In My Dreaming
I am on the way to the sleep clinic to find out why I stop breathing in my sleep.
Perhaps as we mulled over this morning it is a long time challenge that I was unconsciously aware of. Like PTSD creeping forward like a rabid dog hungry for food it seems my sleeping state violated now carrying forward into this nightmare of a conscious world.
I awoke this morning mumbling calculations to a post world mathematical problem. It was a place filled with contradictions, ambiguity and cyborgs all clamouring for a stake in a Frankenstein freak show.
I was dreaming at least but they are dreams that I have never had before in new patterns like shadows breaking up a staircase.
The patter of my heart still pushing flutters that prior I’d ignored as anxiety or coffee stains on a sleepless soul. A conscious pulse in my temples.
In some ways I prided myself on four hours sleep every 24. What it seems likely now is that my dreaming is now in my living state.
That they have become one, not separate states as a western consumer laden showroom would sell as separate goods. As Nyikina Elder, Paddy Roe would attest, we dream our life before us and we walk in our dreaming.
As my Aboriginal mothers, my kooya spoke into me only months ago, to draw down and face with a renewed peace, madjulla mud in hand, billabong in the other.
If I am to choose living now it will have to be with awareness that I am in my dreaming. My state of being is no longer as two states rather one that is an extension of the other.
Perhaps thats why there were recently a flock of fiery tailed finches in the garden, hidden in the foliage yet raucously showering the morning with cries I had not heard before. A troop of garawai (sulphur crested cockatoos) savaging the front lawn with their vice like beaks.
Perhaps knowingly nature has an uncanny way of reminding us that our dream state is manifest whether we are walking upright or floating through. That in the form of the bird that there is its shadow, one and the same.