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Driving With Mr. Death
Couple of years ago, I had this dream about death. Death.
I was walking down a street in London in this dream, up it, actually, it was uphill. Saw Bono standing outside this cool car. Bono. Really. But as I walked up to him, he changed. Into an older guy. Silver-white hair. Cool looking. Long sorta linen suit. Southern. By the time I'd noticed the change, I already had my hand on the car door handle. So I had to get in, right?
Strapped myself in. And the guy turns to look at me, and shitmefuck, it wasn't Bono at all. Not at all. I was riding with Death. Him. The car was parked facing up the hill, this long cool Caddie-Roller kinda car. And he pushes in the clutch & lets the car start rolling backward, down the hill, fast. That feeling where you're strapped in, trapped inside something that's completely out of control, and you know what's coming. You can see it. And I knew that at the bottom of that hill was a cliff, and after that, a long way down, the ocean. But I can't get out of the seat-belt. And I start panicking.
And he just smiles as we pick up speed, enjoying it, that I'm losing it, and then... slips his foot off the clutch, shifts the car into gear... and off we go, forward. Smooth as that. Just to let me know he's got the wheel, got control.
So we're talking as we drive. Me & Death. It's cool out, he's got the window open. But all I can think about is... how do I get loose from this seat belt & harness, so I can jump out or something. As we're talking, he becomes aware that I know who he is - even though nobody else does. When they look in through the window, all they see is Bono. He's smiling... he likes this. But I'm aware of the bastard, who he really is. I can see his long white teeth. He tells me, "Nobody ever gets out. Alive." Honest to God, the guy cracks that kinda fuckin' cliche, in a dream. Pathetic, eh? He knows it, and he doesn't care. Laughs.
He's got one hand out the window on his side, breeze blowing in. He's letting it wiggle in the wind, you know, up & down, hand-swimming, and I know he's got a gun in it. I'm just trying to figure a way outta that car. Lemme out. That's my only thought. Frantic.
When he looks at me & says, "You know how most good men die?" And instantly, I see World War I. With trenches & fields & bombs & shit. See it like it's sprayed across the windshield. And I think, "No, I don't know how most good men die."
So he tells me. "Shot by their own side." And as he says this, I see it. I get to see some noble/heroic young captain, shot in the back by one of his own. And the killer, this cynical shit, turns his face slowly toward me, until I see that it's... Death. A younger version.
As he says "by their own side," suddenly, he leans right in over me, gun in my face, making me slide down & cower in the car seat, lashed in by that fucking harness. No way out. Trying to rally every bit of fierceness I have, pissing myself with Fear. 'Cause I'm gonna die.
And then... I'm out. Walking a beach road, with the smell of apple blossoms in the air. Free. Alive.
And all I have left is a message. The message. From that trip. It's not quite what you'd think, looking just at the dream. Odd how I know this is the message, but it is -
That Death is not our enemy. Death did not come to scare me. Or threaten me. Or take me. He came, just to tell me something.
He came to tell me that we can become too fiercely focused on our enemies. Too focused "out there", out across the trenches, on our opponents. When sometimes, some times, the critical failure is actually happening just in behind us. In & amongst ourselves.
This is not a story I've ever felt like telling in public. But whenever someone mentions death, I always remember that dream. And today, for some reason, I felt that I had to pass it on, that message. That we, somehow, the great grand "us" - whether generation or party or movement or community - that we, the good guys, can make historic errors, miss historic opportunities, by failing to bring forward things we actually possess, by failing to summon the courage. And thus, we fail ourselves.
I donno. That was the dream-message.
Death & his associates - the Crones et al - I have met a few times now, in this life. And below. And yeah... it was Him. No mistaking. I don't have dreams that scary about anything or anyone else. Maybe it'll mean something to you.
Amen.
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Wonderful dream. Wonderful insight. And thanks for sharing it.
We are not only the ones we're waiting for. We're also the ones we're dreading.
November 16, 2008 1:53 PM | Reply | Permalink
Those last two lines of yours are probably worth a post, and mass T-shirt reproduction, Thera! Cheers.
November 16, 2008 2:00 PM | Reply | Permalink
If you walk away, I will follow.
The enemy within.
Think about it, Achilles done in by his mother.
November 16, 2008 3:09 PM | Reply | Permalink
I'm playing it safe. I walk around with skates on. Those things are bulletproof.
I figured that video by the Hip would get everyone in the requisite dream-twisted state. Gord Downie's got his shaman thing happening, big fat Doobie guitars in behind, just to make it seem sensible. But you gotta love a hit song - in this era - created on-stage, as Gordo ranted & free associated images into a story, ending up with a guy locked in the trunk of a car, but starting,
"They don't know how old I am,
Found armour in my belly,
From the 16th century,
Conquistador, I think..."
My kinda guy, Gordo.
November 16, 2008 5:57 PM | Reply | Permalink
Be my guest, dear Quinn. Anything I write, I offer as ideas to be stolen. You've got the idea for the post. (and T-shirts) Go for it!
I think when ideas come, they come to be shared. I look forward to reading what you do with this!
November 16, 2008 3:18 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thanks Thera. In case you wander back, any suggestions on the nature of our "dread"?
November 17, 2008 10:23 AM | Reply | Permalink
Wow! Thanks for putting your dream and your thoughts on the page, esteemed nasopharynx.
And to bring forth all that is within us, and avoid those historic errors, we also need the courage to give the devil (our shadow) his due.
"Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable chain?"
"It was I," said the prisoner, "who forged this chain very carefully."
- Rabindranath Tagore
November 16, 2008 4:55 PM | Reply | Permalink
Jeez.... You, Des & Thera are bringin' out the big guns here - Tagore, Achilles & Dread.
So.... what would you all say was the chain we've forged? The thing within us, that we dread? The Achilles wound?
Or if I haven't asked this right, feel free to revamp the question. I DO actually think about this question, talk with my friends about it, quite a bit. It's always hard to see oneself, and one's own times.....
November 16, 2008 5:13 PM | Reply | Permalink
what? The Dickens...
"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?"
Scrooge trembled more and more.
"Or would you know," pursued the Ghost, "the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!"
Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could see nothing.
November 16, 2008 5:21 PM | Reply | Permalink
Hey Bird. Huh. New story. But boy, talk about bad luck - getting tagged with a name like that. ;-)
So how does this "Scrooge" due end up? Does he get away? More please!
November 17, 2008 10:26 AM | Reply | Permalink
My thought/feeling is in tune with what you said in your post:
"He came to tell me that we can become too fiercely focused on our enemies. Too focused "out there", out across the trenches, on our opponents. When sometimes, some times, the critical failure is actually happening just in behind us. In & amongst ourselves."
The chain is our own delusions (including the sense of constant assault by external enemies), the ones we can unwittingly wrap ourselves in if we aren't paying attention to how we tend our own gardens.
Like Jimi said:
"I used to live in a room full of mirrors,
And all I could see was me . . ."
November 16, 2008 5:45 PM | Reply | Permalink
Albert Hall. Room Full Of Mirrors (plus Cowbell!)
Can we have him back now please?
November 17, 2008 10:22 AM | Reply | Permalink
Damn, that's a funky rhythmic choochoo train! Thanks for turning me on to that, Quinn! A jam that has it all - Mitch Mitchell and the congas thumpin',guitar humpin', teeth pickin', various refugees from Traffic in the mix - extra cool because I was listening to 1983 yesterday with that spooky Chris Wood flute. I love seeing that wall of Marshall stacks - and how 'bout them white knee-boots!
I once dreamed that I met Hendrix. He was living in a run-down old house, and we were talking in room full of Asian stringed instruments (kotos, samisens, etc.). I was shocked - I told him everyone thought he was dead, but he said he was just keeping a low profile. I was so happy to see him I was crying. He told me it was OK and offered me some bubble gum.
November 17, 2008 12:00 PM | Reply | Permalink
Took me a long time to get into Hendrix, my ears can refuse a sound, and then... it breaks open and I can't get enough of it. Finally got into Hendrix in Spring 1983. I was working on my thesis, hadn't a word written, so locked myself in my room. Only went out of the house for food. "Food" meaning enormous gallon buckets of chocolate ice cream. Which I'd spoon out at my desk, and pour chocolate sauce into the space created. Ate that gunk for weeks.
And all the time, nothing but Hendrix. Windows open, working all hours, staring out over the houses, Electric Ladyland, 24/7. "1983", Jimi playing underwater, perfect for the mad thing I was writing. A thesis stuffed full of made-up books & authors, in-jokes & out-houses, Jimi lyrics slipped in wherever I could. (And absolutely drug-free, other than the music, the ice cream, and my own brain chemistry.)
Slipped the thesis under my Supervisor's door at 8:00 am. The final marking committee was to meet at 9:00. Talked to him afterward, said he gave me an A to get me the hell out of there. He hadn't read a word before that meeting. Which made me laugh even harder.
A year later, we meet again. My supervisor was an old conservative guy. He starts talking about the thesis, said he'd gone back & read it, loved it. So blah blah, we discuss it. As we leave he says to me - this old guy - "On its own, a pretty fine piece of work. But it took Jimi to push it over the top." I suspect he's still laughing at the look on my face. Anyhoo TT, if you dream of Jimi again, tell him thanks from me - for my thesis!
November 17, 2008 12:45 PM | Reply | Permalink
I can imagine you overdosing on chocolate glop with "And the Gods Made Love" orbiting around your head - Oooooooaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmsssssssccccccccchhhhhhhuuuuuuusssssssssccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwooooooooossssssssshhhhhhhsssssssccccccchhhhhhhiiiiiiiiisssssssssccccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhssssssshhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwiiiiiiicccccccttttttttiiiiiiikkktiktiktiktiktiktiktiksssssssccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhhhhhwwwwwwwhhhhhhhooooooooommmmmmm:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
November 17, 2008 1:49 PM | Reply | Permalink
Oooooooaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmsssssssccccccccchhhhhhhuuuuuuusss
ssssssccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwooooooooossssssssshhhhhhhssssss
sccccccchhhhhhhiiiiiiiiisssssssssccccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaahhh
hhhhssssssshhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwiiiiiiicccccccttttttttiiiiiiikkktiktiktiktiktiktiktik
sssssssccccccchhhhhhhwwwwwwwaaaaaaahhhhhhhwwwwwwwhhhhhhhooo
oooooommmmmmm:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
November 17, 2008 2:01 PM | Reply | Permalink
Damn, all of my followup posts disappeared.
Quinn, you're from up north, you know the problem - cannibalism, eating your own, desparate, teethmarks in all the bones around the campfire, and those aren't huskie femurs.
November 16, 2008 6:17 PM | Reply | Permalink
Quinn, I always knew you were dreamy.
November 16, 2008 5:08 PM | Reply | Permalink
Yeah, Dreamy... but maybe a Bad Dreamy!
November 16, 2008 5:25 PM | Reply | Permalink
Nah, that would make you a nightmare.
I had a dream about 'ol death myself, round about when I was 17 or so.. I have not forgotten it.
November 16, 2008 6:11 PM | Reply | Permalink
More like a Dreamsicle!
Birth and Death, Friends and enemies. "
We are the Grim Reaper and the Morning Star both it would seem.
"Love is but a song we sing,You hold the key to love and fear, all in your trembling hand" -the Youngbloods
November 16, 2008 6:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
And we are but a moment's sunlight, fading in the grass.
November 16, 2008 6:36 PM | Reply | Permalink
You hold the key to love and fear,
In your trembling hand.
Just one key unlocks them both,
It's there at your command...
Plus a few shots of Hillary and Obama.
November 17, 2008 10:37 AM | Reply | Permalink
But to your point.
The Gospel of Thomas, Saying 70
"If you bring forth what is within you, what is within you will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what is within you will destroy you."
What is within us that can save or destroy?
November 16, 2008 6:49 PM | Reply | Permalink
Ah, Quinn:
Any response to what you have written is cheap, in so far as any response will fail to meet your demonstration of courage.
Therefore, initial -- and woefully inadequate -- responses to the fundamental questions you raise might be:
Is death itself more frightening than the surprise of betrayal?
Is betrayal any less potent when it is unintentional or inadvertent?
Is the horror of betrayal greater when it is external, or within?
Dunno. Ongoing subject of obsessive/compulsive concern -- sometimes masochistic.
Nonetheless, what I choose to believe is this: "Greater love hath no man..." (or woman)... than the ultimate forgiveness/understanding of those (one loves) who betray.... including oneself.
Bottom line: compassion is underrated -- not least for that universally unpopular, unwelcome, symbolic spectre at our feast -- Death -- whose only error in etiquette may be the hypersensitivity of not announcing our penultimate date in advance.
November 16, 2008 8:14 PM | Reply | Permalink
Russian dolls. Death inside good, good inside death, and so on....
You've suggested forgiving the betrayal. Care to back up a step, and hazard a guess on what the betrayal is to be, or maybe even how we can avoid it? Because we don't always follow through on the betrayals we fear or foresee....
November 17, 2008 10:49 AM | Reply | Permalink
As a good (and wise) friend of mine said, "WW's comments are always worth re-reading." They sink down through levels in my mind. Here's one level they passed through on their journey.
Bono = Good. So Death came disguised from the start, as Good. Thus, "betrayed" me, from the beginning. But then... doubled back on me again at the end, leaving me with a message of how the Good in us can undo itself. A message which, with luck, should further... the Good. So turn and turn again.
Perhaps reinforcing your emphasis that need for us to not only be ready for these things, but to look with understanding, compassion, forgiveness, when they do occur. Because the next outcome, the next turn itself, the next Russian Doll, is likely to contain another surprise. I wonder if we'll be ready to do this, in the coming months. But mostly WW, thank you.
November 17, 2008 1:14 PM | Reply | Permalink
You folks are triggering a lot in me - so thanks for that. Naturally, the price you pay is another long comment! ;-)
Lux's Thomas line conjured William Blake from the back shed of my mind, "Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires." But let's take Thomas, because he nailed the sense of the dream - which was very much that we could fail to bring forward our own good. Two questions began flowing in me from that - What is the good we should bring forward; and, Why do we fail to bring it forth? The latter first:
FEAR. In my life, I'm quite convinced the greatest negative power has been fear. I've had lots of it, succumbed often, my only victory seemingly being to get back up. But at least I feel I'm aware of its enormous spread, and power. Fear is my most likely candidate, for why we might fail to bring the good forward.
If I was to guess at what we're afraid of, well, the immediate catch phrase is written on our own banner - Change.
We all know damn well, in our guts and minds, that the world we have helped build is destructive of others, the Earth, the future, and ourselves. But we've also felt - those of us >30 years at least - that we had to, to a large degree, play it their way. "Sell out" being the harsher, earlier term, but just as easy to say that we've all "bought in," to some degree.
So the fear of now having to jettison what we've bought and bought into, in exchange for an unknown "new," is actually quite awful - when spoken about ourselves, rather than "the nation." For myself, I put off buying a house 'til my mid-40's. Yet now, when I think of losing the house, the fear is near incapacitating. Similarly with a job. I haven't had 10 minutes jobless in 20 years, yet I seize up like a drum when I consider being unemployed, or having to take that leap into the unknown.
Lux, you know the numbers as well & better than I. We talk about %'s of unemployment. But we're talking millions of people who will need to leave/lose their jobs, often leave their present towns, and even leave behind their training & experience in a particular type of work. Not so easy at 40 or 50 or 60.
Yet if we tell the truth, we know to build something new, something more sustainable, that offers the next generation a better chance, that creates a non-bubble, reality-based world --- it is entirely likely it won't simply be a smooth transition where the next generation steps into these jobs, while we get to stay where we are.
So when we talk of change, and the need for it, we almost always think of it in terms of "We're willing to contribute more, volunteer more, etc." But what if we're asked, called, required, to GIVE UP things, important things? We'll be afraid. And faced with that, I suspect we'll argue for ourselves as a special case. We'll special plead, over-recommend the benefits of the existing system, over-state the risks of the new. In short, we'll cling to the old.
THE NEW DREAM. As for the positive good which we should bring forward, I've thought & read, polled & analyzed, pitched & worked for it. And I suspect most of us know it starts with a basic, powerful agreement that all people are equal - sex, sexual preference, color, ability, age, etc. - but should be free to live differently. Beyond that though, I think it also includes a very different take: On peace & other nations; On the Earth & other species; On our role in creating ideas, public decisions, shared tools; It's open-sourced in some sense, gone global and local, walls busted, out of the box, creating & communicating in new ways.
All of which is vague blah-blah, but I'll bet 90% of the people here KNOW what this blah-blah is about. What has amazed me for 25 years is how strongly this stuff polls, how strongly I see it in friends and family, but then... when it comes to the political system, the business world, or even just to living it out ourselves, how hesitant we are.
We keep these dreams, of the new, in our closets. I think of all those MBA's I knew, in love with solar power, who went on to spend their days spinning straw into nickels (and vice-versa.) All those software wizards, who more than anything else love animals, the earth. All the realtors and insurance agents, who love archaeology and space. All these parts of the dream - amongst many many others - we mostly keep in our closets.
Even though... we sense that these dreams COULD form a better world, that the tools are increasingly there, that the economy can be different, that our communities can change.... But it just got so hard to believe, in the face of the Money Monster that seemed to eat the entire land these past 25 years.
That's the dream, the good, that I see us being afraid to bring forward.
Those the desires we leave unacted, the infants murdered in their cradle.
November 16, 2008 9:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
I agree that FEAR is Public (& Private) Enemy #1, #2 and #3.
November 17, 2008 11:34 AM | Reply | Permalink
Wow, that was beautiful!
November 17, 2008 4:26 PM | Reply | Permalink
Quinn, Matthew Arnold famously wrote: "caught between two worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born"
Our own hrebendorf speaks about the courage of claiming one's creative power to bring into being new worlds through the sovereign power of choice and action (although he is less wordy in stating the principle)
The straight path would be a direct transmission between our own personal ideals and our actions. But it is lacking. We waffle, we muddle through--
Our lives are often like low-budget movies with us making low-budget decisions.
Woe to the person who comes to the end of their days and sees their life in these terms.
November 16, 2008 10:27 PM | Reply | Permalink
Better not quote me, Lux. I might just be some crazy, raving fool. :)
November 17, 2008 1:15 AM | Reply | Permalink
Well, I know you are! I wouldn't quote you otherwise! ;-)
November 17, 2008 2:40 PM | Reply | Permalink
Hey, I LIKE low-budget movies. Donno which one would best describe what we're in, though. Suggestions? That are within my budget? ;-)
November 17, 2008 10:43 AM | Reply | Permalink
"Zombies versus Predator III"?
November 17, 2008 2:47 PM | Reply | Permalink
Are your zombies like the ones in "Shaun of the Dead" or more like the ones in "World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie."
The Shaun film made me laugh like hell, an almost perfect depiction of North London.... but the WW-Z book was also pretty great!
November 17, 2008 2:58 PM | Reply | Permalink
The point is actualizing that great thing resident in us from which like motes of sunlight all our ideals and aspirations (from the latin -to breathe!)stream out. Aspirations are the breath of our spirits and if we do not breathe we die inwardly.
You see my avatar...? The Source is always occluded, but the nimbus around it are all our best impulses and dreams and hopes shining out. Martin and John and Barack and civil rights and womens rights and world peace and human dignity and an end to hunger and want and a hope that all will be well...that's the nimbus and we so want to join it and swim in it, not knowing we are its very source if we can just lay down the occulting fear.
November 16, 2008 11:07 PM | Reply | Permalink
Well said.
November 17, 2008 7:18 AM | Reply | Permalink
So what's the occlusion, Lux? The fear? Anything in particular you see at this time, anything fairly widespread?
November 17, 2008 10:42 AM | Reply | Permalink
speaking particularly: it's us.
November 17, 2008 3:01 PM | Reply | Permalink
.
Fear ?
Here was my fear at the young age of 20 ... Forty two years ago.
Read the following quickly ... Then take your time and read it again.
~OGD~
*Here and there in the Café since June 2005*
November 17, 2008 12:33 AM | Reply | Permalink
I enjoyed that, O Glowing Duck. Especially the trip to the zoo. Whoever is superior, seems strikingly inferior..... ;-)
A question. You've had 42 years of thinking about Fear. What say you, after all this? Slug me an answer, will ya?
Slug well, you win a poem!
Slug poorly, you win a book. Of poems.
Slug not at all, and you lose.
But all losers get a consolation prize.
Guess the prize.
November 17, 2008 1:04 AM | Reply | Permalink
Can't answer for OGD. I fear myself, what I will choose. I fear that my fear will cloud my judgement nudging me to take the short route, (and I'm not talking Hinayana vs Mahayana). You said it all ready in your post, "that we, the good guys, can make historic errors, miss historic opportunities, by failing to bring forward things we actually possess, by failing to summon the courage. And thus, we fail ourselves."
The consolation prize? We get to try it all over again next week/month/year/incarnation? Dunno...
Great post. Great comments. Effin' bootyful, sad, funny, and encouraging.
November 17, 2008 3:28 AM | Reply | Permalink
Hey quinn, think back: was there anyone else in the car? Anyone in the back seat? Behind the driver? Just wondering if it's appropriate to apply Freud, Jung, or if this was more of a vision thing...
November 17, 2008 12:57 AM | Reply | Permalink
Just me & Him. Waking dream, Bunny. A heavy thing. Walking down the street, stopped, locked up in fear, the thing poured through me. I've been real close to real death a number of times in life, you know, to the point where you lose your bowel control, but this? This thing carried more freight than any of them.
Obviously, it ties in with a whole network of other... moments, shall we say. But it also stood in & of itself, carried its own weight. But ummm, yeah, it was a vision thing.
November 17, 2008 1:08 AM | Reply | Permalink
I already gave it to you -
...in the child there's no denial in the love he gives to what he cannot do...
Song #1 I believe.
November 17, 2008 3:02 AM | Reply | Permalink
For anyone who is preparing to bid this post a tearful farewell as it falls off the list, I have added a link to it in the current 2nd Chance Clearinghouse post.
November 17, 2008 12:33 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thanks TT.
Funny, 90% of my posts get the same number of Rec's. Offers a pretty good measure of how many loons are in the TPM house I guess. (Roughly 18-23. Not sure enough to pull off the coup we were planning.) (But enough to at least get some Jimi into the mix!)
November 17, 2008 2:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
Birds of a feather must freak together!
November 17, 2008 4:31 PM | Reply | Permalink