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The Bungalow and the Open Ocean


This evening as I sit down at my keyboard, I find myself pondering dreams. What do they mean? Where do they come from? Why do we have them? Sure, I could google all those things but what fun would that be? I’d rather explore the concept with my own mind. For me, dreams have always been kind of a strange phenomenon.

I remember dreaming a lot when I was younger, pretty much every night and that more often than not, these dreams were horrifying. They weren’t scary in the way you might think though. They weren’t the monster under the bed, or something is chasing me sort. There were no creepy clowns or gruesome demons that tormented me nightly. The sort of dreams I used to have were not only very intensely real, but despite being set in what seemed all manner of environment and time period, they seemed completely normal.

The usual laws of physics that apply to the world we consider to be reality, still applied and the things I saw really exist, or at least they have at one point in time or another. Now, I’m not trying to say that what other people see in their dreams isn’t just as real as “reality” I’m just trying to explain what I mean when I say mine seemed completely normal. The one thing they all seemed to have in common however, was that night after night, I would die in the dream. If ever the type of death was the same, the circumstances and environment were different, I was different. I was me, and also not me at the same time.

I can’t say that experiencing death from a first-person perspective night after night was in any way a pleasant experience, especially at a young age. Perhaps this is why since the age of probably 7 or 8, I’ve very rarely dreamt, or at least I have no conscious memory of dreaming. Maybe my brain got tired of seeing the same sort of thing over and over and just started blocking the dreams out. Who knows?

I have spent some time pondering it though. Where did they come from? How could I have come up with so many creative ways of experiencing the end of my own existence? Why was I never the same person and never myself but I always felt like it was just a different version of me, from a different time and place? I’m willing to entertain the notion that perhaps I was reliving parts (well, the end part at least) of past lives. I can’t say for sure if that’s true or not, but it makes about as much sense to me as any other explanation I’ve been able to come up with. Either way, these aren’t really the sort of questions I have in mind for tonight.

Truth be told, I guess I don’t really have any questions in mind for tonight. Certainly I do have questions, but it’s more that I’m just not so concerned with finding the answers at this moment because I’m enjoying the wonder and experience as it is without attempting to define it.

As I mentioned, I very rarely dream any more these days, but I have noticed a very significant increase in the chances that I will dream, and recall said dream, on occasions when I’ve had some energy work done on me, or when someone consciously sends me energy and directs their thoughts to me. Now before any of you get ideas, I do think there is a part of that equation in which I also have to consciously be open to receiving what is being directed to me. Well, I think I must be open to it most of the time but as with most things, always and never never always apply. There are undoubtedly exceptions, but those I’ve yet to figure out in the least.

Another odd little observation I’ve made is that on such occasions when I do dream, as I mentioned above, the individual sending me the energy and thoughts, or whomever I allowed to work on me energetically (for those confused by what I mean when I say “work on me” I refer to energy work such as reiki and similar modalities) will appear in the dream with me and have some major role to play in whatever scenario plays out in front of my closed eyes.

Occasionally these dreams will offer me some greater insight into my own inner workings and why I think or act the way I do but other times they are just very pleasant evening escapes into my own imagination (though I often find myself sincerely hoping I’m perhaps a bit of a psychic and am seeing my own future experiences not yet manifested into physical reality). Last night was one of those latter sorts of dreams, one that was incredible beyond words. And before your mind wanders off into the gutters, no, it wasn’t THAT sort of dream.

The proverbial curtain rose and I found myself nestled comfortably in bed. I knew it wasn’t my bed because, while it was plush and comfortable, it was clearly a thinner mattress than mine. The bed frame was also different. Rather than the simple black steel I ordinarily see upon opening my eyes, this one was made from something more like bamboo and had a very island sort of feel to it. Instead of being bundled up under thick and somewhat heavy blankets, I was laying on and under a simple clean white sheet. Not the sort you’d get in a hospital type setting, the sort that feels so soft you wonder how many times it had to be washed and how it stayed so nice without becoming thread bare.

Perhaps this is an indication of thread count, I don’t have a clue. My sheets are just the normal off-the-shelf-from-ikea sort and as a tattoo artist who constantly seems to be adding to my collection of skin art, owning white sheets is pretty much out of the question. These ones however were very luxurious, light and airy so that I could feel the faintest of pleasant cool breeze across my skin through them. I didn’t take too much notice of my surroundings beyond that as they were sparse and simple and I felt like I was meant to be looking for something.

Rising from bed, I headed out of the room, through a small tidy living area with a simple kitchen and out the open front door. I stepped out onto a small weathered wooden deck with a couple of chairs facing out towards the clean sandy beach and the waves crashing gently upon the shore. I continued on, walking down a couple stairs to step onto the sand. I was barefoot, having just awoken, and I remember the sand was nice and dry but despite the beautiful display of color the sun was putting on across the horizon, it had yet to really warm the sand. I stood there for a moment, taking in the view and listening to the waves, feeling the cool sand under my feet and between my toes. After a few deep calm breaths, I headed off down the beach to my left. A ways down the beach I could see the object of my search and I strolled in that direction casually, not in any rush, just enjoying the beauty of the natural world around me.

As I got closer, she turned around and the most beautiful smile lit her face. Between her smile and the sparkle in her eyes, the sunrise was nothing more than a pale backdrop. Feeling a smile break across my own face I walked up to her and we embraced. I could feel the warmth of her skin mixed with the cool drops of water that had splashed up as she walked to meet me through the breaking surf. With my arms wrapped around her I stood there, holding her for a brief time and enjoying just being in the moment together. Pulling back slightly, our lips met ever so softly and we shared a gentle and tender kiss before retreating a short distance so that I could look into her eyes.

I must have lost myself in those eyes because the next thing I was aware of was a much stronger breeze blowing across my left cheek and that the sand beneath my feet had taken on a much firmer texture. The sounds of the waves were replaced by the sound of wind filling canvas and water rushing along the side of fiberglass mixed with the faint sounds of metal jingling on steel cables. I knew the sound, recognizing it from memories in the past, as the sound of water rushing along a hull while wind filled the sails and pulled the rigging taught.

I then became aware that my hand was no longer gently resting in the curve of her back, but rather rested on top of hers with the helm under both of them. Smiling again, I looked up to see the open ocean and turning my head towards the bow, I saw the clean white yacht stretched out before us. A couple of meters in front of the main mast was another couple, dressed almost comically in typical boat attire, shoes and all.

They too seemed incredibly happy just being there and sharing the experience with each other. They laughed and smiled as they coiled a couple of the lines that were laid out on the deck before them. It was as if time slowed to barely a crawl and stretched out to infinity before my eyes. What in reality probably lasted but a moment, I was able to draw out and enjoy for possibly hours.

The next scene began in more of a blink of an eye than a smooth transition focused on a single point where everything else fades away to nothing. All four of us were seated around a small dining table below deck laughing and talking while sharing a delicious meal. The scene passed almost like a time lapse with no sound save for the sound of the water quietly running along the outside of the hull in real time.

The scenery changed then, but the sound of the water remained adding a second layer; that of water flowing from a shower head inside what would be considered a cozy shower if one was feeling particularly generous. I’ll leave any further imagery to your imagination as my own imagination evidently far exceeds my ability to adequately describe some things. The feeling of the water and her hands combined with the suds from the soap made my skin feel electrified and the slightly floral and honeyed aromas rising on the currents of steam from the hot water held my attention more captivatingly than the little I could see in the soft dim candle light.

Flash forward to the next scene. A small but lavishly simple and clean cabin located below the aft deck. Aside from a plain wooden dresser running the length of one wall and the small portholes showing the colorful glow of the coming evening on the open ocean, the only other object in the room was a bed adorned in similar fashion to the one I’d originally woken in at the onset of the dream. Before me I saw her standing with her back to me. I took note of the way her hair fell down her back and the strength I could see she carried in her shoulders. As I approached, I admired the curve of her sides leading down to her hips. Gently reaching out, I placed the tips of my fingers on her shoulders, running them across her collar bone and down her arms until our fingers laced together and she pulled me against her, wrapping my arms around her and leaning her head back against my chest.

I leaned my head slightly to the right, resting my cheek on the top of her head lightly and together we stood there swaying with the gentle rocking of the boat beneath our feet. As I closed my eyes, breathing in and back out slowly, our position changed and we were laying together, holding each other cuddled up in the bed that had stood before us. For just a moment I looked out through the porthole and gazed at the stars, thanking them for guiding me to exactly where I’d always wanted to be and finding that which I was destined to find. Reveling in bliss and gratitude I again let my eyes close and drifted off to sleep.

And that was where the dream concluded and seconds, minutes, or hours later, I awoke again back in my own bed. It was like a perfect little vacation all wrapped up in one beautiful little package and all I had to do was lay down, close my eyes, and let go.

I suppose this is what has me pondering dreams this eve. Where did all that come from? From her? From me? Or is it a result of Us, coming forth from both of us simultaneously? I have no answer to that question, nor do I feel inclined to dwell on such matters further. For now, I’d rather just be grateful that it simply is and soak it all in.