A Dream within a Dream

A Dream within a Dream: The movie of our lives. I had NO IDEA, when I wrote the memorial day post...(following this one)...that in the meantime, I would have re-connected with a friend from elementary school! Maybe it's my age...my chronological, human age that acts as a catapult into memories of the past. I'm not sure. But certainly...the memory manifested in real time. What a surprising treat. These days so many of us are trying to make sense of our histories...and discerning how, exactly why we are... WHO we are NOW. Is it a sign of the times...as many of us are talking about Past/Present/Future happening ALL NOW...that being 12 years old seems SO far away...and yet...'it seems like just yesterday'? THEORY: we might feel that ... we came here to this world with a CORE reality, already set in place...and our life experience is just a tool to help us unfold what IS already. The CORE has many layers like an onion... and as we...live in linear time......what peels away are made up of our choices. What falls away is what we decide to do and not to do. The marriages we have or do not have. The people we meet and those who we walk past, without a glance. But in the midst of all those seemingly random acts of living... does the core of who we are ever really change? Do we come in with a PLOT...with the script being totally up to us? Is Free Will relevant only to a .......point? (some of you might remember my writing on "Destiny Points". Destiny points, my phrase to describe those moments in time, some call DEJA-VU that I suggested may be tiny dots in a maze of occurrences that jolt us.. to let us know that we are touching upon something that we are SO meant to do...see..participate in. Reminders that we are in the right place at the right time...for whatever reason, we may NEVER know...but it's like a Past/Present/Future GPS system for our own personal use. It gets our attention...alerting us: "You're on the right track.") If you really want to be confused, I suggest seeing a movie, written and directed by Anthony Hopkins called "SLIPSTREAM". He also stars in this 'stream of consciousness' endeavor...that will take you for a wild ride, if you dare. One of the SPECIAL FEATURES on the DVD is an interview with him. When asked why he wrote/planned/expressed the ideas in the movie in this creative/non-linear/non-traditional way...he answered more than once: "Just to annoy them (the actors/audience)..." and when comparing real LIFE to the movie he mentioned a Poe line that is used in the script..."It's a dream within a dream" Appropriately...it's MID-SUMMER. The mundane world says this is the Beginning of summer. But, listen......Shakespeare knew what he was talking about...MIDSUMMER Night's DREAM is based on the Summer Solstice celebration, when all the veils are very thin and communication between the dimensions becomes easier. Personally, for me... the veils have always been thin :-), and more people are understanding that moving in and out of realities is NOT such a crazy and difficult endeavor. After all, what IS a memory...anyway? After he passed, my good Friend Sam told me not to be so upset that he was not HERE on earth anymore..."It's all just a dream", he said. He and Anthony Hopkins would get along well, I think. When asked about the reactions from the public and professionals regarding "Slipstream", A.H. said with conviction..."What are they getting so upset about...it's just a movie". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Post-Memorial Day POST: (5/25/09) The week of Memorial day, 1966, my 6th grade class performed a skit to commemorate all the men and women who had served our country. Nothing unusual in that...except, it became a day I would remember for a long time...for a entirely different reason. I had hoped by the time my 6th grade tour was to start...that the rumors about the 6th grade teacher would be old news. And that we would experience the new and improved Miss Skyler, who had a history......magically transformed simply by the sacrament of marriage that she had participated that summer. Her name was Mrs. Kaestner now. Unfortunately...that was the only thing that changed. She was plain and quite unattractive...and even though she would wear bright colors and "cool" patterns...she always looked dowdy. She wore her hair in ringlets...the kind that just 'happen' when you take your out of the rollers or pincurls...before you style it. Which she didn't...and I wondered why she chose to never put a comb through it. I had always been a good student...and was always liked by my teachers...so I stayed optimistic and open minded...but soon lost all hope and each day I sat in class I wondered why on earth she became a teacher since she apparently detested children. ( I had the same feeling about a couple of nuns that I attended "catechism" with as well. But that's another story) I don't remember ever hearing her say one uplifting thing to anyone...and each comment she made was filled with a very adult-like sarcasm. So anyway...the skit. Just as of one of my classmates was reading from a script...about the fallen soldiers....Mrs. Kaestner broke into tears. We were dumbfounded. All we could do was sit for the minute or two she tried to pull herself together while she sobbed. Finally she said...all broken up and childlike, "I'm sorry, but I had a very nice cousin that I miss very much". She then ran out of the classroom to gather herself. And when she returned...sat through the rest of the skit...and then dismissed us for recess. Of course...the playground was a'buzzin. Most of the kids gossiped with glee about how our mean, old (she was in her thirties...jeesh), hard ball teacher broke into hysterical tears. A couple of the kids went off and played a game of some kind.....did not talk about the incident at all. I walked around watching and listening. I wondered when she lost her cousin and in which war. We were in the throes of Vietnam. This could have been a new wound...oozing with grief. Or maybe it was an old Korean scar...covered up with bright paisley dresses and sarcasm. "Had she been a casualty of war since she was our age?", I wondered. I would never find out. She never explained anything further. And who was I to ask? That would have been too scary, anyway, to ask I mean. Even though she never did change...at least not during the remaining 2 months MY 6th grade class, I did see her in a different light after the incident. I would even say that in my 11 year old mind...I had an understanding on some level, that if she holds this sadness so deep inside, that it bursts out when you least expect it...while all the rest of time she is a merciless militant...then... what else in there? But..I was glad as HELL to get out of that class... I may have felt some compassion, but I was not crazy. I had had enough. We were released into 7th grade and I think we all took a sigh of relief. The following February my father died. When I returned to the funeral home...after a break I took with a member of my family...I heard from my sister that two of my old teachers had come pay their respects. One was Miss Schultz, my favorite teacher of all time. Every second grader in the school prayed and hoped that she would be their 3rd grade teacher. She was bright and had a smile on her face all the time. Mrs. Kaestner was with her...and she was crying. 'Crying a lot', I heard from my mother who had talked to them for a few minutes. And I missed it. I felt like I missed another opportunity to see her in human/civilian form. Even in the midst of my own grief...I found the idea fascinating. When I returned to school some weeks later...she would pass me in the hallway at school, never saying a word ...or even looking my way. I have wondered what happened to her after I left that school only a few months later. 'Did she ever style her hair...did her taste in fashion change with the times... did she have children of her own... does she still cry on memorial day?' Well. that was then. And thank goodness, I gave up trying to figure people out a long time ago. Yeeeaaaaahhhh........riiight. ***************************************