July 22, 2003

Lucid Dreams

I am sitting on the front porch and my mind wanders. I have the power over time and by an act of will, I call on the century-old maple tree to repeat before my eyes in five minutes in reverse history a hundred years of growth, stopping at the moment it entered the ground as a winged seed. Then in the next five minutes, grow from seed to shade tree again. Repeat until saturated with the details of how a tree twists and lurches and spreads as it grows old, and the converse as it grows young. Repeat on a variety of tree species up the valley noting differences in the choreography.

Fireflies, in addition to emitting pulses of light, also give out tiny throbs of percussive sound, each a barely perceptible drum beat, and collectively their language reverberates between indigo hillsides at midnight. Is there a rhythm there? Can I hear a pattern that my eyes cannot see?

The soil in our pasture and woods becomes at once transparent, while it continues to provide shelter and substance for myriad insects and burrowing creatures visible, suspended underfoot. Each kind of creature has a characteristic bioluminescence, and I walk spellbound on the surface of invisible ground, suspended above countless thousands of subterranean beings I have never known that swim or float, visible as if under depth of water.

Walking in the Nameless Creek across the road, I bend and pick up one rock, then another-- rounded gray granite or pink quartz; angular shale or or sheety slate-- and for each stone I can see it in its context, can go back to its life within it's parent rock at any point back til the Very Beginning. I can trace it to its source that may have been many thousand miles and millions of millions of years from here, and I would know if you can teach a stone to talk, as Ms. Dillard has hinted.

Sap rising in every living plant emits a pulsating hum as it ebbs and flows in thin columns from the tips of rootlets to the tips of the tops of trees; creek noise slowed down and filtered produces intelligible and wise words, and laughter; I can become any insect I chose and have their senses of sight and orientation and thought, and change between a honeybee and a bush cricket at will, and go where they go, and I see this bizarre appendaged creature that is me sitting on the front porch through an insect's vision.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Indeed. And more than in our dreams.

Posted by fred1st at July 22, 2003 06:42 AM | TrackBack

I see this bizarre appendaged creature that is me sitting on the front porch through an insect's vision.

Now you're really scaring me.

Posted by: feste at July 23, 2003 12:29 PM

Out of body experiences give you complete freedom of time and space. Too bad they happen so infrequently...

Posted by: David St Lawrence at July 25, 2003 07:48 AM

That's a beautiful piece, Fred, and a beautiful, ethereal dream. Have you seen this infrequently updated blog yet, called (sadly cause it's too close to your name) 'fragments'? [http://www.littlemotors.org/lab_of_lux/fragments/]
Just dreams. It's got me paying more attention to mine. I've got a book in the bed next to me and I write down whatever I remember. It's when they wake me in the middle of the night that I feel compelled to really pay attention. Something's trying to tell me--something. If only I can figure out what it is.

Posted by: Lisa Thompson at July 31, 2003 11:39 AM

Thanks for mentioning my personal 'fragments', now more frequently updated! I adore reading others' dreams, and have a link at 'fragments' with Rannva's dreams which I find most interesting...

Posted by: Lux at September 12, 2003 03:11 PM

... and thank you Wendy for mentioning my dream log. Feel free to roam around there -- I do dream up strange things, so hopefully you'll be well entertained.

Posted by: rannva at January 20, 2004 12:18 AM

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