—From EF—

For a very small bear, I’m having huge dreams. (When I wondered about the profusion of intense and complicated dreams I have during the darker months, somebody told me I was probably part bear, dreaming during hibernation.) Aging is upping the ante, since sleep now comes in blurts and dribbles.

In my early years I had terrifying nightmares, to the point that I resisted sleep. Then in my late 20’s I learned something about dream-work and started working with the threats. Lately, for some reason, I have even had adventures that left me feeling really good by morning, even though they involved a lot of effort. Many of these have been images of new forms of community and mutual support, and I was a part of making them work. Wow.

But last night was awful. It was one of those post-collapse scenarios where the fabric of society has come apart and danger was everywhere. I had escaped into a beautiful area like west Marin, rolling grassy hills, and was commencing the process of improvising shelter. Just as I began to feel safe and comfortable a crowd of loud, aggressive people came into view. I was alone and feared that they would find the survival supplies I had just stashed.

Some part of my mind remembered that I’d had other dreams where I had success organizing people and forming good relationships. I tried to be friendly and become part of the group, but it didn’t work. They were already in a fighting mood when they came into view, and I was a good target. The bullying started at a low level, masking itself as nasty comedy, but it was going to get bad. I did what I could—I woke up, drenched in sweat but safe in my bed.

It was my night-time version of the daily news. Generalized road-rage is rising steadily, and slowing enough to make a turn into our driveway provokes horn blares and jabbing fingers. The red tide is rising, and the media are falling all over themselves to make sure we know every grotesque detail.

It was only 4 AM when I woke and I didn’t want to risk going back into Part Two of the same damn dream. It’s hard to focus with a racing pulse and sticky skin, but little by little I mucked myself out. I need to get some instruction on dreamworld martial arts.