R28 | SceneNewspaper.com | April 2015
ENTERTAINMENT // BUDDHIST ADVISOR
Dreams, Redux
BY JOHN PRICE-KABHIR
THE BUDDHIST ADVISER
(This column follows from last month’s piece
about dreams and dreaming.)
But dreams have a lightness about
them. As a brick or stone carries weight,
dreams carry no weight. Although the
images in dreams are ethereal, the “things”
of dreams do not have weighty substance.
We float through our dreams. Even night-
mares keep us one step from the gritty
reality of waking life. Though they can
torment us, they do not physically injure.
It is only in imagination that dreams carry
substance.
Pema Chodron, the great Zen nun phi-
losopher, wrote of a recurring dream she’d
had after a divorce. She was tormented
by the divorce. Nuns weren’t supposed to
divorce. She felt it as a weakness. In this
dream, night after night, she was chased
by a dragon. It never quite caught up to
her, but she felt that if it did, she would be
mangled or killed. Then, one night, when
the dream was dreadfully vivid, just as the
dragon cornered her and was about to grab
her, she turned on it and screamed, “No!
No, you cannot have me. Go away!” And
sure enough, the monster was dispelled,
gone, never to return. This is most vivid
dreaming. But the key is the dragon never
got her. Like a dream of falling, where the
person falling would die if the dreamer hit
bottom, because if she did, the sequence
would end in death and the dreamer‘s end.
We’re never killed in our dreams. If we had
been, we’d never wake up!
The violence in dreams does not reach
climax. I can think of no instance where
I was physically injured by something
in a dream, only terrified by what might
happen. I might feel anxious or intense fear
concerning some awful event in a dream,
terrified. Never am I pummeled. I am
injured, but I am never really physically
hurt, but never am; in fact, I recall no
dream actually bringing real pain. The pan
in dreams is impending damage or deep
disappointment. In a twisted way, dreams
have a kind of solace in “what might have
been“.
Oh yes, I desire this or that in a dream.
A recurring dream I’ve had the past several
years involved getting out of work at my
former job and not knowing how to get
home. Or, in another recurring dream, I
desire to lead a group of people to a place
and find myself lost. But I do not feel
pain in this context. So in those ways, my
wanting, my desire, brings want but no
pain. While in these senses, dreams can be
unkind, but they do not physically hurt
me. So when we think of the Buddhist
notion of desire as one of the major tor-
ments of life, dreams surely can bring that.
And in the sense of being hurt by a “what
if,” he lessons of dreams are kind in their
own ways.
Like the dream about being frustrated
about leading people home or to a desired
place, I can most definitely see the lesson.
In my unfulfilled desire to reach fulfillmet
in a life goal never reached, the dream tells
me about how I’d never led “my people’
to our appointed goal, the lesson is that I
should have ever given up, no matter what
the goal. I failed to lead the people to the
promised land, to overcome the obstacles.
I have dreamed over and over of trying
to find my way home. This very well might
relate to not having an unhappy childhood
This is truly archetypal, like the journeys of
Ulysses. Many times I am a Don Quixote,
ceaselessly, night after night, trying to
find my way home from a long and ardu-
ous journey. No ironically, the journey is
simply finding my way home from work.
And when I am home, isn’t the same home.
It’s a home I’ve left. I’ve given up, and
upon returning home, I went back to is an
altered home. My son is gown up without
me. My animals are dead. Dreams are not
fulfilled as I thought they should have
been. There’s a clear image in that, and it’s
an image of why I turned to Zen. It’s sad.
Another dream, also about finding
my way from “here” to “there” involves
travel of an epochal nature. At times, I
am with a special group of people who’ve
been chosen to represent a strong force
of humankind. We’re of all ages and rep-
resent a cross-section of young and old,
science and humanities. We board a giant
vessel designed to travel through all of
earth’s climates and terrains. Our destiny
is the North Pole, then back, quite slowly
through all climates and environments.
This great journey is completed and does
brig us home, unlike the other more simple
treks, Noah’s Ark?
Then, of course, there are the dreams
of sex. Applying Freudian psychology to
dreams, I conclude I do have issues with
my parents, and I find I am not homosex-
ual, if only desiring coupling with females
is my goal. I’ll admit to having desires in
dreams that would be inappropriate in
waking life, for there have been instances
where my sexual desire involves women
with whom sex would be inappropriate by
normal mores.
I sat with my mother in hospice for two
solid months while she died. She seemed to
be dreaming, and talking in her delirium.
One night, when it seemed she was just on
the verge of dying, she talked of sitting at a
dinner table. In a curious sense, out nurse
that night was rather grossly offended
because she was a born again Christian,
and my mom definitely was not. One of
the guests did not show. “I know who‘s
missing,” she lamented. “It’s Larry, we’re
waiting for Larry. When he comes, then we
can eat.” It made her very sad that Larry
wasn’t there. Yet it was still weeks before
she died. Larry, a real person long dead,
was missing and we couldn’t begin to eat
before he arrived.
This vignette reminds my of my dream
of cousin Tim. He’s just outside, on the
other side of the window, out in the yard.
I am aimlessly wandering inside the house.
I can hear his voice, in a quiet whisper,
complete with the unusual inflexion of his voice. The glass is dusty. I can see his image, smudged by the dust. And he’s speaking in
a whisper, barely audible, but I can hear
him and I know he wants me to come out.
I want to join him, but there is no door.
I can find no door before I awaken. Tim
had died suddenly and unexpectedly just
a few weeks before I started having this
dream. Tim was the closest thing I had to
a big brother. He shepherded me through
all the manly rites of passage: driving a car,
swimming, fishing, drinking beer, girls. In
times where very important things a boy
must do to become a man, Tim was there
for me. Like my mom missing Larry (her
brother in law) at her own Last Supper,
I had a dream of missing my dear cousin
Tim in an image associated with death - in
a dream.
I use the Larry and Tim dream anec-
dotes to illustrate how significant dreams
can be, even in their mysteries. I do not
understand dreams, but I know they’re
important, and they bring meaning
through their unique veils, meaning tell-
ing us vagaries illustrating some obvious
import and some confusing and too vague
to make clear sense.
But dreams are exquisite. Think of life
without dreams. It would be a life with
much less mystery. Ah, the mystery of
dreams. So very sweet in their own faces
through the dusty window.
John Price - Kabhir, is an ordained Zen
householder. I welcome your input at 920-
558-3076;
[email protected]
It is only in
imagination
that dreams
carry substance.