Battling Hope
I had a dream last night that I was having an anxiety attack. My chest felt as though there was a large rock inside it. This rock, though large, weighed greater than its size implied. It was a two-hand rock that weighted ten hands. Right in the center of this rock processed a great pain. This pain had thickness and depth, yet it remained contained in its own universe. Another rock was on the outer part of my chest between my breasts. It was smaller in size than the inner rock. The outer rock’s experienced a gradual gravitational pull toward the pain universe within the inner rock. The pull was continual yet had a sense of unendingness. It was an abyss that had a sense of growth but never reached greater nor greatest. In this dream, I reached for the phone. Not to call emergency medical assistance but to call my friends. I said to them, “I am having an anxiety attack.” Those were the words. Not that I was afraid nor did I attempt to describe the symptoms that I was suffering. My next words to them were, “Come see what an anxiety attack looks like.” Soon my mother, my sister, my friends and a few other faces were before me. I had their full attention. Their faces plain and unspeaking, a matter of fact even. I said to them, “This is what I look like.”
Suddenly, I am awake. All that remained were the stones, and I was alone.
For many days, the sun broke the horizon. Each day I planted my feet on the ground and chiseled on a smile. I went high. I went low. All day long, “Yes, madam.” and “Yes, sir.”
The hour of slumber had approached. I did not want to let go of the day. I hadn’t done enough. There is still something that I can do. Something?
Not soon after my head rested on the pillow and the darkness enveloped behind my eyes am I asleep. I am once again paralyzed in my chamber by the two rocks. My dream voice cried out for someone, anyone to see.
A figure settled on beside me. He began to speak. “Who is it around and about you who lays up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul. One rock is shame. The other is hope. The pressure is fear.”
“Sit still so that you do not affect the force of what I have to say. Little one, you cast out these lines. One end is loose and free. Yet you hold tight to the other ends. Gnarled fists full of painful feelings of humiliation or distress entangle one end of the line. Suddenly, the tendons of your arms began to gnarl with some sort of consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior. Then you let loose the end that had now become intertwined in your soul.”
“So, Am I supposed to continue to hold on, despite the pain”, I asked.
The figure continues, “This is not an indictment. Hold on. Let go. Either is correct. People hold on or let go because of faulty thinking. Or should I say a faulty consciousness. Stop thinking.
Survival of the cerebral patterns of the brain organism therefore could not eliminate the self-preserving thoughts of the thinker and therefore can not be occupied with the greater good.
God as the supreme Good is the only moral righteousness.
