Are our dreams ours? Or are they given us? And if they are, then what is their purpose? I believe that the purpose of our dreams regardless of whether they are ours or they are given us, is to cause us to search beyond our own feelings, for our feelings are only one dimension of us, one layer among countless layers that make up our being. Our goal, whether we realize it or not is to capture the concept of and completely imbue our whole selves with Oneness, with the unification of all of our dimensions and layers so they work in complete and utter harmony with each other. This is what Christ did when He performed the At-one-ment. Our dreams are very similar to this thing that we call love.
My father was in town last week and we had a good ol’ time. I do say that I am only twenty-four years old, yet it has taken me about twenty-three of those years to figure out how to talk with my dad, but now we get along great, and all I have to do is laugh silently and sometimes not so silently under my breath when he starts cussing about some whatnot thing or another.
On a more serious note though, growing up I never witnessed anything between my parents that suggested that they were even married. I remember even wondering before they got divorced if they had already been divorced and I was too young to have remembered. But this last time he was in town he said something to me that I found pretty remarkable. We were driving down some road in Salt Lake City junkyard hoping for parts to my Buick, when he softly, and hesitantly asked me “how is your mother?” There was definite sincerity in his voice, but if you were not his son, you probably would not have caught it. I simply said that she was doing well. “That’s all I needed to know,” he said.
I don’t believe that once you’ve really loved someone you can ever not love them regardless of anything, even the eternities, because that is where love lives, within the streams of heaven that continue on forever and ever and have no end. It seems to me that some people try to simply flip a switch in their minds and say, “well, it was good knowing ya,” because that’s what they “want”, well all the while our hearts are the ones being molested and bruised because of our minds pride and desires. They say our minds are what “create” our reality, but I say that it is our hearts that selflessly offer the substances needed to organize that reality into whatever it does so. But we forget that that’s where we get our building blocks from. Nevertheless, where do our hearts get it to offer? From the same place faith comes from. It is created, sparked into existence within our consciousnesses when perfect love, beauty and hope combine to create this knowledge of something that is true but not seen, it is faith. Our most beautiful dreams are made up of love, and too often it takes something as extreme as death for a soul to finally give in and understand that our dreams are what we are, and that “we are” real. At the footsteps of death itself a soul realizes that there is more than this physical life, even though they’ve professed that knowledge -their whole lives, and when they do come to that knowledge their dreams are what causes them to continue because their most intimate, true dreams that were either summoned from their very own depths, or given to their depths by an external yet equally divine source as ones own truest self, are our most intimate true desires playing through the brain when we sleep, because that is the only time we have an opportune moment to listen properly to our hearts who speak, and speak softly, and thusly are hardly ever heard when we are awake. It is those things that we cry out for as we start to fade from this life that we will have in the eternities if our hearts are true, and I believe that most of us, deep down have true hearts, that is why we are no persons to judge critically of any other. I don’t believe and have never believed that anyone can simply flip a switch and use past tense in describing their love for someone they’ve ever truly loved. I think there must be something dreadfully wrong if they try to do so. My parents will never be together again, but I know that my dad, if forced to say anything about my mom would never say that he “loved” her, because I know that he “loves” her.
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