Rat Dream Yoga Again!

Sunday 10:34 a.m.
So I was falling into and out of dreams for a couple of hours this morning. This is perhaps partly a consequence of drinking four beers last night. Even with that amount, you're not going to be sharp as a tack and jumping out of bed at six or seven in the morning.

I was lost as usual, but it wasn't in downtown Freetown. It was a most gigantic and wonderful country mansion with rooms the size of Superbowls and fabulous vistas wherever you looked. This was the Potala Palace or the Gormenghast of country houses.

I was trying to get back to the Domestic Bliss so we could get on a bus, but with my sense of direction ....we were still there when it turns out that this place is some gigantic public school. I ends up walking along a bit with Boris Johnson, the old Etonian who has just been elected Lord Mayor of London (by the stupid Englanders). So I says to him: You're Boris Johnson! When he says he is, I tell him I must be dreaming then, and he says I'm not. This is a very vivid dream, but I know I must be dreaming if Boris Johnson is there, so I try to see if I can fly, and jump up and down a few times, but I don't fly.

I was so pleased when I wakened up after that one, and was looking forward to dozing off again.

Then I'm back in the country house and it's a huge and affluent public school place now. There's a huge staircase and it's got hundreds and hundreds of public school boys on it (they all looked too old to be at public school) and the crush of them is terrible and things feel as if the situation might get a wee bit out of hand, not that I'm particularly worried. I can see the Domestic Bliss's brother Chris round the curve of the staircase and up there a bit. Then I see him standing beside me. I look back and forth, and when I see that he's in two places at once, I say to the Chris beside me: I must be dreaming. I' m once again very elated by this even although Chris tells me that I'm definitely not dreaming.

I tell him that we can get out of this crush and to just hold onto me. I put my head down and, like a mouse under a tablecloth, I push against this stream of public schoolboys ... this normally would be like paddling up a waterfall ... and with feelings of great elation emerge with Chris behind me in the freedom of open space. This is the performance of the impossible in dreamland.

What a happy, happy start to the day!

If you wanted to look on this dream as a comment the Labour Party going down the toilet in local government elections the other day .... if the nowhere people from nowhere land think they can saddle Scotland with a government stuffed full of proto-Thatcherite, old Etonians, well, maybe not this time, Jack! If Labour can't win in England, the vote on the left is for the SNP.

9:20 p.m.
Since my partner was out all day, I stayed in and read the papers, investigated ra bliss. Fabulous meditations there were, Jack!

I haven't been running much recently, but soon after she came in, I went out running. I was getting a bit stir crazy after being in a lobby for most of the day, and jogging through the beautiful, wonderful city was such a tonic.

My head was just so right for it this evening. No anxieties. I wasn't really trying hard. I knew everything was going to be alright and everything felt alright. I was on the four mile run which takes you up the five sections of hill as you look up to the Scott Monument, up Dundas Street. Trying to move lightly on the earth, even on the hills. Kind of effortlessly gliding in a way. I am so fortunate to have these feeling from physicality at 57 years old, fortunate to have them at all. I just loved that run this evening. What a fortunate creature I am, I am. What a fortunate creature I am!

Telling yourself that you're dreaming when you're walking about awake isn't all that different, is really the same, as telling yourself that your reality is illusory, or that emptiness is all there is.

Like images seen in a dream; thus must we regard all things. Nagarjuna. The Wall.

Sweet dreams to one and all!