Popular Dreams

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 This morning at the cafe I’m looking for a dog that will hunt! That’s my wry way of using an old “ turn of the tongue” phrase murmured by sanguine sages in  sleepy, Deep South barber shops when they think some rascal politicians ideas are stuff and nonsense: “That dog won’t hunt!” Well, for me, being neither sanguine nor sage until the caffeine hits this morning, I’m patiently awaiting that dog called “Inspiration,” i.e. an idea that will hunt, i.e. drive out a whole flock of other ideas from the deep thicket of my mind.  Or, to invent a tolerably Southern saying, I’m in search of “ A tale that will at least, wag!”

Ah, here comes the title – Popular Dreams!  Now that  is stirring up a cloud of…no, a thundering herd of … fleet footed Thoughts charging my way! Finally, we’re off!

Sort of.

I mean, what can be said about “Popular Dreams”?  What’s  there in any dream that’s real and substantial ? Well, maybe that’s just it; there’s nothing in or about dreams that is substantial for me. They’re all in my head, right?

Let me be clear: For me, dreams are mind – manufactured and… you can watch them. What interests me here in this little exploration, is the watcher of the dreams. But watching our dreams is not often recognized; mostly, we are our dreams, night and day varieties included. That’s what makes ‘em popular They’re all about us – our hopes and…dreams! No wonder then, that hope/dreams are like hoop-dreams! They vanish like  Thoreau’s thoughts:

“Those sparrows too, are thoughts I have. They come and go; they flit by quickly on their migrations, uttering only a faint “chirp”…they will be gone directly without leaving me a feather.”

Ditto for dreams.

 Our Last Dreams may be studied and recorded, but one thing’s certain, no matter the content – they don’t last. What seems  to last about dreams is the residue that remains in our daily activities; they shape our attitudes and expectations about our lives and how we interpret life around us. Dreams, like thoughts, shape our experience. It’s useful to remember though, that our interpreted experiences are just that, and not real. How quickly we forget…how soon we substitute the real with our ideas about it! Not that anything is wrong here; it’s just that, for some of us, we wake up one sunny morning and see that we’ve been dreaming our life.

We see that those dreams are not only local – not just in my head, but also Regional and National and International!  And Celestial too…in our head! Indeed, dreams are cultural collections of tribal values forged and transmitted through generations of  accepted and  acceptable thoughts and feelings.

But some of us – some sooner, some later, some when they die, perhaps – get this insight into the ways mind/dreams alter but do not change, Reality.

There occurs an easing off of a sole reliance on the mind and the senses to tell us what’s happening .

We begin to see between our thoughts and dreams; to glimpse what is actual and true; to  re-cognize that which Is.

“And though your mind would fabricate meaning, your eyes tenderly let go of what they see.”

That dog stops hunting for answers, sniffing at dreams, chasing those imaginary birds. Breathless, it stops, and  finally, rests in silence.

That rest is silence.