CrankyBuddhist   the learning never ends …

Dreaming is just another aspect of living.

This morning, as I was wondering around dreamland a man appeared (casually dressed, although he did have sunglasses on, and the aura of a secret agent man) in the window of an old industrial building and held up a handwritten sign.

On it was written:

This is a test.

Is it common to have a dream that tells us what day we are going to die?

God. He had very white skin and very white, shoulder length hair. Whiter than white. True white. Pure white. Not a white people white. And he wore white shorts and nothing else. He looked like some guy who had lived near the ocean all his life – relaxed, smiling, laid-back, kind of like a retired surfer. He wore glasses. He smiled. He was present. He padded around my apartment in white flip-flops, picking something up off the table and putting it on the counter, taking something out of the frigo and putting it on the table. He fluffed a pillow on the couch. I slept. I was comfortable in this bed, not all the way asleep, yet no where near awake. The white light shone brightly through the windows in the room. Even so, I was sleeping in my very own bed, with my very own blankets. I was in a room that had no time limit. It was my room for however long I wanted it. The man in the very white shorts was taking care of things. Taking care of me. He put a white mug of brown, steaming, tea on the table next to my bed. Everything in the room was white, except for my favorite blankets and the brown tea. When my eyes opened slightly he would smile and say ” Don’t worry, everything is fine”. I trusted him. I said “OK”.