This morning I woke up around 1 am from a dream I had. It was almost like an action movie, and somewhat inspirational in terms of addressing some spiritual issues. Later again I woke up around 4 am. My dreams became less action-y and suspenseful, but maintained that high degree of soul therapy, not seeking, that I often strive for as much as possible. At some point I told myself that I would avoid going to shul today so that I could spend more time in my dreams thinking about life and dreaming wonderful things.
At exactly 8 am, or damn near it, I had a dream of a white clad figure near a large frame looking structure. I think it was a parking garage for a mall or something, since nothing else was neighboring it except a few houses. That structure was also white. It reminded me of Japan somehow, but it wasn't, even though I saw some Japanese looking people around. The white clad figure had the same dead eyes I wrote about in a previous story, whose title I snuck out of the lyrics of the tune By Starlight, performed by the Smashing Pumpkins.
The white clad figure stared at me, saying nothing. I don't know why did such but when I looked up it rained. Terrified, I woke up immediately. I wasn't in a sweat, that was around 1 am or so, but I realized right then and there that I should go to shul. I believe that wouldn't have gone if I did not experience such when I did. Minyan started at nine, and I knew I could make it on time, but making it on time wasn't the only reason. I couldn't let those dead eyes haunt me into the day! They were just a dream, they were just what I wanted to see, or not want to see or believe in.
Sitting in minyan waiting for more members, we noticed those who normally were going to lead us through weren't showing, which was fine. So to pass the time briefly a question was brought up.
"When you think of God's creations, what do you believe is the greatest? What do you believe is important to you? Why is that?"
Sitting right there immediately thought about how grateful I am to be alive even though I'm in pain at times, physically and emotionally. Even though sometimes I don't like being here.
I left my body and it's thoughts about life. I floated away, while still sitting there and I thought about what made me happy. I remembered an experience, or experiences rather, that I shared with Fozzjnen. Since I've known him Fozzjnen has asked me several times to come over and clean his place, when it is too much for him, albeit if he lived alone he probably would never contact me, but in any case he would have me come over to help clean.
I honestly will say that while I didn't mind having money in my pocket from him, I felt better about cleaning his place. Even though I wasn't always helping myself, or my own place be it emotionally or physically out of whack, I was grateful that I was helping him. That mattered to me, and it still does. Even when I couldn't help myself, and when I couldn't bring myself up into the light again. When I could smile and still be detached from everything outside of being a warm body on auto-pilot. I could still be there for him somehow, to make his life easier for him. I am fortunate that I have him as my friend, for being there when I myself am not always there or even here at times. And I think somehow that always made the job easier, except when it came to cleaning up melted-cheese or washing his car. I did think of more examples as they flashed in my mind and heart, especially ones that are more recent and probably more relevant, but that's all I can share for now.
Back among the conscious, while I sat in my chair, I again was asked for an aliyah (עליה), I replied with more or less said, "Not yet." I usually do not participate in such, except when I am responsible as a brief congregational participant. But when we were instructed to say the names of the loved ones whom we wished God to come down upon and heal, I found myself uttering names quietly under my breath, several times, although never over another's as they said it publicly.
It wasn't the first time I have done this, and I prayed throughout the service, giving up at times with singing along, since some pages had no transliteration, and my Hebrew is too weak to follow at such a promenade of joyous voices. I could follow along with reading the Hebrew, knowing when a start had begun and an end had come, yet I did get lost at times only to have to myself find the place again.
I lost track of what I was doing while I was there, even in the middle of my prayer, which was in the middle of singing. I forgot to stand, and I stared intently at the words. הרים (Mountains...) I can read that! We're not on Haftarah yet? I paused myself in my own confusion, which went beyond just my limited knowledge of reading the language. Then I refocused myself. Sitting up straight, following my air, as it moved past my heart, feeling it beat. Feeling the air move my lungs, pushing my sternum and ribs outward.
When I looked up I remembered that I had to continue with what I said about time one day. I had to give things time, as much as possible, and I had to continue praying. I had to surrender to who I am on the inside, waking up to see myself. When I left shul, there wasn't any rain that I could see, but it would come. Yes it will come, sometime, but not right now. The sunshine was out, of course with the naturalness of expected and lingering clouds. I rolled my driver's side window down taking in the wind, letting it push itself, me, and feelings through my mind as we meandered through its rough trails and overgrowth.
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