Sunday, 13 January 2013

My waking dream

Rain incredible pouring rain. But not like pouring. It is a consistent vertically downward shower, even everywhere as far the eye can see. The  world looks like it sis being cleaned, but this is not the world. There are platforms, square platforms about 1.1m x 1.1. What are they made of? I do not know, wood maybe? I rise from the water, my heads bursts through the surface. I take that first breath and my mouth tastes the sweet rain and inhales the sweet air. I can hear myself puffing. not urgently but peacefully like I have been doing deep breathing. My eyes are closed as I take those first breaths. My arms, I do not reach out of the water but let float either side of me on the surface of the water. The water is the colour of the rain in the air, a light grey. I hear my breath first. Loud and reassuring. Then I hear the rain. The most beautiful symphony allowed to be hear by our natural ears. I suppose others would call it deafening  Light it seems to me. Because the only thing it is hitting is the water, not roofs of any sort or windows. I do not think I can describe the sound of of rain. Like a gentle waterfall? Our thoughts of it are corrupted by our 'mastery' over it. There is no sound of thunder or wind, just the pure rain. 

I stand do not feel any ground to put my feet on. But I lengthen straight and the water is up to my lower chest, nearly my arm pits. I open my eyes and I see the world of gray water. Beside me is a platform. I see in the distance a figure who is a shadow because of the curtain of rain. Somebody huddled sitting on the surface of the water, must be another platform. I wade towards the one nearest me. I am not cold or tired. I desire not escape from the water (for that would be impossible anyway) but to see what the platform allows me to see. The water was light to move through, as if it was not a body of water at all but just very, very condensed rain that was still falling. When I reached the platform  I put both palms down flat either side of me and pushed. It seemed the water pushed too, it had more uplift. I easily swung my legs onto the platform. I did not stand, I sat on the platform though I do not know what my posture was. I do not feel like I have left the water, if there is a difference it is small, perhaps I do not notice no longer being wet. The platform does allow me sight. The platform nearest to me is about eight or ten metres away. I lift my head and the figure is visible. Zhuangzi. 

He is sitting, as splayed out as if he was lying. He moustache and beard are exactly has we depict those in Ancient China. He is calm (naturally) as if he has been sitting there for many years, or if time does not exist in this place. The rain continues, he looks through it at me. He does not move once. But he speaks to me as he looks. I do not know how to transcribe this silent language. At some stage, I notice at greater distances are other figures. Distance of twenty and fifty and a hundred metres. I notice about six in this area, there might be more that I can not see, or have not been allowed to see yet. The ones around me I can see, some have figures and some do not. Who are they? Perhaps one is Xunzi, or Laozi. The others I have no idea. I have not been allowed to see them yet. Zhuangzi gives me a final instruction and returns to his, not sleep, personal thinking and calm. He looks away from me and return to himself not looking at anything. I know he has not forgotten me though. And I follow his instruction. I too, stop trying to observe. I breath in the air and the rain again and I settle onto my platform and relax.  My deep, deep breaths come again. 

1 comment:

  1. To something like the rain from this world...