A Dream
The other night I had a wonderfully inspirational dream. I usually don't get into the spiritual warm fuzzy ideas, this is why I feel that this dream is something I must share with others. This dream inspired me and hopefully will give someone else the will power to persevere through the rough times.
I was walking through the streets of a non-descriptive city, much like any large American city with shopping stores galore and the hustle bustle that typically describes the modern capitalistic society that we have become accustomed to. The cheesy music, blasting the ads through overdriven speakers, filling the air with audio garbage, engulfed me. I could barely think to myself, let alone understand the message behind the ads. I have gotten to the point that if I hear of an ad this way, I will immediately start to boycott the product. Don't ram the crap down my throat, I want to be subtlety seduced into buying the crap.
I made my way through the audio bombardment only to have another equally offensive attack to encounter. The visual stimulation of neon lights, pulsating to their own insipid beat, saturated my vision. Orange, blue, red, and nauseating pink filled my sight, creating a drug induced Christmas reminiscent of the hippie sixties.
This insane imagery polluted the audio and visual atmosphere. The anger and desperation grew inside of me, building up to the breaking point. I was now utterly disgusted with my fellow man. The cheap, capitalistic w****s that each of us have become. The manic fervor to have the latest gadget, the fastest processor, and the largest hard drive, building the pressure inside. I began to scowl at each person that I passed.
I continued through the streets passing all the rest of the ants in this colony of superficiality. I drifted off thinking of other items. The issues at work. The personnel conflicts I had to resolve between members of my staff. The upcoming project that I knew I was not prepared for. I continued through the masses, past stores and cafés, never paying attention to the sites nor the people I passed. The city was cold and damp, reptilian without feeling. No one was alive, zombies going about their ant existence.
As I rounded the corner, I came upon a distressing scene. A father it seemed was forcing his son to play catch with him. At first sight, the son was crying, tears streaming down his face as the father held him forcing him to retrieve a rubber ball which the father was throwing against a cement wall.
This image laid upon the previous capitalistic bombardment just about pushed me over the edge. At the point where I was going to step in and pummel the overbearing father, I realized that the father was the most loving, caring, compassionate father I had ever seen.
The son, who I originally saw as being pushed into playing ball by the typical overbearing father, was enjoying himself. Typically the overbearing father, who wants himself to be an athlete, pushes his child further and further until the child does not give a damn about the sport nor the idea of being an athlete.
This was not the case at all. This incredible, loving father was helping his handicapped young one enjoy the sport in the only way he could. His father was literally throwing and catching the ball for his son. The son was now not crying tears of anger or despair, but those of wondrous joy and happiness. Now he was playing a sport in which other kids would not share with him, yet his loving father was.
This scene revived me. Joy spilled over from this small child and filled my aching heart to the point of where I was starting to tear up. The most wonderful things in life are all about us and we just need to open our hearts and minds to them. The real joy of life is not the material items that are shoved into our faces and blasted into our ears, but the fantastic compassionate spirit that resides in each of us. I will never forget this dream and will continue to look at the small details of life.
Red Loewi
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing