Good morning sweet little one. To ponder, again, as my eyes open to the morning, all that is around me, touched, felt, seen, heard and tasted. To ponder that no thing around me existed at creation, and yet, it did. Every thing I see existed in its essence, but unmanifested in the form I see today. The form today is the creation from a dream. A dream that if this and that are brought together a new creation exists. Because of a dream my fingers touch a switch and there is light before the sun rises. Because of a dream the fruits and blossoms of plants and trees, now gift the coffee I drink, the clothes on my body, this paper and pen, and the little couch upon which I sit.
And yet, even these things are not the same as originally dreamed. Even the skills, machines and technology which manifested the dreams are not the same expression as when they were dreamed into being. All have changed over the years. The dream was dreamed. Everything about me existed, awaiting the form it is now. I ask the couch, the cup holding my coffee, the paper and pen, the computer and light – this is you now as someone dreamed…. What will you be when the dream is dreamed?
My heart sighs to think of the dreams that have brought destruction, hate, death and separation. The dreams that see not creation but the annihilation and servitude of others’ dreams, including nature’s dreams. Perhaps the question that should be asked of dreams is whether the dream allows another to dream? Does my dream create the soil in which others dreams may flourish, manifest and be? Does my dream create boundaries, exclude or define what others may dream? Does my dream honor balance and draw deep the roots of gratitude and love? Does my dream nurture mornings for all so that their eyes may open and see?
I AM a dreamed dream. I am a dream dreamed in the heart of creation. Would I try to keep the eyes of Creation closed and not allow them to open and see? Or will I, this day, choose to allow the dreamed dream to BE? Everything I do, say, feel or believe about me either allows the eyes of Creation to open this day or remain closed. Will I, in fear, hate, ego and disbelief that I am a dream dreamed, hold my hands over Creation’s eyes and say “Sleep, awake not again. Your dream dreamed shall not be.” How often I have prayed in sorrow and pain, “Take this cup from me.” How often I have prayed not seeing the dream dreamed and Creation pouring from an infinite fountain the sweet nectar of life, love, joy and abundance into this cup.
Oh sweet morning, may I be so bold as to open my eyes and shout to the world, to life and love, to all that is
“Fill this cup now! Let me drink the dream dreamed!”