How truthful are dreams, I wonder? How much are they flattery, and how much are they our waking selves, writ small?
I dreamed last night I was in a war; I believe it was the WWII. Somehow, I'd been drafted, and I was being shipped to an army camp of some sort. After a while, I looked down at the rifle in my hands, puzzled.
"Wait--" I thought. "This can't be right. I'm a Quaker. I don't fight."
And they came and they gathered up those of us who said we wouldn't fight, and told us to stand in a circle in the middle of the troop of soldiers, and they trained their guns on us, and asked us if we still insisted that we could not fight, and we said yes.
I didn't think they would actually kill us--I thought there was some rule, even in my dream, that Quakers did not have to fight--but I wasn't sure. I wasn't very afraid, and I didn't want to die, but it seemed possible.
And then the soldiers fired at us, but they fired blanks, and then took away our guns, and we didn't have to fight. And I felt so peaceful, so good: the way I felt on the first morning of summer vacation when I was young.
A little later in the dream I was doing stand-up comedy to promote glbtq rights, with fellow-blogger Mike Shell. We were working on a routine around the Bible, and having a lot of fun.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the sequence was its lack of drama. At times I was confused, or worried. But mostly, it was a peaceful, centered state of mind I found within myself.
It was a very peaceful, contented dream.
I dreamed last night I was in a war; I believe it was the WWII. Somehow, I'd been drafted, and I was being shipped to an army camp of some sort. After a while, I looked down at the rifle in my hands, puzzled."Wait--" I thought. "This can't be right. I'm a Quaker. I don't fight."
And they came and they gathered up those of us who said we wouldn't fight, and told us to stand in a circle in the middle of the troop of soldiers, and they trained their guns on us, and asked us if we still insisted that we could not fight, and we said yes.
I didn't think they would actually kill us--I thought there was some rule, even in my dream, that Quakers did not have to fight--but I wasn't sure. I wasn't very afraid, and I didn't want to die, but it seemed possible.
And then the soldiers fired at us, but they fired blanks, and then took away our guns, and we didn't have to fight. And I felt so peaceful, so good: the way I felt on the first morning of summer vacation when I was young.
A little later in the dream I was doing stand-up comedy to promote glbtq rights, with fellow-blogger Mike Shell. We were working on a routine around the Bible, and having a lot of fun.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the sequence was its lack of drama. At times I was confused, or worried. But mostly, it was a peaceful, centered state of mind I found within myself.
It was a very peaceful, contented dream.
Comments
I'm still working on memorizing or remembering my own dreams it's an uphill battle as I'm an Aries and always hard to keep my attention focused on any one thing haha.
Interesting mix too, pagan quaker. I'll continue to read up.
BlueJoker @ lakexeno.com
I suppose nobody ever does know for sure unless they are tested; I remember hearing that many Friends in Kenya thought of the "peace testimony" as, essentially, a luxury that Friends in wealthy, privileged places like the United States worried about--you know, as a kind of hobby of political dabbling, as opposed to the daily work in the trenches against poverty that confronts a Kenyan Quaker.
And then, of course, came the stories of the incredible courage of many Kenyan Friends, in the face of the post-election violence two years ago.
I tell you, I'd like very much to apprentice in my peace testimony in the company of men and women who discovered the power of their own in the face of machetes, as they stood to protect their neighbors from their neighbors.
Something out there has a lot of power to keep us right, may be. I hope I am open to that Light if ever I need to be.
May we be faithful.
Thanks, friends. *smile*
As I recall, conscripts were also grouped together and shot at with blanks. Metal cartridges only came into limited use with the repeating Henry rifles at the end of that war, so a blank charge was easily made up by just filling the muzzle-loading muskets with powder and wadding. I seem to remember the circle, but I might be wrong about that.
Sounds like scary fun, and I'd be glad to work with you. :-)
"David and Jonathan walk into a bar...."
Thanks, Cat. I don't often do guest appearances in other people's dreams...that I know of.
Meanwhile, it's interesting that we usually talk about having to practice the peace testimony in extremis.
I find that the most difficult part of the practice is in the most trivial, mundate moments. Driving to work each day is a prime example: I strike out every morning before I ever finish the few miles to work, because I lose my temper and curse other drivers.
Why do I say that those cases are the important onces? Because those are part of the thousand daily mini-insults which I commit as I dehumanize any stranger who gets in my way.
Blessed Be,
Michael
Shoe on the other foot?
Mike