Date: Friday, 6/13
Title: Becoming Creativity
Time: 7:24 AM
I am lying in bed trying to go directly into a dream by watching hypnogogic images and meditating on my breath. Slowly, the darkness makes way to form a tiny triangle “window” in which I can see an old man sitting inside. It occurs to me that the triangle is the portal into the dream itself and I realize that I will soon be there. I wait patiently as I get pulled forward - slowly at first and then with full force. I feel the sensation of being drawn into the dream with light whooshing sounds and full awareness, understanding what is about to happen.
I’m then pulled fully inside the triangle and am now in an expansive room made of wood. The old man is there with a white beard, sitting before me. His scale is about 3x larger than a normal human giving him a god-like quality - though his vibe doesn’t come across that way. As in, I don’t understand or recognize him to be a God. We are about to start a conversation when I tell him to hold on for one moment. Very clearly recalling my inspiration from Robert Waggoner and my goal to “Become Creativity”, I tell him, “Stay right here. I want to go talk to The Dreaming first and then I’ll come back and talk to you.”
I walk by him and over to an even larger open area that has two small steps down that span the entire space. Everything is still made of wooden slats and I stand in the center. The spot where I stand makes it feel like I am center stage. I look up and see glass roof above me with a night sky beyond. The appearance of the environment looks like a huge wooden ship potentially floating through space.
I put my arms out to my side, look up and shout my request, “I wish to become pure creativity!” My voice is booming - only… I don’t really get it out. Like someone who has lost their voice, I only manage to actually speak a subset of the words, the rest are strangely muted. The ship seems to have started moving and we seem to be hurling through space by the cosmic stars and objects that I can see from the glass ceiling above.
I try again. “I wish to become pure creativity!” I struggle with my voice again. The ship continues to move but suddenly, a huge purple glitter snowflake (like a Christmas ornament), crashes down through the glass ceiling and remains wedged between the glass and the wood of the ship above me. I consider the snowflake for a moment. I’m perplexed and mostly unsatisfied with the response.
I rub my hands together and recall the old man. I walk back away from steps and the main open hall and see him in a different location - in the corner of the ship near a pole by a kitchen. He is now at regular human scale and is much younger without the beard. Although he looks different, I seem to understand that he is the same person. We hug and I seem to try to become intimate with him but he responds with hesitation to that and I wake up.