dream/space/time

So much given in the hours of darkness. Silence: surely earth needs the respite of quiet as much as we do. Sleep itself, such a miracle of regeneration. And then, of course, dreams.

Dream/time: maybe not so much another timeline as the same one, the "known" one, magnified. A ruler measuring micromillimeters instead of just feet. A chance to get inside the current instead of riding only its surface. Stepping, for a moment, both inside and outside this consensus called regular time. The gift of looking back and, sometimes, forward. And now and then -- acutely awake -- into the embering heart of the present.

Dream/space: a mirror appears on the narrow room's confining wall, doubles habitation. Where one moves suddenly is known for its true expansiveness. Reality is finally fully engaged, an experience perhaps similar to what a friend named as "felt sense". Room to move, breathing room, available space for supposed impossibilities. Capacity to use essential senses that wait constricted, if not suffocated, during waking hours. Remembrance: so much more around us, and so much more going on in it, than we acknowledge. Our own given and natural altered state. The space we need access to, to truly inhabit our lives.

The week's gift to me of these things: in some dreamspace, I sit in complete tranquility and observe the composition of a love poem. Not so much that I watch a person write - more that I watch words materialize on a page. The page is like smooth parchment and the words move, mutable and momentary, like peaceful smoke or calm breeze through tree branches. The entire poem is made of anagrams. Each line praises the attributes of its beloved one in a new sequence of namings that turns inside out, somersaults over itself and becomes new celebration, reusing all the same letters, before starting over again in the next exuberant line. There is no where or when. There are no people or objects, other than the words and the page and the life that suffuses them. There's no me, to speak of, and no need to move or act. I am only observation. And in holding attendance to this lovely happening, I'm given a dose of timeliness and spaciousness that, quiet but potent in its joy, travels with me still into the waking journey.