The loose-leaf notebook that usually resides on my kitchen table is a journal of nighttime dreams and daytime activities. I scribble on its college-ruled pages each morning while savoring my first cup of coffee before getting down to business and composing the day’s to do list.
A recent dream and its sequel a week or so later continue to tantalize me. The initial dream was brief and to the point. I see before me in the mysterious hour between the daylight of consciousness and the dark of night a sleek little black car. While staring silently at this image, I receive a cryptic message, “a multi-powered vehicle.”
With hints of Jungian influence, I treat the dream as a gift from my unconscious suggesting the vehicle in which I now travel on my lifetime journey toward wholeness does not depend on a single source of energy.
The dream prompted me to examine what those sources of energy might be: the spiritual disciplines I practice daily; reading the works of spiritual leaders of various religious traditions; loving relationships with family, friends, and neighbors; occasionally lending a helping hand to someone in need; satisfaction from my chosen vocation as a writer; and of course, self care, including good nutrition, daily exercise, and adequate rest.
The color black, according to my own dream lexicon developed over many years, suggests that despite occasional lapses, I convey an overall attitude of respect toward others.
Brief as it was, this note from my unconscious felt very affirming, even as I cautioned myself against the dangers of ego inflation.
The sequel to the above dream, which occurred in bright light, was more complex. The characters included a distraught female acquaintance, and myself.
I become impatient with the woman for nagging me when I want to meditate for a while. I finally give in and sit down with her. I notice she’s wearing a stylish black dress with a white blazer.
In a pleading voice, she says, “I need a car.”
That’s where the dream ends.
Writing in my journal that morning, I conclude the acquaintance who visited me in my dream was referring to a symbolic vehicle with which to proceed on her life journey.
She must be stranded or stuck some place, I thought, but how and where can she obtain her own vehicle?
The answer was not immediately available to me. Then I recalled an incident from my days in the corporate world in suburban St. Paul when I became frustrated with a particular situation and sought advice from Tony Tan, a wise Vietnamese co-worker who wore his security badge on a lanyard inscribed with the words yin and yang.
Tony reminded me of how Buddhist monks seek answers to their questions in meditation. “You go home this evening and meditate for a few minutes,” he instructed me, “You’ll receive the answer to your question.”
I followed his advice and quickly realized that meditation itself was the answer I sought as it gave me the detachment I needed to deal constructively with the source of my frustration at work.
That led me to the stranded woman’s dilemma. She might possibly find the solution to her problem by first exploring mindfulness meditation in the readily accessible works of Thich Nhat Hanh, John Kabat Zinn, or maybe even the Dalai Lama.
The next step for her would be to begin practicing mindfulness meditation a few minutes each day.
In time, I’m thinking, she’ll no longer be stranded or stuck in one place; instead, she’ll be driving her own multi-powered vehicle on her lifetime journey toward wholeness.
That will be true most certainly if she follows the guidance of my favorite guru, Thich Nhat Hanh, who offers rich resources in his many books for spiritual growth, strengthening family relationships, achieving vocational success, improving overall health and well being, and peace-making.
One more thing, the sequel to my initial dream reminded me that attending to someone in need must occasionally take precedence over practicing meditation.
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