And Again Now

Having reached an understanding about the roles of Fate and Free Will in my life I have decided to move on (figuratively and literally as it turns out.)  Two other topics have kept my mind busy over the last few months, one I call Pixilization (not to be confused with pixilation which can refer to “a state of being crazy or confused” although you might end up there) and the other, Dreams as Reality.  Pixilization will have to wait, first up is Dreams as Reality.

But not quite yet.  I know some of you like to know where I am when I am writing; I am sitting at Cachuma Lake Recreation Area just outside of Santa Barbara off Highway 154.  You might remember that I drove this road about a month ago on my way up to Morro Bay.  I love this area:  Rolling green hills (green in the winter around here), farms, orchards, vineyards, an occasional glimpse of the ocean and usually blue skies.  But no blue skies today—there is a monster storm rolling in so the noses and I are tucked into a pitch, hooked up to electric and delightfully alone in an enormous campground adjacent to a lake.  

As I mentioned last time, I decided to stop living like a poor college student.  I think Darlene was a bit sad about me taking off but her daughter, Kat agreed it was probably best.  Easier for them to move things out of the house without having to worry about Opus attacking Kiki (their cat.)  A glass door thwarted their mutual charge on at least one occasion.  (I hate to admit that Kiki jumped against the glass with paws forward while Opus lunged head first.)  

I left this morning in the pouring rain.  Yep, multiple trips from my bedroom to Beagle, everything getting soaking wet.  I was getting a bit grumpy with the whole endeavor but then thought, “Somewhere tonight (I had no idea where) I will be tucked into Beagle with the heater going and a gin coming”, and that made it all better.  I do love my Beagle—nothing makes me feel more like me than sitting in Beagle, laptop on my lap desk, herbal tea on the table, writing to you.

Initially I was just going to drive twelve or so miles and stop for the night in San Luis Obispo at my favorite hook up site (El Chorro County Park) hunkering down to ride out the two-day storm.  El Chorro’s dog park is handy when it is pouring rain—both dogs do their business much faster when they can run free.  But after drying out while sharing a coffee with Kat at Top Dog, my sense of adventure returned.  Plus, I remembered that it was Monday and Bob’s Well Bread Bakery in Los Alamos would be open, conveniently located off the 101 and before my exit for Cachuma.  Done.

I ate lunch at Bob’s and grabbed a baguette, a pain au chocolat and a blackberry lemon curd pastry to help me weather the storm.  Nothing says Storm Fun like butter encrusted pastries; you can see now why I am so content.  The wind outside is picking up, I am looking forward to the storm, to playing music as loud as I want and to hearing the rain on Beagle's roof.  And, of course, to the butter encrusted pastries.

Enough pleasure, let’s get down to business.  Dreams as Reality.  

In life we have memories of past experiences, these memories can cause us pain or pleasure and no one doubts their importance in making us part of who we are.  I posit that experiences we have while dreaming are just as important as waking moments in our development as humans; dreams create emotions, reactions, and memories and therefore shape who we are.

Take a moment and think of a dream you had, one that produced some kind of strong emotion (good or bad.)

Do you feel your body reacting?  Is there a slight smile because your dream was sweet?  Is there anxiety in the pit of your stomach because your dream was frightening?  Why should this be any less important than an experience you had while awake?  What if experiencing life while asleep was just as valuable as experiencing life while awake?  Who is to say that they are different?  In a dream you can feel just as elated or scared as you can in a waking moment and yet dreams so often get dismissed as inconsequential experiences.

When I think of a wonderful dream that brought me joy, I treat it like a memory derived while awake.  And again now, I can feel the joy, it feels real, that memory has a consequence in my life; it reveals something that makes me happy.

I feel I may have lost some of you but I am not alone in pondering this.  Robert Lanza, M.D., (an actual doctor not just some woman touring around in her Airstream) wrote about the topic in his paper, ‘Are Dreams an Extension of Physical Reality?’ published online by the Huffington Post.  (I found this after my writing and included it as proof that I am not in a state of pixilation.)

Perhaps just sleep on it.

-K

PS:  The picture is from my apartment in Seattle.  I flew up and did a gut check on living in the city for the winter versus Morro Bay.  As delightful as my apartment is, Morro wins.  But I will miss that view.