Monday, November 12, 2007

Nameless Man

I've never paid much attention to my dreams. Usually I don't remember them. I discount people who share their dreams. Now I'm going to inflict my dream on anyone who stumbles by here.

This dream has happened enough times to make me wonder. The scenes are usually different, the characters seem to be family or members of AA. There is a man in these dreams and he's in almost all the scenes and he is unknown to me. I don't like this character, I resent him at times, strive to let go of him, not give him space in my head. He doesn't go away. I ask him to leave, I act angry towards him, I ignore him, I talk about him with others in front of him, I insult him, I act nice to him, I try many many things in my dream to get him out of the scene. Out of the car, off the beach, out of the room, the meeting, the house, the deck, the trail, where I and he are together. He won't go away. I awaken, realize it's a dream, feeling happy in doing so, and don't think about it again, it's just a dream. This morning, when I awoke after having it again, I thought I should pay attention, maybe this unknown man is trying to teach me something.

I cannot integrate this man into my dreams in any way that feels comfortable. As I wrote the previous sentence I realize that comfort is something I have always sought. A sense of ease. Comfortable. Just reading the word feels nice. Put that word ahead of people, work, life, food, drink, and all seems better. My life has been of wanting things my way. Different than they that I might have comfort.

There is no way to make that dream comfortable. That unknown man could be many things. Myself, my Higher Power, or just what it is, an unknown man.

I've been writing a lot about fear and acceptance. My journal entries are full of such meditations. I struggle daily with such thoughts. Apparently, even in my dreams.

I read this tonight, what Bill W. wrote in a March 1962 grapevine:

We admitted we couldn't lick alcohol with our own remaining resources, and so we accepted the further fact that dependence upon a Higher Power (if only our AA group) could do this hitherto impossible job. The moment we were able to accept these facts fully, our release from the alcohol compulsion had begun.

For most of us, this pair of acceptances had required a lot of exertion to achieve. Our whole treasured philosophy of self-sufficiency had to be cast aside. This had not been done with sheer will power; it came instead as a result of developing the willingness to accept these new facts of living.

We neither ran nor fought. But accept we did. And then we began to be free.

Neither ran nor fought. -- Thank you.

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