Renewing the Mind

Weird dream

Hi.

So it's been almost a year since my last post. So much for my great blogging idea. But even abandoned projects live on here on the web, patiently waiting to be picked up again, like the Velveteen Rabbit. Except that nothing degrades or wears out in cyberspace. What a miracle.

So I may pick up on the wealth theme from my last post later. Certainly I've learned a lot in this past year which will tweak my positions somewhat. But right now I need to write because of this dream I had this morning. I always remember morning dreams better--the ones you have when you get to sleep in, and you wake up early, but then go back to sleep for about an hour--those dreams.

In this dream I was in a foyer somewhere of a large building, kind of church-like--waiting to go into the auditorium. I was standing with a black woman, who I was connected to in some way, can't remember why. She confided in me that she felt like when she was with her white husband (who wasn't me) she felt pressure to show him around, introduce him to people, etc. I said something to the effect that my ex-girlfriend felt the same way (though in real life, I have no idea that she ever felt that way), and we went into the auditorium.

However, the next thing I remember, I'm back out in the (rather large) foyer, and dining tables are being set out. I see Sonam, an older Tibetan man whom I work with (in real life), and at some point I am given a map, and I'm happy because I enjoy looking at maps, so I open the map (can't remember what place it showed) and look at it with Sonam, pointing out places, having an OK time.

Then, somehow I notice my friend Zadok, and other people who I vaguely recognize, mostly friends from Quest. Frank, I think also. Without much conversation, Zadok launches into some slow motion mime. (Don't worry, no mime outfit, just normal attire), as do others my age, and I get this odd uncomfortable feeling that I'm supposed to be doing that too. But I don't.

The middle part of the dream is very hazy. There is a downstairs where others are hanging out, the foyer transforms into some larger location where people are gathering, eating, drinking, playing, whatever. Again, I sense that I am supposed to be participating, but I don't want to. I just want to be left alone.

Next thing I know, the action centers around a large table. It's white, the kind you see in cafeterias. There is some kind of wrapping up, then a few start cleaning up. At one point, I help a guy about my age do some sweeping, some picking up food off the floor.

Then, I reach for some bread, and bite a piece off. Evidently, I drop some crumbs because the man who is cleaning stands up at me and is irate. It's Ben Bruggemeier, someone I played drums with in high school. He (in real life) was always the incredibly popular, did-everything kind of guy, sports, music, friends, the guy who I was friends with but always lived very definitely in his shadow. Anyway, he demands to know what I'm doing, don't I realize the place needs to be cleaned up, I don't care, I'm not involved, blah blah blah.

Then his father shows up, and the berating continues (his father was the choir director at my high school, kind of a high school dynasty scenario). He adds that not only was I irresponsible by not cleaning up, why haven't I been putting posters out for the event. I maintain that I haven't heard of the posters, and didn't know what he was talking about, but pretty much everyone else present did. I looked over and saw a stack of posters, advertising this Young Life fundraising extravaganza that I had evidently just been present at. Mr. Bruggemeier kept dressing me down in front of everyone, saying that if I had done my part in putting up posters they could have had a lot more people. Then they asked what I was thinking, why I hadn't done anything to help or participate. I said something about how we had very different expectations, and needed to find a way to make our expectations clear to each other. All those present murmured some kind of agreement.

I do remember, then, starting to sweep and clean. I grabbed another piece of bread, partly out of spite, I think. My friend Sam told me that we could still get out of there and go to the other party later. And the interior setting transformed into a park (settings often change quickly in my dreams), so I was sweeping food off the lawn, picking up toys, putting them in bags for the next gathering, determined to do something to do my part. My friends were all gone, everyone else had left, just this giant job to do.

Then people started gathering for the evening fund raiser. Mostly my age or younger, and I got the sense they were all volunteers (and had probably done their job of distributing posters). The crowd of volunteers seemed larger than the entire crowd at the earlier gathering. So I decided that if I cleaned up well enough, I would allow myself to leave. It seemed to be in good hands. Then I woke up.


So wow. This took a lot longer to write than it did to dream. And how much of this is 'really' what I dreamed, and how much is me trying to impose more order than there actually was, adjusting details so they make more sense to a reader, what in this narrative is actually the dream, and what is my representation? How much has my act of writing this actually adjusted my memories of my dream, so when I think about it again, I'll be thinking of the manufactured memories that I have made while trying to write this?

There is something in the above paragraph that says a lot, I think, about story, about relating story, about the way in which we re-construct reality when we tell something, so that it always changes just a little bit in the telling. Even if there is no intent to deceive. I think there's a lot to be said there in terms of reading and writing history, questions of accuracy, and more specifically, how we trust the Bible as history (I'm a Christian, for those of you brand new to this blog). But I digress, big time.

Why is this dream important to me? It encapsulated, more than any other dream in recent memory, this constant worry I have about being too disengaged with life. The party is going on around me, people are doing their part, important work is being done, people are prepared, and I walk through as a spectator, mildly guilty that I am not in the thick of it, but too scared and too self-indulgent to actually plunge in. Maybe the best I can do is help try to serve in some small way when the action has passed.

So it appears I have internalized the criticism of the Bruggemeiers in my dream. I often protest that I don't understand the expectations, but isn't that lack of understanding just a function of how I disengage in the first place? If I engaged more, I would understand more what is expected.

I feel like a tourist in life. I am most comfortable as a tourist. I look, I wander, I read, I observe the work of other people's hands. I can disengage and go back to the proverbial hotel room whenever I feel like it. I move from community to community, from commitment to commitment, always ready to leave after one year, two, or at the most three. There is always a legitimate reason to move on, always something comes up where I truly believe God has guided my steps to the next place. But that re-direction always feels comfortable, because then I can start to disengage, not worry so much about sticking with a community for the long term, mostly I feel absolved of too much responsibility. And I like that feeling.

And I'm not sure what to do about it. I am not proud of this aspect of myself. I admire people who do engage, who do commit and make things happen, who are used by God to transform the world around us. I see myself as outside of that. I'm not sure if that's right, but that's how I feel. I feel I am wandering around the party, blissfully ignorant of what it takes to make it happen, stubborn and resentful when someone dares to suggest that I have been avoiding my responsibilities.

What will it take to really change? How much do I need to really change? Is this interpretation of myself really accurate? Do I offer something else to the world, just not in accordance with the ususal script the world provides--accomplishment, achievement, success?

posted by dan @ 10:24 AM