Hello! I hope you are enjoying the crisp, cool weather, the warm nostalgia, and the comfort of good friends and family this holiday season.
The Satyr Plays 2 eBook is out. You can read a description, read a sample, or even purchase the eBook for Kindle for $6.99 right now at the link provided above. Please note that this book is for adults and has a lot of explicit content, even in the sample.
In my opinion, it is not necessary to have read anything else in the Lost Atlantis/Satyr Plays universe to be able to pick up on what's going on in this book (although it will help).
I've scheduled two eBook giveaways: one to celebrate Thanksgiving and one to celebrate Christmas. The eBook will be 100% free to download from Amazon on the following dates:
November 28 & 29 December 25, 26, 27
2024
The sales run from 12 a.m. to 11:59 p.m. Pacific Standard Time.
I recommend clicking "Buy now with 1-Click" instead of "Read for free." "Read for free" is for some kind of subscription service, whereas "Buy now" will allow you to download a more permanent copy to your Kindle. If the price says $0.00, you shouldn't be charged anything.
If you like the book, leaving a review would help me out, but mainly, I just want people to read it! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope it's fun to read.
I received a proof of the paperback in the mail today, and it still needed some work, so I haven't released that yet. (I put extra spaces between the paragraphs that weren't there in the first book, and I wanted them to match. And that led to having to redo the paperback cover.)
I am also in the middle of putting together an audiobook which I narrate myself. I really wish I could do a giveaway or set a lower price for the audiobook, but Audible controls pricing and doesn't do giveaways as far as I can tell. So that's going to be for sale at the regular price. I used better sound equipment for this audiobook, so I think it's going to be an improvement over the first Satyr Plays.
I've been away for a while. I've had some very serious issues that I've needed to go through offline, but I've kept working on my comedy writing. I do anticipate releasing Satyr Plays 2 this month or in December. Satyr Plays is the comedic alternate universe for my Lost Atlantis series.
There will be an eBook giveaway! So please check back later to see updates about that.
I'm currently working on the following formats for Satyr Plays 2: paperback, eBook, and audiobook. All will eventually be made available on Amazon.
I'm in a family restaurant. It's definitely a mid-level establishment. It's not fancy, but it's probably kind of expensive. Maybe a family of four would spend a little over $100 to eat there.
It's got that dark ambiance lighting for night time dining, and a white and mauve-painted clapboard exterior. The paint is too thick, and it looks like it was allowed to drip here and there. It has its own parking lot, and a ramp for wheelchairs.
While I'm here to eat with my family, I can't help but notice a beautiful girl in a pink satin dress. She looks incredibly vulnerable and bewildered. I don't think she's quite aware of where she is or what's going on. But I recognize her--she's rather famous for something on screen. And she's wealthy. But her family has brought her wealth with her into the busy restaurant where anyone could take it. I'm under the impression that they want to show it off. Her family stacks her wealth (her wealth looks like 20lb disc weights that you would put onto a gym barbell) all around the table as they eat their meal.
When they're done with their meal, her family carries her wealth--who knows where. I see some of them taking it to the trunk of their car. I see some of them just carrying it around deeper into the restaurant. I don't think there's any way this girl can keep track of what's going where. There's some built in protection for her, because we're in public and it's her family. Your family generally looks out for you, but that's not a guaranteed relationship.
I'm really worried about what's going to happen to her. She's strong enough to make a bunch of money and do things people appreciate, but too vulnerable to keep any of it. How can someone like that prepare for old age? I really wish someone would protect her.
INTERPRETATION
I have been going through a tremendous amount of stress for the past few weeks, and I've been experiencing a return of some of my bipolar schizoaffective symptoms because of it.
I'm very frightened of hallucinating. I used to be frightened because I actually believed the aggressive hallucinations were real. But now that I can spot them pretty easily for what they are, I'm more scared of how vulnerable I am when I'm in the middle of psychosis, or experiencing either mania or depression. It's very, very easy for me to be taken advantage of in all kinds of ways when I'm ill: financially, sexually, socially--any way you can think of. It's partly why I'd be concerned about moving back to a large city again. There are more desperate, predatory people in a big city, and if you're not on your toes and thinking very carefully at all times, you can get into trouble really fast.
So the pace of life is going really fast for me right now, even though I'm in a small city, and I'm concerned about what could happen. I have to take extra precautions to take care of myself right now--to sleep well, to eat healthily, to take walks, to take breaks, to be sociable, to plan out what I need to do ahead of time so I don't rush. Stuff like that.
Somehow, I wind up in an enormous swimming pool that's as deep as a performing arts center is tall. I'm not 100% certain, but I think I ended up in this pool because I met this random guy on the street, kinda started to like him a little, and he told me to come here. Now he and I and hundreds of other people are enslaved.
I have to dive to the bottom of this pool either with weights, or to bring up weights depending on the assignment. And if anyone tries to escape, a diver launches into the air with a sledge hammer, and they will spin around and around until they come straight down on that person no matter where they go (aside from back underwater, doing what they're supposed to be doing).
Then I kind of half-way wake up and test one of these spinning divers underwater. She swings her sledge hammer at me, but she can't swing it fast enough to really hurt me. I can block it easily. She doesn't represent a threat underwater. I'm surprised at how effortlessly I can hold my breath.
INTERPRETATION
The Olympics have been going on, and this dream definitely seems influenced by them. But I think this dream is kind of how I'll often meet someone I sort of like, and I'll often start to feel like I'm dragged into being their therapist. That's what the imagery of swimming down into the depths is to me. But having to hold my breath and kick with weights--that's work! I'm doing work when I do this, and I'm trapped in the pool.
Someone I was on the fence about told me that I was their therapist. And it felt a little flattering, because I have that training, but have never used it outside of personal relationships and perhaps tangentially to help my coworkers. But when this person said it, it felt icky at the same time, because the relationship between a therapist and a client is completely artificial. It goes one way. You never get to truly know your therapist. They get paid to listen to you. But I'm not getting paid. So what do I get out of a relationship like that?
I've had other people call me their therapist before, and that didn't bother me, because the relationship felt balanced in terms of give and take. But lately, I kind of feel like I'm being leaned upon too heavily for emotional support, and it feels a little like being in this dream.
I'm sitting at a drafting table for drawing, and my subconscious is talking to me. It's a disembodied, god-like voice that says, "We need to do what we can to help her." (By this, the subconscious is referring to waking, conscious me.) The me at the draft board agrees.
"What about this?" asks the disembodied voice.
Then the me at the drawing table gasps as the disembodied subconscious gives her a blurry alien to draw. And she immediately realizes that she'll (I'll) have to learn to think completely differently if she's going to figure out how to draw this effectively.
INTERPRETATION
I was in the middle of drawing a portrait for the first time in perhaps a decade when I had this dream, and there were many points at which I realized that I needed to think of the visual information totally differently in order to create some way to represent it with pencil.
I took art classes in high school, and I remember one section that would talk about creating different textures for things like trees or rocks using different pen strokes, and using different sort of tricks like making the background lighter and less detailed in order to create the impression of distance. These sorts of things seemed important at many points in the creation of my portrait, because simply looking at the reference images wasn't enough to get a good result. I had to draw what I knew, rather than what I saw, and that required thinking differently about the visual information.
I think it's helpful in broadly applicable ways to come up with ways to think of things differently like this.
I'm at a concert of orchestral music. I'm inside what appears to be some kind of irregularly-shaped castle. The walls are made of stone bricks, and it's dark inside with dramatic rays of sunlight highlighting important things like the stage and the audience. But the audience is placed in irregular clumps all around the orchestra pit based on the strange angles of the walls.
As the music plays, I go to my seat, which is at the very top of an extremely, extremely tall, narrow tower that only barely has enough space for me to climb up a rickety bamboo and rope ladder, which buckles, creaks, and sways with every step up.
I get to the "bird's nest" where the seats are, and it's full. There are dozens of people in it, listening to the music. But I can still see over the edge, and it looks like a bottomless pit down there.
I feel terrified, but I also know that it's a real privilege to be at this concert, so I suck it up and have a seat. I know I'll feel better once I sit down.
Then the concert is over, and I see dozens of cats all over the castle jumping up on the stairs and other stones like little mountain goats. They love it.
Someone starts playing choir music on a CD player that I find kind of creepy. I put on some other music that's more neutral. It's about tomatoes. I like it a lot better. It's not cheerful, but it's not grandiosely gloomy either. I don't know why more people don't like the tomato music. I feel as though it doesn't go one way or the other enough to be popular.
INTERPRETATION
Do you ever feel as though life is a beautiful nightmare? That's what I feel when I think of this dream. Life and the situation with the wobbly tower are terrifying. They're confusing. They're unsettling. But it's all very beautiful. And you realize you're lucky to be witnessing it.
With the tomato music, it makes me think of how tomato juice is supposed to neutralize skunk odor. My dad used to listen to this really creepy choir music that made me feel really upset when I was a child, and I would ask him to change it, and he would refuse. That went on for two decades. To me, that grandiosely gloomy choral sound is very similar to his worldview. And as someone who is well-medicated and relatively happy, I think of life as being much more neutral than that. I mean, the cats are having a great time. It's mainly a matter of where your focus is.
I'm watching a rather conservative, religious friend pick out dozens of different sequined outfits, high heels, wigs, makeup, jewelry, and dresses in this fashion warehouse we're visiting. He's really, really excited and serious about starting to do drag. He's even looking on his 2-in-1 laptop for more stuff he can buy online while we're shopping in person.
He packs up all his stuff to do drag, and brings it home...
...and he never uses it. He completely abandons the whole idea of doing drag.
INTERPRETATION
I think this is a problem I have. I'll prepare for a career, and then I won't even get started with it. I think I'm worried that the same thing will happen with what I'm studying for right now. But I feel as though this is going to be the thing that carries me into old age, financially.
I'm going on vacation, and my friends are going to babysit for me. (Well, they'll help me watch my infant at least.)
We go to a train station, and I get on a couple different, short trains. It's a gray, dark, misty day.
Then we go to their house and start playing video games. I find myself to be a character in the game, swinging off of an exploding helicopter.
I come back to my real self and hold my baby.
I start playing video games again.
I put the controller down, and then I hold up the baby over my head. He's grown older. He has a full head of strawberry blond hair. But he's no older than a very young toddler. He asks me, "What is a mind?"
I'm not sure how to answer him. It's hard for me to define it. I just go with something simple, and say, "It's like thoughts."
INTERPRETATION
I didn't really notice this at first, but I've been thinking a lot about the mind and soul lately. I wonder if a human being can have an indestructible essence. I kind of want to think a person can, yet I'm inclined to think a person doesn't. I've had experiences with psychosis, and my entire being is completely different under that amount of stress and paranoia. I no longer felt like me, although I would still have feelings. And real acts of kindness would always be able to poke through the overwhelming fear. But who would be the "me" to live on and on and on? Hopefully not that ill version of me.
They think that either antipsychotic medication or the disease of schizophrenia lowers brain volume over time, and I wonder what that will mean for who I am and my quality of life in my 60s or 70s. I've learned that you can't just expect statistical likelihoods to apply to you, because everyone is impacted differently by disease and medication. So I'm not sure what the future will hold. All I can do is make the most of the functionality I do have right now--which is the same position we're all in, I suppose.
I know people with severe dementia. I'm not sure what their own experience of life is anymore, but all of a sudden, they can't be who they were to me.
What does it even mean to be who you are though? Is the mind something that just encases and channels these drives we have based on our chemical composition? We know that everyone's brain power and speed dwindles with age. It's just a matter of when and to what degree. So at least in that one aspect, you're no longer yourself as you age. I suppose that means you're no longer quite yourself if you learn something new, too, because you've grown new connections in the neurons of your head. But that's not a bad thing. Who are you if you're always changing?
I consider myself a convert to Buddhism, even if I do things I should not still--but some traditions believe you have an essence that survives and perhaps reincarnates. Some Buddhist traditions suggest that it's not important to know or prepare for what happens after you die, because that's not where your focus should be. Your focus should be on how best to live here and now.
I think that's the most sensible position to take, but I like to consider the possibilities too. And I also wonder if there's a way to prepare for mental decline by really making mindfulness and other valued perspectives and principles a subconscious habit. I doubt that would be enough to eliminate the irritability that seems to come with dementia. I've seen very, very sweet people go completely against their usual personalities after dementia hits. But even if it can only be for the here and now, it has to help.
A couple nights ago, I had a dream I keep thinking of.
Sometimes, I'll dream about my Lost Atlantis/Satyr Plays characters. Most of the time, it's not usable material for a real story. For example, I once had a dream that Sandi and Matt went to a movie, and when they came out, there was a giant octopus monster attacking the city. That just doesn't fit in with the universe I made for them in waking life.
But this time, I really wonder if I could use this for a story.
The premise is simple: Shem decides to wear black eyeliner one day. Sandi goes bananas over it. She thinks it's incredible. Matt is uncomfortable about everything related to this. And the dream explores the social implications of this.
Should I turn this into an actual short story? I am writing Satyr Plays 2. I've got the first or second drafts of about thirteen short stories right now. I just need a couple more stories to meet the same word count as the first Satyr Plays.
It's weird to me that if you look at the stats, more people online seem more interested in the dramatic version, whereas the people I meet in real life seem to like my comedy better.
Well, I have no time for either serious or silly creative hobbies, unfortunately. Every day this summer, I've been scrambling to do everything on my to-do list. Being busy often means I'll remember fewer dreams. If I go to sleep and wake up in a leisurely way, I can spend time laying in bed thinking of what I dreamed about, and can form my thoughts well enough to write them down.
Oh well. This dream diary was never really something I planned to do the way you plan and commit to a novel or a hobby. It just started to get interesting for me to explore my dreams and go back later to remember my life. I recommend trying it for yourself.
I'm watching Elon Musk as he does ordinary, everyday things like go to the cheese aisle of the grocery store, or drive to Walmart. Everywhere he goes, while doing everything he does, and even while traveling with a crew, he's afraid of being shot.
INTERPRETATION
I think this is a projection of my own fear as I go about my life doing everyday kinds of things. But I think the dream also points out that no one, no matter how rich, is safe if there are neglected corners of the world in which people are suffering. We live in an interconnected universe.
Then again, Elon Musk certainly doesn't put himself in danger by driving himself to the grocery store to buy cheese. Or if he does, I'm shocked that he doesn't value his time more. I can get groceries shipped straight to my home.
I show up one night at a huge, home-like building lit with incandescent bulbs to meet with a friend. He's found the people he wants to dedicate at least the next several years of his life to: they're right here in this building all around us. I find him at one end of the building, and he greets me enthusiastically. He looks so happy to be here.
We walk through the building, and he seems so passionate about the place. I meet with another friend, and we go off together to explore the place. There are cafes, stores, booths that sell crafts, and places to sit and talk. There's art on the walls. All around us, people are having interesting conversations--mostly philosophical in nature. Some of these conversations contain controversial content. But although it's uncomfortable sometimes, it's also fresh and on the cutting-edge of modern thought.
A girl with pink hair comes up to me and my friends and seems like she's going to get in my face about something that really doesn't have much to do with her, and I'm intimidated, but she doesn't end up doing much but flash her attitude.
INTERPRETATION
I discussed this dream with the friend in it, and he helped me realize that this dream is probably about the motorcycle violence inflicted on my car not too long ago. Because of that incident, I've been really considering just how badly I want to leave the house to get a cup of coffee. I associate all this hippie stuff like what was in the building in the dream when I think of my coffee shop habit. There's a little bit of danger when I decide to go out to this kind of place (the girl getting in my face in the dream and the motorcyclist in real life).
Although it's tempting, I cannot allow myself to live in fear of leaving my house. Although there are always risks, it's not a war zone where I live--thankfully. A lot of the world is an actual war zone right now, which is tragic, and I'm very sorry it's happening. But I, personally, have a lot of freedom right now, and a pretty reasonable amount of safety, and it would be very sad not to appreciate and exercise that freedom while it's available. Because unfortunately, it's not available to everyone, and it's not guaranteed.
I go to work at a restaurant, and I'm very, very interested in the customers' opinions about things, even though it gets busy. I duck my head into the kitchen and when I come out, the dining area is exploding with customers.
Then, I'm taking a class in which I have to bake cookies. I start off assembling some perfect lavender cookies for the morning round. But I have a second, later round to assemble too. I go through the pantry to see what kind of ingredients I have for a different type of cookie. I take out some things and start to think that I might be able to do some kind of "Western" themed cookie, but then I realize that I'm missing some ingredients, and the chocolate chips I have aren't enough.
But I'm dreading leaving the house. I'm torn between really wanting to please the class, and wanting to say at home.
INTERPRETATION
I think the restaurant part of the dream is about how I went to a comedy show the other day, and I was really, really interested in observing the audience's reactions to the comedians. Something about it was fascinating, and wild, and unpredictable to me. I never knew quite how they would respond, and I really wanted to know how they felt and what they were thinking.
Then, I think the second part of the dream with the cookies is about how I'm struggling to muster up the strength and courage to leave my house lately. Because not long ago, I was leaving a coffee shop parking lot area, and I took a turn onto a street. This pair of speeding motorcycles came up behind me, and were angry because they thought I was too slow to accelerate from my turn. So after honking a bunch, they drove up beside me, and one of them started smashing his fist into the front of my car while we were driving. I laid on the horn until he stopped and sped away with his friend.
I called the police, and I think if they really, truly wanted to catch these guys, they might be able to, because I believe there are cameras on all the main street intersections, but I just don't think they have the time and resources to spend on an event in which there was no physical harm (aside from a few, shallow dents in my old car).
But this event has left me frazzled. I'm getting back into meditating because of it, which, I suppose, is turning lemons into lemonade.
First, I dream about Star Trek TOS. And it's all very clear and orderly, and the storyline is linear and makes sense. We're in the later renditions of the uniforms (from the movies). It's the perfect kind of dream to write about.
Then I fall asleep and forget all about it.
Then I dream about going through Costco to give a young boy practice with getting someone to get a goldfish out of a fish tank. The young boy develops a crush on me at some point during my Costco meanderings, and expresses it in annoyingly immature ways.
But by the time I get serious about getting the little boy his goldfish, the father and everyone else is critical of how I felt that my mind was on other things that I needed to explore before getting the goldfish.
A man stands beside the goldfish pool. The goldfish he's gotten out for me is the size of a grizzly bear. It takes two people to move it out of a tub when I reject it for the smaller black moor goldfish.
INTERPRETATION
I think the criticism of the father and the rest of the crew about my Costco meanderings is how critical I am of myself for getting distracted by other things while studying. I often wish I could just order myself to sit and study for a couple hours without the interventions of videos, and coffee, but I generally can't. I need a lot of breaks.
I've started using the Pomodoro Technique to tackle a book I have to read and write about in a couple days, and that's actually been working surprisingly well with my meandering mind. But I do take bigger breaks than just 5 minutes. Switching tasks altogether tends to be more refreshing than just taking a 5 minute phone break.
I'm watching a guy talk to someone on his cell phone. He's talking to some unknown guy who is in the process of invading his apartment. He has no idea who this person is, but the invader just seems to be messing with his gaming system. The guy I'm watching is very busy, so he just wants this guy to get out of his apartment.
The invader sounds like he might be kind of high. He's rambling in a very casual, laid-back manner, and has some good points about the game (philosophically-speaking).
The guy I'm watching gets home, and says, "I'm shutting my eyes. I don't want to know who you are--just go."
But the invader insists on making himself known. He doesn't leave, and continues rambling. "Oh yeah-most importantly, you reminded me of this guy!" He refers to a Groot-like animated character on a winter background. He's holding up the picture.
Of course, the apartment owner opens his eyes. It's a friend of his. He tries to ease the discomfort between them. I don't think he thought that what his friend did was cool, but he's not going to get bent out of shape about it.
But then I see the movie he's making. He's rehearsing with a funny, female friend of his. It's a drama. I really like what the girl is doing. I can peer into her acting process. But his character gets shot on March 2nd, and I can't help but feel that the creepy invading friend is going to make something dramatic happen that day. The guy feels it too. He's worried.
INTERPRETATION
Relationships are complicated. Even friendships are complicated. Your friends are probably going to do some things you don't approve of. And I think what's most scary about this is how you realize your ability to predict the future is clearly off. You had faith that this person was going to act in a certain way that doesn't offend your sensibilities, and they surprise you. Now you have to consider how what they're doing is going to affect your life and your limited time and resources, not just now, but in the future. But they could always surprise you again by changing. And there's always a chance that you're learning the wrong lessons when a person reveals themselves to you.
I think this dream is just anxiety about that sort of thing.
I'm taking a tour of a meat factory. Marilyn vos Savant is being overworked in this factory. She's indulging the tour, but she seems really stressed when she describes to the tour guide how she's working to increase the pig factory's efficiency. She doesn't stay for long.
Then I enter a beautiful, pink room with a pond and path of concrete circles going through the water that mimics giant water lilies. There are large plants in the background. They bring out one of the pigs and take it through the pond. It's the pig is small, and cute, and to my surprise, it spreads, large, beautiful, feathery wings. I realize with a sinking feeling in my stomach that the factory must tear off and destroy those beautiful wings when they kill the pigs for food. I hate to think of the sparkle going out of the curious little pig's eyes. What a waste of life.
INTERPRETATION
This dream is about my capitalism anxiety.
Marilyn vos Savant is a lady in her 70s who used to have the highest recorded IQ score of anyone in history. (They changed the tests, according to ChatGPT, so now her record isn't "being maintained.") In the dream, she was miserable working in a meat factory. This to me, is what we're doing: we're taking our brightest people and having them work 60 hour weeks to do stuff like sell bacon a little bit better than someone else instead of giving them meaningful, satisfying things to do in a balanced, sustainable fashion.
What's more, we're systematically destroying beautiful, innocent animals who were meant to live in the forest and fly--just so we can eat them. So the overall goal is highly questionable.
Also, pigs can fly, which is a euphemism for miracles, but that's not what we choose to make happen in this artificially-created nightmare world.
I've gone on several summer trips to Iceland with my best friend--not mainly to see my parents, but my parents do have a house here. I'm sure my parents' house is horribly cluttered and neglected. They don't really want me hanging out there, and I don't want to be there either. So I always just pass by its exterior. It's gray-green on a grassy hill with some other houses.
But then one day, I look up their house on Google Maps and look inside. It's beautiful. It's clean. It's well-decorated. It almost looks like they hired an interior decorator. I can't believe it.
The next summer though, all of Iceland is completely flooded. I swim to my parents' house. It's underwater. There's a little stoat or a weasel swimming in the flooded grass with me and my best friend. I guess my parents' house is done for.
INTERPRETATION
I think many people's parents change when they move out of their house. To me, it seemed like my parents were happier, and they weren't hurting anybody (me), so in my mind, they took on a cute, harmless old couple quality that they didn't have before.
But that time has passed for them (the house got flooded) since my father has passed away.
The next day, I was supposed to wake up early, but I had a series of dreams that attempted to persuade me to stay in bed. There's something a little creepy about your own sleep trying to lure you into staying with it when it's in your best interest to leave.
I watch this freshman college kid give an older woman dictation. He rattles things off quickly, just assuming that she's going to record all of his long, extremely detailed notes for him. She does take some notes, but they're pretty much her own, and at times, she crosses her arms and doesn't do anything. He doesn't notice. He just keeps talking.
At first, she thinks his arrogance has made him dumb, despite how smart his notes are. Because he's not paying attention to what's going on with her. But when he finishes, the notes the woman took turn into a beautiful stack of strawberry-filled pancakes with whipped cream. The gaps she left in the notes turned into areas where strawberries are.
Did he plan this? Because he's not at all surprised, while she's shocked.
INTERPRETATION
I think my insecurities about being too dumb to accomplish anything are rising to the surface.
I transferred to a local STEM school after I recovered from my first major schizophrenic episode, and I met the kid in this dream there.
He was the lab assistant. I went up to him with a question about the directions, and he angrily looked up from doing his own homework and said, "I can't read the lab for you--you have to read it yourself!"
I was very angry, but I realized almost immediately (and I don't know what tipped me off) that this was probably a gifted kid with overexcitabilities and social problems, which I am not used to dealing with except with my dad. I am used to gifted kids being really nice, but I know that "profoundly" gifted kids are rumored to struggle to fit in.
Later in the semester, I was still pissed off about this incident, and I was in a professor's office in which this kid was a student. The professor just happened to have some of this kid's work on his desk. I looked over and was like, "He better be really fucking gifted. It would be so easy to get him in trouble for that lab thing."
Perfect scores on a hard quiz. I was like, "Shit, I was right. I can't get this dumb smart kid in trouble for being angry and confused about why he's surrounded by idiots. It's like a disability."
Unfortunately, my brain doesn't really process STEM subjects well. Whereas some people work perfectly well with the gaps in knowledge that textbooks leave (turning into strawberries in the dream) those gaps just inspire dozens and dozens of questions for me, and I often cannot move forward until I answer those questions for myself. I sometimes get unpredictable, out of control moments of insight (whipped cream), but again, I feel as though some people just really work well with these kind of issues. They're not a problem for them, and everything turns out well. It's a surprise for me, but not to them. (The stack of pancakes materializing out of the notes.)
I'm about to take a large STEM exam, so maybe that's why I'm revisiting this experience with this annoying gifted kid who wasn't being helpful with someone slower.
I haven't really been having dreams that would be interesting to share, lately, but I watched a Theo Von podcast with author Robert Greene today, and they talked about spiritual experiences with drugs. That got me thinking about a dream-like state I was in while under general anesthesia for a surgery a couple years ago. I would describe it as a spiritual experience.
A nurse gave me a little cloth pouch with pink roses for my glasses after they wheeled me to the operating area. (I had forgotten to leave the glasses in my room.) I was having my period, and was nervous about this, but they assured me that it was okay.
I drifted off to sleep and was transported to a world in which I revisited all the major people who had harmed me in life up to that point. I saw what was going on in their lives at the time, and I forgave them, one by one as I observed. I even felt a kind of platonic love for each of them, as fellow beings in this world.
By the time I woke up, I had to have gone through dozens, and dozens, and dozens of people who I had been really upset at. I definitely felt as though I had left some kind of eternal afterlife and come back to the regular world.
I wonder if this advanced state of understanding is what death will be like, or if the drugs I took just make some people feel extra generous towards others. But I described what happened to the healthcare workers, and they didn't make it seem like this is a common experience under this drug.
I have a really fortunate, blessed life in many ways. I'm pretty happy, even if things aren't perfect. But not everyone in my life is doing well, and it really saddens me. More than anything, I guess it makes me feel helpless.
My friend's story really isn't mine to tell, but I do think it's okay for me to talk about a dream I had about him. After all, my dreams are my life.
DREAM
The Earth is about to be annihilated by asteroids showering down on it uncontrollably. We all need to get into rockets to leave the Earth--to go and try something new and different and alien (and very difficult, probably).
My house is a rocket. It's about to lift off along with everyone else.
I look out my window, and I see my friend arguing viciously with one of his family members. The family member seems to want him to just stay on the Earth, even though he'll die.
Time is running out. The ground is shaking. Burning rocks fall from the sky.
At the last possible moment, I see my friend leave the argument in frustration, get into his car, and drive like hell to what I know must be one of the nearby, publicly available rockets anyone can get into. I know he'll most likely be safe, and I'll see him when we get to the next stage of our lives.
INTERPRETATION
This dream gave me a lot of peace, because I believe it's my intuition telling me that my friend has the will to fight to live. That was really worrying me the night before. A mutual friend of ours also had a dream about the situation, but it was less optimistic.
I just hope my intuition is right.
You can never blame yourself for someone's deciding to end their life, but I think it's important to remember the members of your community who are suffering, and be there if you can.
I made a short video about my artistic process when writing Satyr Plays. It's on YouTube for now. (I keep changing my mind about the value in posting on social media.)
I'm in a clean room painted a minty, robin's egg blue and decorated with flowers and Easter wreaths. I'm laying on a plain bed like you'd expect to use when getting a massage, but this bed has a bed sheet over it, and it's pressed up beside a window to a sunny, green yard.
I'm feeling very relaxed, like I'm on a vacation seeing friends.
Jordan Peterson's wife enters the room with a pair of pliers. I open my mouth and she proceeds to yank out one of my back teeth.
"Oh!" she says as she snaps backwards with the tooth. She seems really surprised at how that went.
Unlike one might expect, my mouth doesn't hurt--it feels better.
"My tooth doesn't hurt anymore," I say. There's the start of a second tooth growing in the space left. But I look in the mirror and I'm disappointed that I had to sacrifice some of my attractiveness to relieve the pain. I accept it though. I think this was the best decision I could make at this time.
INTERPRETATION
I bought Dream Dictionary for Dummies, and it really is a mixed bag of helpfulness. I think ChatGPT tends to have better responses for what dream symbols might mean. It says this: losing teeth could symbolize anxiety about how others perceive you. I think my concern as I looked in the mirror "reflects" this.
Personally, I have always read in dream dictionaries that teeth symbolize knowledge or wisdom. And the loosening of teeth means that you have to drop old concepts you've held on to and make room for new ones.
I think this dream symbolizes changing ways of thinking, and some anxiety I'm having about being drawn more and more into the world of comedy. Jordan Peterson is a pretty controversial public figure, and I think his wife symbolizes the subversive and controversial nature of comedy in this dream.
Stuff like hard science and STEM doesn't attract that much controversy, because it weeds out people without expertise, and its key topics are not social or emotional. But comedy is entirely about opinions and emotions, and the topics have to be pre-digested well enough for the majority of a general audience to get it within fractions of a second. That social/emotional concentration scares me, even though I love to find the humor in various things. It's one of the things that gives me the most joy.
To me, comedy is really appealing these days because it's where so much of the authenticity in American society is located right now. But there are and have always been controlling, authoritarian personalities in our world who can't emotionally manage the discomfort they feel when people don't think the way they do. I'm an agreeable person and don't like to see people suffer, even if their reasons for their own suffering are stupid and self-created. But as much as I crave the safety of completely avoiding emotional or social topics, I also crave intimacy.
I think the fact that I feel better when the old tooth is removed is me feeling good about letting this new little wisdom tooth grow underneath the old tooth--the old wisdom that tries harder to play it safe. And I think that I'm worried that other people's perception of me will suffer now that I'm different (now that I have a gap in my smile).
But removing the old tooth (heading in this direction) still feels like the right thing to do, even if this isn't a perfect situation.
I'm an explorer in a large submarine. All of a sudden, the submarine starts to shake and flip upside down and side to side, and we're crashing. One of us has locked the others in a room. We watch in horror as he paces up and down the viewing window, cackling. He explains his evil plan, showing us how he's put some strange chemicals in the tubing we use for air. The tubes are filled with a magenta-colored substance.
Then we're at the surface. It's calm. All of that stuff with the evil scientist is behind us, and we're inspecting the tubes he left behind for us. I hesitantly reach into one tube. I pull out seaweed. It's just algae and kelp in the tube. Maybe we'll be okay.
Now, I'm in a lab with a lot of sophisticated machinery. I check the results of a test. A yellow, gum-like substance is in my magenta, gloved hand.
It's radioactive.
I leave the lab to discuss this with the two men who have been waiting for me at a dining room table. In the dream, it only just dawns on me that this person whose point of view I've had is actually me--I am the scientist. I connect to that identity in thought and emotion.
One man wears a broad smile that spreads deep crow's feet on his boyish face. He's in a brown polo shirt, and he's happy.
The other man seems calm. He's probably in his 50s, with dark hair, a large nose, sun spots, and a kind face. He's dressed like an environmental scientist coming back from the field.
I tell the environmental scientist, "It's radioactive."
His friend, who was chatty only a moment ago, becomes quiet, and sombre.
We all know the implications: this stuff has been in his body. He's in trouble.
He takes it gracefully, but might simply be in denial. He thanks me, and I know he knows this is very bad news, but he avoids the topic and continues to talk about work.
Then, I'm telling my professor that I don't want to do any of the things my boyfriend wants to do. And I'm watching a reality TV show--or at least I think it is. Emilia Clarke is sitting outside in a grass-filled garden eating little tea party confectionary treats that are tinted a pastel blue. She's there for some kind of rehabilitation, and she narrates her inner experiences of suffering and pain over the camera shots. The cameras follow her as she goes out into the city, but everything warps, and bends, and twists. I find it a strange thing to do to have such hard-core special effects on a reality TV show. What are they trying to say by including this?
The camera cuts to an Emo young man wearing braces, who holds out a large rubber band with crystal letters on it. Most of the letters are nonsense, but there is a word there that I can't remember. He talks very conspiratorially with the other cast members about how difficult Emilia was at the start of the show.
INTERPRETATION
I think this dream is about my recovery from fleeing my hometown over 10 years ago.
My thoughts about the nature of evil have changed a lot over the years. When I was 22, I had a part in a play where I played a woman who betrayed her cheating husband to the enemy, who then blinded him, and he killed himself. I played her as though she knew exactly how evil what she was doing was, and she didn't care.
I had a heckler in the audience (yes, a heckler for a university play), who shouted out in the middle of my monologue, "Evil!"
Of course. It seemed obvious to me that handing over your husband to a warring people to be murdered, no matter what he'd done, was evil. The character had to know it was evil.
How naive I was about the nature of evil! In reality, I've found that almost all evil is unselfaware. It's usually justified into something righteous by its perpetrators, and they often don't just think they're good people, they think they're better people. And it works because you can kind of justify anything if you don't bother to develop your sense of ethics and let your emotions decide.
That night after the play, the director instructed me to figure out a way to make the character not evil, and it seemed impossible then. She left town the next day, pretty much, so I didn't have to try. But I'm shaking my head now. I think I know exactly how to make the character justify basically killing her husband: just feel victimized so strongly, and have such a powerful belief in your own heroism that you get into delusional territory. People will even feel sorry for you. They must've written her with the thought that she wasn't evil in mind, too, otherwise the directors (who wrote the play) wouldn't be asking me to play her as not evil!
There is a very distinctive feeling that I get about evil being "after" me, like when a Karen complains about me at my minimum wage job, or when my evil ex-roommate goes around the school spreading rumors about me, or when a teacher decides that they're going to use their power to harm me (or someone else--I've been savvy enough to dodge that bullet a couple times, often watching or hearing about it hitting another student). I think this is the same feeling I got when that scientist was cackling through the window about how he'd ruined our air.
Then I think about the guy in the dream who got the news about radioactive substances being in his body. It surprises me when people just have no reaction to horrible things sometimes. I would actually say that it happens a lot. With the evil ex-roommate, I was certainly not the first victim. She ran around harming lots of people. You know what they typically did afterwards? Absolutely nothing. They'd usually do something kind of small and shitty that they were ashamed about, and that usually silenced them from speaking out against her. But it's just not in everyone's nature to cause a bunch of drama when things go wrong in their life.
I noticed that calm people were my colleagues in the dream. Maybe that's because it's so much easier for me to genuinely love non-dramatic people, even though I typically get sucked in by the dramatic ones. I think it's common for our attention to go to the least deserving areas of our lives.
And I think Emilia Clarke in the reality TV show is me writing my way to some kind of healing after pretty much fleeing my hometown and all the awful people I got involved with. (For people in other countries who might not know: reality TV has no relationship to the very, very old tradition in English literature for writing autobiographical material. I think it might not be common in every country for people to write extensively about the unique details of their personal and family lives. But in America, we're doing it pretty much straight from day one in kindergarten, and a lot of our most revered authors do it until they die. Maybe it's part of being in an individualistic culture. I don't know. I'm not well-versed in the literature or educational systems of other countries, so I could be wrong about other countries working really different from ours in these areas.)
I think this is a topic that's been on my mind, because I'm reading a book called How to FAIL at Stand-Up Comedy: Avoiding the Pitfalls that Kill a Comic's Career, and I am stunned to see just how many people in this author's career have started very serious drama. As one example, the author said he's been assaulted either on stage or in the parking lots of his shows twelve times. All the behind-the-scenes drama totally reminds me of the social atmosphere I had to deal with in college in my hometown.
I guess it just surprises me that people can be so different. It's easy to make the mistake of thinking all people will react to things the same way you would. I'd say it's almost a mistake to try to predict what people will say or think or do at all. No one is truly an expert on that, no matter how much they charge for their services. It's going to be anecdotal, or statistical at best.
I also watched this video yesterday that got me thinking about the differences between people:
I take out two half-finished outlines of drawings I started. They're of a young Asian man with a trendy hair cut. I line it up on my desk under a desk lamp and get back to work. He's the character for a new story I've been thinking up.
When I think of who I want this character to be and how I want the other characters to react to him, I think of someone who I was in love with as a teen.
I don't have to think too far back, because I'm staying in a house with him right now! His family and some other people who were/are important in that social circle are all there too. It's thrilling.
But when I come out of the house into my nearby art studio, it feels like recalling a distant memory, even though I'm recalling memories from a day or two ago at most.
I try to remember my emotions and thoughts about this person: the flutters, the single-minded focus, the high of actually talking to him and spending time near him.
I feel very nostalgic as I draw my imaginary universe.
INTERPRETATION
When I write, and the characters are experiencing loving relationships or interactions, I almost always draw on the friendships and experiences I had in high school. I just had really, really good friends back then. It all faded away as we left for college, or the military, or something else, one by one. But it was a really nice time of life. Living with my parents was awful, but I just spent as much time as possible outside of the house.
Having those friends taught me what it is to be a loving person in a community. I'm sure I never would have known without their influence in my life, and I'm very thankful for those experiences.
I really think that people underestimate their influence--either for good or evil. All it took was the good people around me being themselves and including me in their lives to completely transform me, and it concerns me a little that it was such a freak accident. Because everyone should have the kind of love and sense of community I had--at least for a part of their lives. Love really makes a massive difference in who someone develops into.
We usually think of destructive acts as having a lasting effect. And it sometimes seems as though it's so easy to tear down people's growth and creativity that it discourages us to act on those positive impulses to do things like reach out and say something kind and thoughtful, or to just ask how someone is doing and to listen carefully to their answer and not be afraid of their truth. Why bother? But love has a lasting effect too--something I didn't expect when it became clear that our time in high school was over.
But after the pain of that separation left, this sense of fullness and love from that time has been something I've noticed in my heart 20 years later.
I'm in an apartment waiting for my best friend and his husband to return to our place. It's a special day for me--it's my wedding day! They're supposed to help me celebrate!
They come back to the apartment with a pet rat in a Tupperware container. I find that to be a bit odd, but whatever. It's pretty cute. I just didn't expect them to buy a new pet while they were out.
Then I start dancing. There's no groom. I'm celebrating being married by myself today.
INTERPRETATION
I think I've gotten very, very used to being single over the years. I definitely prefer being single to having to deal with anyone I've ever dated except one guy. Not worth it!
I think I'm done. I may have married myself.
Originally, I wrote a little rant about what I think about the people who I've dated in the past, and as you might guess, I wasn't talking about how great most of them were. That got me thinking about how some Buddhist writers are really against blaming others for our own misfortunes. I decided to consult ChatGPT about that, because weirdly enough, the chat bot is quite good at giving spiritual advice.
It just didn't make sense to me that if you know why something shitty happened, you should avoid assigning responsibility to a specific person. If you're the manager of a company, you should definitely restrict, retrain, or fire someone who makes a very big mistake. So why should you make an exception for your spiritual life?
First of all, I think blame has a different connotation than simply assigning responsibility in these texts. Blame suggests anger. And people have their reasons for why they do things--often understandable reasons, if you were to dig deeper, even with the business analogy. Maybe instead of just blaming the employee, you need to change the system they're working in.
But I think the most significant reason to avoid blaming others for your personal misfortunes is the idea that you are responsible for your own part in every interaction. And this is actually quite liberating, because it means you always have some little bit of control.
I think Buddhist writers suggest avoiding blaming others because of karma--the idea that your future will inherit the circumstances you create in the present. You always have some hand in creating those circumstances.
In terms of dating, in the past, I think I've done things to attract and retain bad people in my life. The main thing I've done is to tolerate. I think that all you have to do, really, is tolerate toxic behavior, and toxic people will end up playing a prominent role in your life. And I've reacted badly to those bad people when my reactions are within my control, making things worse. And I haven't always taken action to find better people to replace the toxic ones. So now I'm single, and I don't have a wide circle of influence.
But it's actually a really good thing. I've learned that it's far, far better going it alone than being with someone who drags you down--which, for me, has been a lot of people, if not most of them. So I'm quite happy and content with "marrying alone." And I really treasure the good people in my life, like my friend and his husband, because they're so very rare and precious.
I'm looking at an elderly relative of a neighborhood friend I had while growing up. She's in the garden of my back yard. She berates my friend, saying, "I just wish you'd done that role!"
My neighborhood friend's face appears on a light blue screen. She's quite elderly now too. Her hair is gray, and she has many sags and wrinkles in her face. And she wears a scarf. But she seems so hurt and motivated by her elderly relative's disappointment in her.
She gives an incredible performance of a role that she was supposed to do as a young woman. There's so much passion in her face and voice. Every line is delivered so far and above what one would expect from the writing. It elevates the script to something it probably wasn't before.
But as beautiful as this is, it's also tragic to watch, because you know this performance which has been refined almost to perfection is decades too late. The audition for the role in the film is long gone.
INTERPRETATION
I seem to be developing a dream theme of: "I missed my opportunity, and it will never come again." I say this because this is the theme of the ballerina and Louis C.K. dreams I just had too.
By the way, although $100 is too much for me to spend on something that isn't directly tied to my survival right now, I did spend $5 to watch the show, and it's incredible. It's so funny. I am laughing out loud frequently and consistently throughout the whole thing, which is very unusual to do at all. You especially notice how unusual it is to laugh out loud in front of a screen when you realize how much scrolling you do, how many really solid jokes you pass, and how silent you are the whole time.
I think I might be developing this theme because I've been taking so many tests for the past several months. You only get one chance to get every answer correct before time is up.
But I think that in this dream, I'm mixing that test-taking idea with the idea that life only happens once. And it's so easy to passively watch life pass by without risking anything personal. I guess I worry that I'll regret not pushing myself harder, creatively-speaking.
I'm supposed to meet my best friend and his husband at this large mall, but I only see the husband. I touch base with him, and then I go to change my clothes in the bathroom.
I'm mid-change in a very, very short bathroom stall where you can see everything, when a small, young Asian woman walks in holding a resume. She seems really discouraged and says, "I can't believe the positions that require a professional degree these days!"
As she talks a little more, I'm directly under the impression that she applied for the job I trained for with my master's degree.
I say, "You know, I got a master's degree in that field, and it's really easy to earn." (I edited this dialogue to conceal the name of the program.)
She seems to think things over, and leaves me to do my thing.
Unfortunately, I turn around, and I'm completely confused about where my clothes went. My brown skirt with little brown lace accents is still hanging there on a hook, but the top seems to be missing. It takes about 10 minutes for me to figure out that my top is there--it's just not the top I remembered bringing. It's tie dyed neon yellow and pink.
I get changed, and hang out with the husband while we wait for my friend. He eventually arrives, and we go to the main event: meeting Louis C.K.
We aren't just meeting him--we are having a private, one-on-one dinner with the famous comedian! I sit at the table with him, and he is so personable and affable. And I just go completely blank. I desperately want to say something that will make me useful or helpful to the man--something he would like me for, or remember me for, but nothing comes to mind no matter how much I scramble for conversational material.
There's a newspaper on the table advertising other acts in the area, and one of them mentions Batman and a dog. Didn't Louis C.K. do a comedic bit with Batman? He did, and it was one of my favorites! Can't I think of something to say about that?!
I just watch, helplessly, as Louis C.K. smiles and talks like a normal, friendly human being to my friend and his husband. I have nothing to say and I'm almost starting to panic about not taking this opportunity to describe how much his work impacted me and how much I adore him. He gets up and leaves the table for a moment, and it's just a sad preview of the future when he'll leave for good and I'll have missed my opportunity.
INTERPRETATION
The thing I take away the most from this dream is how I really wanted to buy an autographed poster from Louis C.K.'s website. It (is still) only $100 (you can see the deal here), but I felt as though it would be irresponsible for me to spend grocery money on something I really don't have the space to frame and hang up anyway. But it feels like a missed opportunity to support one of my favorite celebrities and get something really cool in return.
Also, my master's degree still feels kind of senseless. I don't see why organizations will often require these super expensive degrees. It seems unnecessary to me, and I regret my life choices sometimes (often).
Happy St. Patrick's Day (or, more likely for you, a day or so after St. Patrick's Day)!
I wish I'd planned a little better for this holiday! I would have found a good recipe online and gone to the store and bought some corned beef and cabbage. Instead, I just played around with some St. Patrick's Day prompts on Midjourney.
DREAM
I go into an old, independently-owned music shop. One of my favorite people in the world is there. He shows me something he's been working on: a stringed instrument that has little purple "socks" over the strings. He plays it for me. He pulls the socks down at different times, and the instrument makes different noises. I'm surprised! That's pretty cool. He is very original.
I look around a little more and something really catches my eye: paintings done with a red-orange paint that almost seems to glow on the page. I would really like to experiment with that color, that texture, that material myself. I make a mental note to look for it at the crafts store next time I'm there.
But I have to leave because I have a presentation to do. I'm going to offer a presentation in front of a large group of people about one of my favorite characters: Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager. I'm a little embarrassed, because I'm not sure who else will like this character, but I'm also feeling great about being able to share what I know just because I'm passionate on the topic. And that turns my nervousness into excitement and some degree of confidence. I go into the large, futuristic, Cathedral-like room and make my way to the front with my notes.
INTERPRETATION
I think that ever since I left California, I get these occasional urges to experiment with artistic materials I find really beautiful or interesting. I think I used to be much more excited about the concepts in my artwork than playing with physical, sensory materials. Now, especially with the advent of AI art, I think it's more important that it feels good to make your art instead of making it look incredible.
The person in the music shop is one of my favorite people in real life too. It's very uncommon for me to meet someone and almost instantly have this great, amazing feeling about them, but I think I felt that way about him within 30 minutes of being in his presence. And I haven't felt conflicted about adoring him in the many years I've known him now--also very unusual for me.
I also think I'm getting a little less embarrassed about sharing the work I do, which is a great feeling. But in real life, it's more like taking little baby steps rather than confidently striding down a great hall with notes in hand.
I goofed! I did not download my own books for Kindle when I was doing free Kindle giveaways. So I need to run giveaways to pick them up now.
The first and second dream diary collections are going to be free to download this Saturday and Sunday (March 16-17) from midnight to midnight, Pacific Time.
These two books are just collections of blog posts like this one, so if you like reading my dream blog posts, you might like these "archived" posts!
After over a month of work, I am excited to present to you: Satyr Plays -- the audiobook!
This audiobook is 3.5 hours long, narrated by me, and is currently available on Amazon's Audible app/website for $14.95 USD (Audible sets the price).
I've been told that hearing me read adds something to my writing, so even if the book doesn't appeal to you, you can listen to the audiobook sample to see if a performance might interest you more than words on a page.
Just a warning: I thought I was done with tragedy until I played back my British accent. You've got to cut me a break on that--it's either me doing a really strange RP/Scouse/American accent mix, or nobody.
I enter a large university, and see a friend from a job I had a long, long time ago at the front desk. My tongue swells to the point that I'm constantly chewing the sides of it. I try to stop, but I can't.
My friend is overflowing with excitement and enthusiasm, and she convinces me to take ballet, because I've always wanted to. She says I won't live forever.
She drives me to class in an open jeep as the building is falling apart around us in huge, concrete chunks. The sky is space, and I see a large projection of a glittering, pink ballerina floating in front of me.
I really get the sense that life is short, and I am glad I'm living it to the fullest while I can.
INTERPRETATION
There's a part of this dream that's straight-forward, and a part that I'm not so sure about.
I've wanted to take adult ballet classes for many years now, but I'm intimidated because of my weight and age. After this dream, I'm starting to wonder if I'm really going to regret not doing it!
I think the crumbling building symbolizes how we're coming a little bit closer to death every day.
But the swollen tongue I kept chewing on is strange. I woke up and did not have a problem with my tongue. Once we rule out a literal, physical problem intruding on the dream, I think the interpretation that leaps to mind first is that words are being held back. But in the dream, I didn't feel an urgency about saying anything.
Maybe the tongue is more a symbol of a health scare, and doing what you can in spite of failing health. That fits in better with the themes of life being short, and the crumbling building.
For me, one of the strange things about getting older and realizing that some of my parts are starting to wear down is the increased sense of peace and gratitude I feel, generally-speaking. Maybe it's because I've learned to manage my mind and body better with time. Maybe it's because I have the comfort of stable relationships I can rely on. Maybe it's because I have enough statistical information to realize things usually work out fine. Or maybe it's because I realize things are coming to a close, and there were, and will always be, a lot of very simple, ordinary, nice things about the experience of living to focus on. Maybe it's all of those things. But in the dream, I felt that same kind of peace and excitement--amplified, in spite of the building collapsing.
Someone who hurt me very badly who I'd grown up with is my boss.
He has me do several tasks, and even though we are both polite to each other, I am wildly uncomfortable being around him.
Then I get in a car with my mother, and she starts driving erratically. She runs over a little toddler who had exited the family van and was standing in the turn lane. I scream, horrified.
We look around town, and I wonder if I would live here.
Then we park, and I realize she has dementia.
The mother of the girl we ran over followed us. She comes up to my window. I'm terrified. In an effort to explain ourselves, I say, "She has dementia!" To my surprise and relief, the woman seems to understand and forgive us. She walks away.
I don't know what to do about my mom's dementia, but I know she can't keep driving.
INTERPRETATION
I am doing a lot of guided lovingkindness meditation along to videos on YouTube. Lovingkindness meditation is a type of Buddhist meditation in which you try to expand your circle of compassion and love to encircle all beings.
All. That's a very tall order for me, and I think I'm not alone in that. But recently, I will think about people who have hurt me very badly in the past, and I will either put them out of my mind for a while during meditation, or if I feel up to it, I will try to include them in my circle of compassion.
It's hard for me to accept the fact that people do vile things, while wishing them well at the same time. I asked ChatGPT about this, and it gave a stellar answer. Unfortunately, I accidentally deleted that answer. I thought I could always get the same response again, so I didn't copy it elsewhere, but it's different now. Oh well.
What I really took away from the chatbot's answer was that lovingkindness meditation implies that love has transformative powers--even if it's just love cultivated in your own heart. Eventually, that love you carry with you shows up in the wider world. And it can do you good to have faith that people can change. The answer also encouraged moving beyond the shallowness of judgements warped with one's own pain to trying to view hurtful actions as a result of suffering in a vast, interconnected system of life.
So I think that's why I'm dreaming about someone who hurt me. I'm trying to have more compassion. But I still don't know exactly how to handle feelings of resentment that keep cropping up now and then.
I am, however, incredibly thankful for grace for my own messes, as symbolized by the mother who forgave us for running over her child.
And I am trying to figure out how to be wise when dealing with people--harmful people, too.
I'm also scared of dementia. I know so many people's parents who have dementia at this point. It's always sad.
