Putting down a quick dream–the best parts of it have been forgotten. I dreamed that I had a Hebrew exam in an hour and a half, but I was going to go back to my place and rest for a half hour before studying. I believe that I was exhausted from all of the activity that took place in the parts of the dream that are now forgotten.
I entered an open room that had a bed like the one I sleep on in real life. I threw my stuff on the floor, took my clothes off, and started to doze. But, I had to use the restroom, and so I walked down the hall. Apparently, the bed was in a room more like a dorm room from college. Upon entering the restroom, I quickly discovered that there were no urinals. I realized I was on “the 5th floor” which was apparently a women’s floor. Back in the room I’d entered, I hurriedly began gathering my things. I recognized that even the alarm clock by the bed looked like an alarm clock I used when I was a kid. In the dream, I remembered that my room was on the 7th floor, a men’s floor. In my real life college days, all of the odd floors had been women’s floors, and my floor was on the 4th floor, but this was, of course, a dream. A woman entered, and I began explaining to her that the bed looked like my bed–it was made up the same way as in real life (of course, my wife makes the bed up that way, so this was all dream nonsense). Then, my wife’s phone alarm went off, and I woke up.
I haven’t had many college or school dreams since I’ve gone back to school. The endless and hopeless dreams of showing up on test day and realizing I’d missed most of the semester due to slacking off, plain forgetfulness or a complete unawareness that I’d been enrolled in the class–those dreams have been few and far between. Actually, I haven’t had that many dreams at all that I remember. Perhaps I’ve been invested enough in my waking reality that I haven’t bothered to think much about my dreams upon waking. For the most part, I’ve taken to placing little or no significance in dreams. They are generally chaotic, messy and incoherent–dreams no longer satisfy my expectations of what truth and reality should be.
Maybe this is a key reason why I no longer have any mystical experiences. I don’t place a lot of stock in things that can’t be apprehended in a straightforward sort of way. Partly this is due to a fear that I might be seeing visions provided by spirits who are evil. Mostly this is due to the fact that dreams and visions have done little to change reality. I can remember dreams about my little brother wrecking his truck and thinking little of them. They weren’t significant enough for me to change anything that was to happen. I remember a dream where some men rode up to me in the desert and said that they were “sons of ISIS” and this happened at least a year before ISIS appeared in the news. What good did it do? All of the mystics and seers and psychics in the world haven’t stopped things like 9/11 and all the terrorist attacks in Europe. Of course, there are plenty who claimed to have witnessed such things–but their visions are so heavily interpreted after the fact that they might as well have not had any visions at all.
I will say that I’ve had nothing but bad feelings about Trump. I think that those who could have stopped his rise to the presidency were making deals with a devil whose awfulness they can’t even begin to understand. The false equivalence of Hilary being just as bad or perhaps worse–the drumbeat of eight years of Obama apparently messing up everything even as no evidence can be mustered–but the really exasperating part of it all is that Trump brings a precedent for a kind of corruption that is only seen in other countries. The America we have known and loved is over. The new America will seem great for enough years to get the man re-elected, and then things will get really bad for almost everyone. All I have to back this up is just a terrible gut feeling of pure awfulness when I watch Trump speak. Maybe this is how others have felt seeing Obama and Hilary speak–I hope it’s all in my head, but I can’t quite shake the feeling that it’s not.