Beside the Pool, a Chimera (Dream Journal 5/93)
I dream that I am flying. Well, not exactly flying. ItÍs more like bounding. Somewhat like a kangaroo. But, there is a difference. Just before landing, I can exert a concentrated burst of will, and, I hover. Yes, hover, over the spot where I will soon touch down. Sometimes, it last for seconds. ItÍs the most exhilarating rush I have ever experience; but, when I wake, disappointment devastates me. My whole being is overtaken with gloom and despair. My doctor prescribed anti-depressants; but, I threw them away, preferring to live with the gloom rather than risk never again experiencing the rush.
My friend Aaron believes that I am suffering from Agoraphobia. So, he contrives invitations to come across the bay and join him for dinner or a movie. Last week we had coffee in Justice Herman Square. All too public. He was surprised to see how well I handled being out in the open. Of course, I handled it. We sat under some trees next to the building. And, Bart was just two blocks away. A trusted escape whenever necessary.
So, how do I survive? Well, first, I take to my bed (a nineteenth century remedy used by my mother and grandmother) with a bottle of very good old sherry; and then, I dream myself into the next century. I look in a mirror tinted a silver blue, or a window whose pane distorts on the diagonal, or a pool of immeasurable depth; and behind the revealed reflection of gray hair and moon face, I see a laughing look, so long forgotten: my thirty-four year old self, my mind, not yet, lost in a dark endless tunnel. I try to fly; but, I still can not.
The escape is tolerable, however. Because here, there is no female monster, there is no horrid unreal creature of the imagination, there is no high toll to pay for liberty. No aged creature is shunned. Here, there are no delusions. Here, there is only the vision and me--a vision, fire breathing and powerful, fused into one--a Chimera. Goat! Lion! Serpent! All myth exploded in that singular creature. I claim and tenderly succor my aspirations and desires. I reject the efforts of Bellerophon. There will be no slaying tonight.
Suddenly, by the pool, I shed my tail, my mane, my horns, and I dream that I am flying to the moon. Now, it is more than a bound. Rising up from my long sleep--the ascent is slow--with eyes wide open, bare feet dangle below my nightgown, hair flutters in the slight breeze; soaring high above the earth, I dance to no music whatsoever. In that moment, I panic, thinking, "I have only seconds."
But, something different happens in this dream. Ahead of me the pale, pale moon beckons, and a woman's laughter rings out from one of a hundred darken craters, "Come now, and let us dream it true." Unexpected, but delightful. It is a voice, not motherly, but sweet, one that I can trust. I know, now, that if I care to, I can fly forever hovering here and there. I decide to search from crater to crater following the laughter, and, resist the lure beneath me of the blue planet.
Continuemos la lucha!!