I had a dream

Only you,

no one needs to understand because the one who doesn’t understand isn’t real anyway…

life is a shimmering wall that we look at. The wall isn’t solid at all and neither are we. We throw rocks and sling words, we kiss and we curse and the wall keeps on shimmering as we melt slowly like ice, into the pool of her soul that we stand on scraping at the mirror of her mind. The colors remind me and the colors disguise me, the wall bends flimsy like film and the wall becomes a tunnel or a funnel depending on where we’d like to go. Don’t pretend you aren’t the one willing the sunrise or that you aren’t the one calling down the moon. Don’t pretend you didn’t create me and make me dark or make me light. These are the shadow puppets dancing on your shimmering wall and you’ve named every single one- don’t hurt me so and so, come back to me pretty lady, don’t make me do this anymore- break rocks against the solid wind. Life is a shimmering wall as we know it, infringed on upon death who is the light making it so. Death my friend, is the one with the camera watching, recording, laughing and waiting. Death made the movie and counts down til the end- when the curtain falls and the shimmering wall turns to black. Black ice of my body did I stand here too long? Did I look death in the eye or did I strangle the gods in my wall? I’ve been melting and catching myself in this cup drinking what’s left as if I didn’t know, death has of course no where else to go. Skull sinking deeper into the water I thought that I walked on, skull making faces with old skin I remember. My face isn’t there this is only the backlash, my feet aren’t attached and my legs as stumps have no branches. The leaves have all sunk into this pool of her wet dream and I’m floating like a swan looking for my lover. Life on the wall, shimmering and firm, thank god I’m so beautiful when I bend really low…

I had a dream that I was married to god, not god on high but god as a looker. Looking at me kindly and smiling, wearing a watch and laughing when I said I could roar. Then god was my friend sitting high on the stage and I, down below wasn’t separate. His face was made of half shadow/half light and I didn’t know if I was god or myself. My face, made of half shadow/half light with nothing beneath us but the red earth being pulled slowly away. God was a dream that I married and it was so real I didn’t want to wake up. Then a voice said, “loosen your grip on reality.” And my eyes opened and there was the wall, shimmering like a friendly ghost with only me to notice. I made this place and as far as I know, god is sitting on the top of the wall watching me imagine I’m dreaming. Did I mention that I was married to god and he loves telling time? Warm hearted, my warm surrender, my head on his seat waiting for the fifth day of dawn. White gloves never touched a dark place in me, loosen my grip on reality? I wonder how I might…my ideas of reality must be tight and too vivid, my ideas of reality must be more clenching than my dreams of a god more equal to me than I am to myself. I know words are a circle and the language is hidden under rocks. I know she handed me the symbol in my ear and I know he looks both ways before he crosses. You don’t have to like me or be me, you are me whether it’s real or not. When the room is dark and there’s only the flame, I look right at your semblance and your meaning to the night. Who said night wouldn’t have us just because we’d disappear- or if we need this wall and this flame and this figure to notice…to notice the singer who cries in the sunset- beating the wall just for us? Fists thrown into a glitter of black stinging ice and slivers of butterflies promising a freedom behind the rays of lost eyesight, my vision is still always of you, you high on the mountain overlooking the wall that I stare through. The wall isn’t solid, not nearly as solid as I…shimmering mind, aloof, empty and perfect behind me you sit holding death like a mask. Whose making who leave this place first? Last time I was here holding her promise, I did all that I could to unmask the mirror, of course I was loud, of course I was desperate, of course I broke everything unattached to this house. I can tell you these walls never fooled me…you were the one who brought me the water when I was thirsty from climbing so high. On the peak where you met me without any walls, it was tight, more tight than any world below that I’d already left. And the tears lie scattered below us and it seemed so funny that they’d filled a whole cup or that we could stand or drown upon her soul water. On the peak there was nowhere to sit, only stand and roar at the silence below, the silence that comes just before the explosion. On the peak I knew she always loved me and that god was the one behind it all. I knew if I could climb this wall I might bring you home with me. A funnel, a tunnel with no steps on the surface, a place where feet can’t ever go, where am I? Inside another flame of you casting my dream on the wall as a mountain? Inside the diamond’s furrow tipping sequence into the quicksand of bodies, I alone am redeemed with arms that reach as high as god….where god held his hand up and said to me, “let go” well first of all “god” if that’s really your name, can you prove to me that you’re even real? If you’re so real then where am I- and if you’re so right then that means I’m wrong? Wait don’t go, I believe you, I believe you…reality spun me way too tight and I see you’re a dreamer of heaven held high…and that these walls make more walls and the water is dirty…but if god loves us all then why are we fragments, dingy little fragments barking at broken windows and howling at the front door to the lady’s house that gives us food? If god is another mask that egomaniacs like you put on to control us then where is my god mask too? This should be a fair fight after all right? Puppets in the shadow world with only the godflame to keep them vivid and dark memories of a death before this keeps me on my toes…dark memories of his loud breath behind me waiting for the wall to collapse…I was never wrong, the light of death is hidden in her words under rocks waiting for a reader. Sound builds walls. Sound opens tunnels and funnels. All four direction split into the eightfold path of redemption. We roar as the newborn and open the gates. Flood, the great flood that we are. It’s only me, the little old lady, toothless and riddled with holes. It’s only me, perfect buddha with the lion’s golden mane, it’s only me hellraiser fanning the flame…this life is a shimmering wall of god’s lace, light streams through by the touching of death. Death who loves you, throws colors and wants, death who takes you, crumbles the gates. This life is a shimmering god palace of gold, death is the pot holding riches, death is the poor stuck to his floor. This life is a shimmering wall of death and god is the mask making more….mask me, undress me, burn me alive, throw me down from the peak and into the hole. Volcano dream spot, hot and cold burning, I thought one time that I could see through you but now I see I was wrong…god was my friend last night before I woke up and when I woke up god said, “loosen your grip on reality.” I wonder who reality is?
I hope you know there is no teacher, there are only open windows with magic blowing though. And if you thought there was someone who could save you or sacrifice you or release you, it’s not true. There is only the one eternal song that creates these shimmering walls, these walls are god’s palace and I’m inside sleeping my dreams and I’m outside hurting and wailing and filling the ocean with salty tears and I’m above making shadows and light that yearn for each other and I’m below eclipsing the profanities of imagined perfection and I’m also exactly nowhere at all summoning poetry into new words that I might hide inside of you until another summer…

I was once a person who traveled far and wide looking for answers and prayers that were ancient. I was looking for magic beyond the eyes of men and I found only disguises playing god. I let them mold me and fold me and fill me with jewels. I let them plant me and implant me with secrets. I let them cut me and use me as fertilizer. I never believed any answers because I knew there weren’t any…

a guru is a spiral who falls from the peak back into your arms and becomes your heart’s friend forever. A guru isn’t a human but a snake who became a flower. A guru isn’t god but the weaver of the web. A guru isn’t out beyond the holy holy knower. A guru isn’t in the light or ever casting out the darkness…and it’s not like I would even know, I only know this swimming love…I’m only throwing words into your wall that I hope you will catch…because something really important happened,

last night I dreamed of god who was really not god at all but the kindest being who ever killed me…

karmapa chenno, I love you forever as the sacred cow who spilt the goddess into her womb, who bore your sanctified soul into the world of walls and built this castle for the lion who needed a home. Roaring light fills the fifth day of dawn and I see you forever waving at me in the winds of dear tara. You drew our faces from grace and remembered us all. Beyond, so far beyond god do I see you as evermore the death of death, unmasked by the mother light…

not even death can turn you blue, not even death can erase you, not even death can be more real than you…

moondrop in the endless summer night I will never die without you near me and I know however far I fall, there is no bottom without you waiting to catch me there.

I surrender all. I have no wall but you
shimmering as om mani padme hum…

forever as one face one place and one home, only you will I ever be, god guru eyes that see through, I wrote a song to save the world and because of you, I found out it was me.
Sharada Devi

4 thoughts on “I had a dream”

  1. The Guru is the Naked Flame, that meeting of mind is the connection to the starry dynamo of night. It is in the edge of Now, heart to heart, we are never apart. As he lay in his hospital bed dying a tearful devotee came to the Karmapa speechless and in deep grief, Karmapa who is the Lord of Karma, blessed the devotee and then smiled and said, “Nothing is happening.”

    We are all life on death wearing different masks to keep the play going on…

    I remember one cold winter day in Taos, New Mexico- I went to see my spiritual grandpa Little Joe, he was a 87 year old pueblo indian shaman. He lived way far away from the village because he was so holy and powerful the people could not sleep. His hogan made of logs was by a river and as I always drove out it was like leaving the modern world and opening a portal into the ancient past. I had brought my Vajra Guru Trungpa Rinpoche to meet him the week before and he told me Little Joe was surely an enlightened being. Little Joe called Trungpa “that navajo man.”

    So Trungpa confirmed just as I had suspected, that Little Joe was indeed enlightened…

    and so because of this, I was bringing Little Joe a couple of packs of tobacco and a long white tibetan scarf on this day as an offering and because I wanted him to initiate me into something holy. Grandpa was sitting alone in a teepee just outside the hogan. I went inside the teepee and my wife went in the hogan with his wife and they started taking non stop. I sat down in front of his fireplace and he was in front of me across the fire with the flames dancing before him. We sat there for a really long time in total silence with just the sound of the fire and the background of the two woman nonstop nonsense talking. Then grandpa broke the silence and said “woman talk too much” He then leaned forward and said, “look into my eyes,” so I looked into his eyes and the mask of his face just melted off revealing only a skull with light pouring out of his eyes, I was spellbound and I still am.

    Guru Death thank you for loving me into the naked flame of the mother light.

    No more masks.
    Bhagavan Das aka Bull coming

  2. You are forever the great dream maker drinking sychroncity as if it were a cup of tea. You are forever all around and point in the direction of silent truths that are easily forgotten in the haste and noice of this present ever fading world.

    You hide the relics away and know when to set the deities free that are locked in junk drawers and you show us how to free all the bounded deities and how to love them and in return you forever show love is all around in this chaos of orgone gone awry and you sing and hum sweetly and give your heart in the thick of all the brambling cantophne of mindless chit chat and point the way and here it is where dreams are made in the distance of forgotten mouths that hunger and suck and feed on vapid middle world hungry ghosts and yet you still love us continually forever and in your arms is the only thing that will satisfy this lonely heart.

    I am besoddened and eternally returning to all that is you and you shine and cover us with your holy nectar and give your endless grace as fierce as it maybe it is written in the stars. Love Tara Devi

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