** Dreaming together – my first experiment ** Long ago, when email was still new, I sent a reprint request to a professor in Nashville. He replied immediately, and over time, we became friends, writing to and fro, several times a day. I was excited, because although I was in Vienna, and he in the US, we could share our written words within seconds. We established a deep bond. My first email from him I always got in the morning, and only started to wonder when a friend remarked what time my morning was in the US, and that he must be at university that time, in the middle of the night, already (that was long before internet at home). I asked him, and he said, “Yes, Ille, I go to university at three am every day. Cannot sleep longer. When I was young, we were poor, and the whole family slept together in a small trailer. Every night, at about that time, my father was doing bad things to my mum. We kids had to watch. My brother got crazy, my sister committed suicide, and I am the only one left. My remnant from that time is that I cannot sleep past three am. If I do, I have recurring dreams of what was going on that time, and they drive me insane. I rather go to my lab and work – and write to you”. Hearing this, I started to read up on dreams. And on dreaming together, the same dream, across space. Came up with a dream to help him, and we started our training. After about one month, we had the big day. Dreamt the healing dream together, and he could sleep through the night from then on. But I felt that this was not enough. We also had to do something in real life. Went to visit him, and we drove to the place in Hollywood, Florida, where the trailer used to stand. As if the universe wanted to make things hard for us, we had a flat tire, we missed the way several times, but finally, we arrived there, after hours and hours circling in on the place. All rectangular street crossings (weird for me European), all full with houses, cars, life. All? No. There was one square spot that looked like from another world, between four streets, with a fence and signs saying “KEEP OUT”. Huge mangroves growing in there, densely. We crossed the fence; we entered the wild place. We saw a ginger cat, a big ginger cat, sitting on one of the branches, watching us with big eyes. Deep inside, when we had no view of the street anymore, and all was damp, hot, and full with mosquitoes, we saw remnants of showers, of sinks, broken tiles. All overgrown with thick mangroves. And then, we saw the trailers. For more than 50 years they had been sitting there, slowly rotting away. I do not know if we saw the specific trailer he lived in. I do not know much about what he felt, he was all tears, and wetted his pants, and I had to hold him, so that he did not fall down. I recommended him to buy the place, and turn it into a playground for kids, or an orphanage, or something else that is good. Do not know if he ever did. We met later again, several times, but never talked about it much. But he can sleep now through the night without nightmares - and this is what’s important.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 08:40:11 +0000