Dreams, ennui, spring

I had a twinge of ennui this morning.  Restless, irritable, discontent and fear are the signs of self will run riot, lack of gratitude, half filled glass thinking, negativity.  

I dreamed of my mystical happy safe place. It was first in the harbour watching Tom pilot the SV Giri out of a scrum of boats that had impeded it’s departure. I was on the dock and didn’t need to go .  The harbour was packed with boats. I enjoyed seeing mine free and knowing that I could get on it and continue out to the ocean and around the peninsula to parts unknown.  My own personal escape pod.

I walked up to the conference centre where many people mingled about at the great meeting in the sky. The hill wasn’t steep. It was like Greece.  Mediterranean.  The white walls and people dressed in sandals, cotton slacks, light shirts.  The washroom was clean and I didn’t experience the shame of a filthy toilet like ones I encountered in South Asia and airports. There was a pristine quality to the place.  I had rooms that overlooked the sea but no piles of clothes and equipment.  There was a service going on and I joined in for a while sitting with other listening to a symphony and sermon.  It was a lecture more than admonition.  Informative. Sharing.  People were light and kind hearted.  

Then I was in the hills and ravine with my truck I’d parked in a glen before hiking with my rifle. There were moose and other wild animals appearing in the bushes and trees.  I wasn’t alone.   A group of three hunters had shot a miniature moose and were butchering it. I hadn’t shot anything yet but asked had told a fellow hunter of shooting a moose at 300 yards once and the deer at 600 yards.  I was a lone this night though earlier in the week my little dog was with me and on the weekend I’d met up with Laura in the halls.  

I think it’s an amalgam of university, travel, hunting, and meetings.  My heaven. 

I am loathe to leave it in the morning.  I return to this world to the demand of the clock, work by the hour, anxiety about inflation, government corruption , health.  

My little dog rests his head on my neck.  The alarm sounds with the creed.  God is great all of the time. I’m thankful for this day and this life.  My monkey mind goes to the impatience with the camper waiting for moulding parts to complete the repair, the lawyer who hasn’t paid me from last year, thousands owed, the concern about more dues payments required, anxiety about learning to drive and pull a big trailer.  The thought of stowing andd cleaning the clutter. The daunting task of reducing the storage locker. The boat that waits for sale or use.

It’s spring. Yesterday was the official day.  I had my nails painted black on the weekend with Laura.  It was a costly weekend. I worry about spending. I fear retirement and risking costs. The cost of living in Vancouver and the lower mainland is obscene.  I don’t belong here.  I’m middle class at best financially and the West coast has devolved into the medieval age of rich and poor, elite and peasants.  I’m too old to become a criminal and weary of being a wage slave.  Of course my back hurts. 

Yet I’m freed of one more of the enemies who count of Monte Christo harmed me taking advantage of my innocence and being mean spirited, selfish.  There’s a connection in all of them to drugs and alcohol and Crawley. The satanic sulphur scent lingers in the memory and history.

I fear I’ve lived a lot of my life with ‘identification with the aggressor’.  If you can’t beat them join them. What I don’t like or fear I become .  I experience the need for camouflage. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I’m reminded of my adolescents nights of flying dreams and the mobs chasing beneath me. I’m reminded of the beings of light of my adolescence, encounters with angels, all that paranormal experience of the early teens before sex , alcohol and drugs. Later LSD would have me connected with all and everything. I sing the body electric.  Then meditation and prayer.

Now I afraid of fear for it seems to attract that which I’m afraid of to me. Yet God is good all of the time and I know I’m one.  

I’m still critical of the Corrupt and Evil PM .  I have this weakness.  I think people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.  I join with the group against the WEF and UN take over.  I feared censorship and communist totalitarianism and yet here it is. I am set to be free of this place as the jack boots sounds in the near future , Communist Chinese Police squads killing Tibetan monks and spreading their filth and shit everywhere.  

I don’t want a revolution.  I want the tyranny to stop.  But I identify with the aggressor.  I miss the library and books and writing, the canoe and bicycle.  I like my Vespa and Mini. I like my folding boat and electric engine. I’m working well back within my bounds when of course I can cross oceans in hurricanes and ride motorcycles on the edge of twisters.  Ive restricted myself to recovery, healing, growing strong again.  

We’ve all been cocooned by covid and lockdowns,  I’ve survived the loneliness again . I’m isolated like a monk but need to continue forward. I wanted to take another theological or writing course.  Camping is soon. 

I’m praying to God always for direction and guidance and the power do God’s will. 

Thank you Jesus.