Morning Med; 7 15 19
On 7 11 2019. I dreamt I was standing in a wasteland on the northern edge of a huge city.
I don’t know which.
I was alone standing by a cargo container; I thought it was my home.
I had to relieve myself, but I heard voices to the east, so I walked to the west side of the container to be out of view.
To the west I could see people walking in and out of manmade square doored underground cavities.
They were a long way away.
I never looked to the south, towards the city, but I knew it was in decay.
Looking to the north I could tell that I was in large crater, but I couldn’t see beyond the rim.
In the crater to the northwest, about one hundred yards away, I could see the remnants of what looked like a baseball backstop.
One tall pipe leaning to the southwest, a shorter pipe leaning against it, so it looked like an upside-down letter y.
My dreams always have an access point anymore and when I meditate on that point, they work like doors opening up useful information.
There was debris beneath the y shaped symbol, and I knew it was covering an opening, the debris was not my own.
The dream left me feeling very alone and lonely when awoke.
I meditated on it a bit Sunday morning but didn’t go to the access point.
I got two different thoughts.
1. Sand is the bones of mountains strewn on beaches, waiting to return to the depths of the sea to be pressed back into mountains.
2. We walk on the bones of our ancestors, their sparks of memory rise like warm vapors intermingling back into our volume of energy.
They both seemed like strange thoughts.
When I started meditating this morning and was immediately back into the dream, only the whole crater was covered with human bones. I walked towards the y through the remains to move the debris and uncovered a gravestone, that said, “Humanity’s Malice.”
I thought well shit, we’ve blown ourselves up.
I have yet to decide whether to go in or not.
………
Humanity’s Malice
Strewn bones
Like landscaper’s stones
Crunching, crunching
Neath my feet.
The stench of malice lingers.
Stranded survivors
Standing in darkened doors
Surveying the decay
Lonely and afraid.
Don’t know if it was a time before
Or a time to come,
Or a season
or a cycle in time.
The debris removed from a point of access.
A cut stone beneath
Bearing the words
“Humanity’s Malice”
Meditative Imagery 