huge switch: Assemblies of God are the churches you see on TV with huge congregations, eyes clenched, hands waving, speaking in tongues, having convulsions in the Holy Spirit. They were so friendly. Cara and I were baptized there was I was 16. Shortly afterwards, however, we both realized just how creepy these people were and I stopped attending, and she stopped nearly right after me.
For a couple years I drifted, until around 19 when I realized I felt that God was a construct designed to control people. Nothing new there for the world of philosophy, I know. But for one such as me raised in a Christian-or-else household, it was a turning point.
I went through a haze of assorted ideas about gods and goddesses, multiple and single, and finally settled on a vague Universalist belief, about energy flow and perhaps even some Transcendalism. By that point I was in a women's group made up of a couple Universalists and a couple Wiccans and a couple undecided. Ann, the leader and hostess, was one of the Universalists and I became a sort of padawan to her Jedi. I started meditating, and one night they did a reading to give me my spirit totem animals. I don't even remember now how they did it, but it was decided I had a hawk, an owl, a turtle, and a rainbow serpent as my totems. I don't recall what they mean anymore, really. Sharp vision, seeing and understanding more than I let on, keeping my own counsel. Basic stuff. I moved on to a single non-omnipotent goddess spirituality that focused on acceptance and love even for those who would show me bitterness. It was healing, and I learned compassion, even for my rapist.
At 21 I called myself an idiot and became an atheist. Everything was just a name you put on how the universe works, to explain it. I didn't need any names.
So anyhow, while in the Universalist phase I started meditating. One night, I had a dream where I met a tall, thin man with shaggy hair and glasses and he flew me to an island where I met John Greenleaf, who said he was a spirit guide. He was a short and stocky Scandinavian who looked like a coach, polo shirt and clipboard and all. We stood next to crumbling stone walls as he introduced himself. After that, I woke up, and never had the chance to see where this dream would go.
Fast forward 3 or 4 years to this morning. After months of true nightmare-free sleep, I had a bad one. It upset me enough that it triggered my waking life. After showering, I went outside and cried as I smoked, then when feeding the dog I completely freaked out over a stupid bee. I went outside to cry again, then decided to curl up in my room in the quiet. I fell asleep again.
This time, however, I had a nice dream. A comforting dream. All this time and atheism later, I had another spirit guide dream:
I walked outside the garage door. Instead of what would normally be there, instead there was a long porch along the house. Standing there facing away from the house was a man who vaguely looked like Laurence Fishburne. Taller, dressed nattily in a brown suit and sunglasses, bald, with light cocoa skin. He was in profile to me. We chatted a little--I don't remember what was said--and finally, although I knew what he was, that being a spirit guide, I said, "Just who ARE you, anyway?"
"You know who I am," he responded.
A name came to me then. "Jimmy Falls?"
He acknowledged that was his name, and that he had a lesson. He went around the side of the house and I saw he had rollerblades (!!!) on. I laughed as he swooped down the street, out of sight. He soon came back, holding a leash attached to the meanest, nastiest dog I had ever seen. The dog came running for me and I screamed, but the leash stopped him just in time. It stood snarling inches away from me as Jimmy Falls held it.
"Don't let yourself be afraid," he said. "It's all about love."
Shakily, I gathered my courage and reached out to pet the dog. I knew it had been terribly abused, that it was in pain. I felt compassion and my hands reached out to either side and started scratching behind the ears. Despite the snapping of seconds before, it let me without biting. I petted the dog and scratched its tummy, and I saw it was a female who appeared to have had at least one puppy recently, for her teats were swollen and chewed. I wondered what had happened to the puppy and if it had anything to do with the abuse. I loved that dog, and I was loved in return for the kindness shown.
I woke up then, but I felt much better. My mind had given me the comfort I couldn't find alone in my waking hours.
A return to spirituality? I don't know. The idea of real spirit guides seems hokey to me. But...it was a good thing, another healing touch. Who can say?