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At 4 a.m. this morning I awoke from a dream.
I was dreaming that I had been chosen to help a team of scientists who had created a system of tunnels several miles below the surface of the earth. One of the scientists took me down to the first exploration level, itself about a mile down. It was a rather long elevator ride, in a rather basic elevator. I had time to think about the dangers, about the dependability of the electrical system, the ventilation system, the fact that if something shorted out, I would be stuck in pitch darkness. I was curiously unafraid of my standing, suspended by this fragile lifeline. I thought I should at least be feeling claustrophobic, but I couldn't manage to worry about it.
After we finally reached the first level, I got out and looked around. There were hanging lights and extension cords everywhere, lighting up what was essentially a barren hall, with nothing living except the scientists, myself, and a few spiders here and there. I wondered why there were spiders, but assumed that the scientists must have brought them along, either knowingly for some experiments, or unknowingly, stowed away in the equipment.
My job there, was to divine things that the scientists could not, to intuit data that could not be measured by their devices. Frankly, I was getting nothing. Without the lights and the hum of the equipment, this would be a place completely devoid of light and sound, just a barren area of no intellectual value.
Then I woke up, it was 4 a.m. I had fallen asleep earlier than usual, so I figured I'd go ahead and start the day. I went into the kitchen and turned on the radio. The BBC was on, and the program had to do with silence. The reporter was talking about places you could go to be quiet and think, retreats both physical and spiritual. Buddhism was mentioned, a religion of which I'm particularly fond. The Buddhist he was speaking to was describing the self as an onion, and the act of peeling off layers of distraction to get to the core being. This of course forced me to reflect on the possible meaning of my dream.
Was my plumbing the depths of the earth synonymous with my search for my core self? If so, did the barrenness of the inner landscape indicate that I am, at my core, simply a structure on which to hang the baubles of personality? Is the search for a deeper meaning ultimately fruitless?
From time to time, when I am deluging myself with heady thoughts, I like to stop and try to sum up my endeavor with a sentence. This is the sentence that sprung from my mind on this occasion:
Am I boring into the inner recesses of my self... or am I just boring in general?
At that, I chuckled and poured my coffee. I have a feeling it will be a good day.
I was dreaming that I had been chosen to help a team of scientists who had created a system of tunnels several miles below the surface of the earth. One of the scientists took me down to the first exploration level, itself about a mile down. It was a rather long elevator ride, in a rather basic elevator. I had time to think about the dangers, about the dependability of the electrical system, the ventilation system, the fact that if something shorted out, I would be stuck in pitch darkness. I was curiously unafraid of my standing, suspended by this fragile lifeline. I thought I should at least be feeling claustrophobic, but I couldn't manage to worry about it.
After we finally reached the first level, I got out and looked around. There were hanging lights and extension cords everywhere, lighting up what was essentially a barren hall, with nothing living except the scientists, myself, and a few spiders here and there. I wondered why there were spiders, but assumed that the scientists must have brought them along, either knowingly for some experiments, or unknowingly, stowed away in the equipment.
My job there, was to divine things that the scientists could not, to intuit data that could not be measured by their devices. Frankly, I was getting nothing. Without the lights and the hum of the equipment, this would be a place completely devoid of light and sound, just a barren area of no intellectual value.
Then I woke up, it was 4 a.m. I had fallen asleep earlier than usual, so I figured I'd go ahead and start the day. I went into the kitchen and turned on the radio. The BBC was on, and the program had to do with silence. The reporter was talking about places you could go to be quiet and think, retreats both physical and spiritual. Buddhism was mentioned, a religion of which I'm particularly fond. The Buddhist he was speaking to was describing the self as an onion, and the act of peeling off layers of distraction to get to the core being. This of course forced me to reflect on the possible meaning of my dream.
Was my plumbing the depths of the earth synonymous with my search for my core self? If so, did the barrenness of the inner landscape indicate that I am, at my core, simply a structure on which to hang the baubles of personality? Is the search for a deeper meaning ultimately fruitless?
From time to time, when I am deluging myself with heady thoughts, I like to stop and try to sum up my endeavor with a sentence. This is the sentence that sprung from my mind on this occasion:
Am I boring into the inner recesses of my self... or am I just boring in general?
At that, I chuckled and poured my coffee. I have a feeling it will be a good day.
