“All desiring is dreaming and all dreaming takes you away from you…The dream can exist only if you go away from you. The dream has to be a falsification of reality; the dream has to be something else than reality.”
—Osho from The Man Who Loved Seagulls (pp. 192-193)
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On Martin Luther King Day, I dug through my papers and found a piece I had written a few years back called “I Have A Dream” and posted it on “Enlightening Nonsense” [http://rebelyogi.com/i-have-a-dream.html]. The first version was “I Have A Wet Dream” and involved me, Martin and his seven mistresses in a tour de orgy, which I sold to Ebony Penthouse Forum in exchange for a handjob from that month’s centerfold. When it was published, they had changed my name to Leroy and made my cock only 12”, feeling that by taking off two inches the readers would be less depressed when they sized up their own assets to my manhood.
The very next morning I was on the crapper reading my daily Osho when one of the first things I read was saying that dreams were bullshit and to stop dreaming:
“Desire is a dream and to work for a dream is doomed from the very beginning, because a dream can never become real. Even if sometimes you feel it has become almost real, it never becomes real—a dream by nature is empty. It has no substance in it.” [The Man Who Loved Seagulls (p. 195)]
When a seeker is driftwood, whatever he reads on any given day can change the current of his whole belief system. He may believe that Avatar was the best movie ever made but when he reads one bad review about how the story was weak at best, you will hear him asserting to all his friends like a born-again movie critic, “How could you like that movie? The storyline was totally non-existent!”
I am not driftwood. I don’t change my tune as quickly as the average American changes the station as he channel surfs the brainwashing box. I reflect, I ask and, if it comes to it, I am willing to destroy any false belief that was only propped up on hot air and not fact—even if it comes from a particular group that I support or something that I have firmly stated as fact and will look friggin’ stupid when I have to write a retraction that says, “Uh, my bad. I was wrong.” But I won’t implode a belief just because someone I respect says the opposite. Truthfully, all “beliefs” should be destroyed, for they are nothing but calcified ways of living in a world that requires flexibility. But I still hold onto a few, like the one that says not everyone in the world is a complete moron—despite not finding any evidence to the contrary.
A quote attributed to Napoleon Hill who was an author who wrote about personal success is: “Whatever the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve.” This quote has also been attributed to best-selling author W. Clement Stone and ripped off by Jesse Jackson who said, “If my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it, I know I can achieve it,” which helped contribute to it becoming the Black Fathers of America’s slogan regarding their children: “We conceive them and be leavin’ them—the black man’s greatest achievement.”
Just like the Law of Attraction, I was pretty certain that one had to be able to “dream” his “desire” before he could attract it, but it seemed Osho was saying that both dreaming and desiring were the tools of the idiot. So I asked.
“It seems to me a principle of the Law of Attraction and manifesting that if you want to achieve something, you first have to dream it. Are you saying this is not the case?”
Osho answered me rapidly and succinctly. “The problem lies in when you continue to focus on your desire and constantly daydream about it. When you do this, you fall out of the present and live in the future and then the dream becomes poisonous. If it is right for your soul’s growth and happiness, the Universe will bring it to you in its proper time.”
He was saying that I could use the Law of Attraction if I wanted, but I shouldn’t allow it to distract me from being in the present moment, which is the most important thing. Most who desire something, like riches or the perfect relationship, are easily pulled into the fantasy of a future filled with luxury, happiness and ease—their own version of the Heaven myth. Osho says that consciousness is the most important thing and this does not have to be “attracted”…but released. Suffering consciously would be much preferred to living the high life unconsciously, that is, if you want to wake up from the dream, the illusion that Hindus call Maya, the mind’s projection onto reality, and see reality as it really is.
And this got me thinking about Slow Duck and me. Ever since she moved back to Peru, I have been spending a lot of my time preparing and sending “surprises” to her in the mail, emailing her, IM-ing her, talking to her on the phone, thinking about being together with her and looking at and even dancing to her framed picture that I keep prominently displayed. Clearly the dream had become poisonous to the present.
The last time I obsessed like this, Jessica Alba had to file a restraining order against me. In my defense, the brick I threw at her window was just an escalation from the pebbles that I was throwing that didn’t seem to be getting her attention. I also didn’t realize that being naked with a bow around one’s penis violated decency laws in California, as this was perfectly acceptable courting dress when I was in Nebraska. Then again, there in Nebraska fucking sheep was also fair game. I won’t even start about the restraining order that Baa-baa-ra the sheep sought against me. In my defense, not being fluent in Sheep-eze, I mistook “Baaa, baaa” to mean, “Yes, yes!” instead of “Get the hell off of me, you sick bastard!”
The challenge I face with Slow Duck is that without a lot of work on both of our parts, 3600 miles will kill any relationship, whether budding or fully flowered. It seems that one has to become a fusion of Osho and Martin Luther King, Jr., to have a dream but then to forget about it while your eyes are open so that you can live fully in the present moment.
I dreamed this morning that I woke up in my bed and Slow Duck was in my arms. I was totally happy lying there spooning my love. She then popped up and told me that she had to go to the bathroom. I was aware that this was a dream and thought, “A dream person doesn’t really have to go to the bathroom.” She kept the bathroom door open and as I opened my eyes to look at her sitting there, she disappeared from the dream. I closed my eyes halfway, desperately trying to keep the dream Duck alive. She reappeared and I was happy but new I couldn’t keep this dream going forever.
Suddenly we were outside and she was leaving in a rush. I barely got to say goodbye to her. From far away I saw some young boys harass her and even push her down. I ran to catch up to her but couldn’t find her. Finally I got to her and asked if she were alright. She said yes and was gone. I realized that she is too far away for me to keep safe and that we are too far away for me to protect the budding flower from the oncoming lawnmower.
And when I woke up, it wasn’t her but my dog resting in a ball in the concave of my spoon.
Dreams are meant to happen when our eyes are closed. Sometimes I wish my dreams would remain when I open my eyes; but they don’t. And life is meant to be lived with your eyes open.
Hah, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been without a love so long that I’ve moved on to dreaming about meeting handsome redheaded male cats. Which makes my furry boyfriend, Thaddeus, jealous, but doesn’t do me any more good than dreaming of humans. Sigh.
Reminds me of a joke I told in my first stand-up comedy attempt back in college:
“I haven’t had sex in so long.”
“HOW LONG?”
“I haven’t had sex in so long that when I masturbate, I don’t think of women—I think of good masturbation sessions I’ve had!”
It was a college competition sponsored by Certs. The winner would be flown to Florida and compete with winners from other colleges and be judged by Seinfeld. I came in 2nd! Many said that I was the funniest but that they thought I might have been too off-color for the judges. I guess the joke about the nun taking a shit on the Pope’s head while in 69 was a bit too much for them. “Sorry, your Eminence, I thought it was only a fart!” Bunch of pussies!