I had a most interesting experience during the night. A first time experience while I slept. My unconscious mind created a space for itself--in fact, pushed straight through piles of other dream vignettes. At one point in the variety of dream sequences I happened upon a person I seemed to have a number of questions for. The answers were not answers--not solutions--I myself would typically think up. So it strikes me that I have within me reasonings and directions and solutions to the very things that plague my waking and sleeping mind resting somewhere on the dusty edge of a step of Freud's unconscious staircase. Although it also strikes me that my unconscious may seem unlike Freud's deepening abyss spiral (the helix of the mind). Rather, it appears layered, yes, but not dark. If it is deep, it is not fear, as fear is deep. So it is not a staircase. It must be then an alternate consciousness. One that is at par with my own level of thinking, as the dream is one that I own, one that I crafted, consciously or not. So that the waking thought and the sleeping thought are one, albeit not aware of each other.
So if the unconscious does not serve the purpose to promote fear--but encourage (highly suggest?) a union of the two consciousnesses, or minds--and the conscious is seeming too hyper-aware of the waking world and the person its waking mind knows, how does one allow the others wisdom to merge with the conscious one? Or is that a dangerous proposition?
I've thought for some time that there are no "stupid" people (on the level of intellect, not free will/choice/poor upbringing or education). Merely thinkers that exist on various plains. If I were to draw a picture of this playing field, it would look like a uniformly coloured dune of sand, the ripples representing the various plains of thought at work. Of course the world expects intellect to wear certain pants and skirts, but I know better.
Now author Richard Bach once wrote about an awfully strange experience he had had repeatedly with his wife, in a book called One. He writes a lot of airplane books, but this was a departure (although he penned a couple of books on the same theme). You'll all remember Bach writing Jonathan Livingston Seagull. He also wrote a book that encouraged me to rethink my world when I was in a desparate search for answers a few years ago, and for that I am forever greatful to him. The book is called "Illusions". I must say while I'm on the topic that Hesse's "Siddhartha" held a parallel experience for me.
Anyway, the experience was that while sleeping he and his wife would both recall (once awake) their dual "flying" during the night, both somehow tied to each other by some invisible string that held them together (Bach is/was a firm believer in soulmates). Now I don't really buy the whole flying thing, but it's interesting that the unconscious mind can discover/uncover a parallel world if it's conscious mind so desires one.
That said, I had been thinking yesterday about some questions to which I had no great (or even simple--which is usually what's most helpful) answers, and to which I had been becoming increasingly bereft. Was my unconscious involvement while I slept a necessary mechanism inserted to alleviate such low physical responses to my low mood of yesterday? Perhaps the body is protecting itself (I have been experiencing increasingly more of the heart murmur these past months). Perhaps there are mechanisms in place that are there all along and can arrive at a moment's notice with no prior knowledge of them.
Or maybe I just got lucky and some greater thing beyond my consciousness--God maybe, sizemic shifts in the earth--was alerted.
I did have a terrifying experience the other day (directly related to my trauma filled childhood--animal abuse is akin to child abuse, and makes me raging mad, and entirely terrified. It's a horrid combination to live and constantly deal with. I end up locking myself away for a couple days after such an encounter). I witnessed two dogs being brutally abused on Ste. Catherine street. I won't even get into the details, it invokes such fear in me, but I did call the police, wait until they arrived, and pointed them in the dog owner's direction. When I walked away I was left feeling empty, scared. Did my interference guarantee that those dogs would be more well taken care of? The police seemed slightly concerned, but I'm sure their mandate is more to care for and protect the human animal. (Must take a minute here and mention two things. When I called 911, the woman on the phone immediately asked me if the abuser was a black man. Wow. After the call, I was advised by the kind restauranteur who's phone I'd borrowed to go to end of street to find cop car quicker. In the car I found there were two men who said I'd best wait for the car that was called. Then one of them winked at me. A very improper action toward someone who was obviously shaken. (I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I was a different looking person--if I'd get taken more seriously), and when the cop car I'd called did arrive it had a woman cop and an asian male cop, who were both very nice actually. Much more compassionate than previous cop car guys. But did they send a woman and a compassionate man for the animal call? Was that intentional?)). What a week I've had. Car insurance cancelled (had to pay it in full. It'll be a miracle if I find rent for July), broken glasses had to get sent to Ottawa (and what horrible service at the eyeglasses store. Another wink from manager guy, maybe to abate my frustration? geez.), car insurance guy asking if I had a boyfriend to pay my bills for me, and horrific animal abuse.
Did I mention I'm trying to write an essay and read two novels for my summer class in all this...
This is turning more into my waking life than my sleeping. The sleeping being the more logical, or reduced in feeling. I wish I could remember more of what was talked about in the dream. It was so helpful. Perhaps that's the point. It was helpful while I slept, and for a little while, alleviated some stress. Which my body and mind absolutely required.
I realize I really should be writing this in a private journal. But I'm none so good at journalling. But I guess that's what I'm doing in a way.
One more thing. Just noticing that the beginning of the post focused on the helpful associations of the unconscious mind, was structured (in a way) and more or less logically straightforward. The remainder seemed to flit between emotion and memory. So this is what happens. It seems the two can not exist together. Logic and feeling not the perfect dancing partners. It's such a shame. For I am absolutely both sides of the coin. Could explain why I am always at odds. What a strange creature the mind is.
Going to make some toast and tea now. Think some more about staircases, and hopefully my essay.