Where it began I can begin to remember, but my dreams keep humming along. Sometimes the dreams are of days past, sometimes of future possibilities, and sometimes they get mixed together in a cacaphony of images.
In third grade I was known as the hysteric and not always taken very seriously. This morphed into a sort of class clown, which I have not lived down to this day. (I’ll discuss that later, but it has a reoccuring theme in my life for a host of antics which influence my aforementioned dreams.)
So, a HUGE storm was upon the rural school I attended in second grade. We were dutifully trained to get under our desks in case of natural or nucler disaster. One day, due to the fact that our teacher did not act swiftly enough, (in my estimation,) I began running around the room screaming for the bewildered students to get under their desks as we were under attack. The teacher was not amused at students running amuck, me screaming and crying as mayhem ensued. (This story is verifiable, in case you were wondering.) The teacher and the school secretary grabbed me from my self chosen duty to warn, and told me we were not under attack, that it was a thunder storm. I was not totally convinced, but stayed close by my desk in case they were wrong. The teacher again, was not amused. SO, it took me years to get over storms, dreaming they were taking us away and the like. Somehow, I have survived. Somehow.
Another case happened in first grade, sorry, I digress. In those days it was mandatory girls wore skirts or dresses to school. One could wear outer pants with said garment on cold days, but must be taken off once inside. Again, I was a bit nervous about the rules and getting it wrong, and oh so nervous, I mistakenly took off my skirt leaving only my outer pants to cover me. Emerging from the cloak room and seeing what I had done, I thought I was dead, literally dead. The rules were firm and non negociable. And there I was, in front of eveyone, who in unison began laughing when I came into view. I, of course became slightly hysterical and embarrassed and had to go home. At least there I knew I was safe from the possible comets that might hurl my way. The dreams of humiliation stayed with me.
The point to my retelling these events, is that they wrapped themselves up in my brain and organized themselves into something much bigger than the events that actually transpired. My brain betrayed me. My mind went asunder. And, I have spent the better part of my life trying to untangle the realites from the dreams. Events such as these can lingerin the mind and form inaccurate perceptions of the world, of oursleves and of others. In my case, this mixing of wishful or fearful thinking and the reality has made for alot of confusion and unneeded hurt. There is a funny old saying that the elders used to say to kids…” get your head on straight.” I think in some ways, this is what that may have meant. There’s a difference between dreaming of oceans and clouds and living there.
I have been labled a dreamer. In the poetic and literal sense. I see grand possibilites where others see grains of sand. At times this has served me well, and at times has caused great inner conflict and pain, as what I thought wasn’t, and what I did not see was. Confounding to me, clear as day to others around me.
It is not so much different for most of us I think. “Our thoughts become us,”... someone once said. I believe it is up to us to be watchful about our thoughts, to be discerning about our thoughts and opinons lest they become part of our unrealities as well.
So how do we carefully scrutinize our thoughts? How do we discern reality from wishful or fearful thinking? Many professional journals and research papers have been written on this subject, but just for this moment, ask yourself, how do I decifer truth from fiction? And really, it’s really not just about just truth and fiction: it’s about how we want to see things, how we want our perception to influence our lives. How do we want to live?
Perception is 9 tenths of ones midset, or so “they” say. I believe from my past experiences it is true. This true point LEADS TO ANOTHER QUESTION:
Who helps you, who is your “watchman” on your perception of you, of your life?
I have close friends who know me well enough to let me know when I may need to chart another course. They can let me know when it appears my realities have mixed into my dreams again, but my listening is another matter.
But….There is One, who I KNOW I can totally trust with my dreams and my realities. My ultimate “Watchman” is God.
He assists me in determining the attention I pay to things that pass my way. He assists me in knowing when to sift the shaft from the grain. He shows me how to look for the good, the reasonable, the tolerable, the graceful and the mercy each of us so deserve. He shows me my dreams now, and now the dreams are filled with oceans. Deep, wide, calming oceans, that my soul can rest in and find new energy to continue living and dreaming. Oceans that have real possibilities. Oceans that look farther than I can humanly percieve. Oceans of Dreams that only He can see.
I hope this has given you some time to think about how your Oceans of Dreams come about, how you might change them if need be and how very Blessed you are.
Blessings to you all.
s a reoccuring theme
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