Most of this post was written two weeks ago. Some of the time frames mentioned are relative to that point in time. For Part 1, please click here. For Part 2, please click here.
My intention with The Dream Called Reality was to create a blurring of the dreams we have when we sleep, and the dreams we have when we are awake. Even more so, I hoped to shed light on a perspective of our existence, wherein we are able to create whatever we imagine. After rereading and editing these three sections, I realize I may have lost a bit of this goal to my own dreams.
I believe I will have future opportunities to elaborate on this, but for now, I'd like to create the idea that we are dreaming in every moment we exist. When we are sleeping, we are in what we normally call dreams. When we are awake, we are in some super-dream that has a lot of consistencies and seems really important. We call this dream, Reality. The rules are still the same, and until you realize you are in a dream, you are subject to those rules. Rising above them, is the challenge of our lives.
Some day, we will wake up from Reality, and realize it was all a dream, and feel safe and secure in whatever extra-super dream we are in there. But for now, I give you part three, of The Dream Called Reality...
Riding the Elephant
Two days ago I had a dream I was on a bus. There were some other people on the bus, and we were getting along very well. I don’t distinctly recall whether we already knew each other or if we were meeting each other for the first time. We were at the end of the line for the bus – it was going to the shop for its regular maintenance at the end of its shift.
My group departed the bus, and, I watched my compatriots wash their hands, one after another. I wasn’t exactly sure why they were washing their hands, but I thought it might be important for me to wash mine as the garage we were in wasn’t the cleanest. Maybe they might know something I didn’t.
So I washed my hands; the water was really cold and I had to use one hand to turn the water while the other was in the water. I started to dry my hands and move towards the van that was to take me, and my new friends, to our next destination. However, they had already gotten into the van and were headed off. I tried to run after the van, but I couldn’t catch up, in fact, I felt extra slow, as if something was holding me back.
It was early in the morning, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I at least had an idea of where I was going. I thought that I might be able to catch the number 17 bus home, and that there was a stop just ahead. I was in a city that gave me the feeling it was some mixture of Portland, Baltimore, and Boulder. The buildings were short, ornate, and refined yet slightly run-down.
I managed to find the bus-stop, for the number 17, just as it was arriving, but unfortunately, the bus was going in the opposite direction I was heading (it was heading west while I wanted to head east). The door was open for just a short moment, and I tried to ask the bus driver where the stop going east was. She didn’t have time for it and started to drive off. Impulsively, I jumped on the bus going the exact opposite direction I was heading in hopes of finding the right direction.
The bus driver asked me where I was going, and I said “Gresham,” which I knew was wrong in both my dream and in my waking life (that is where I have previously lived). I shook my head and told the driver the correct destination.
As we toured the city, the bus began to change shape. The driver became an attendant who was talking to me, and a new driver appeared. The front section of the bus became an entirely distinct room, with a white-tiled floor and a small dog running about. Our conversation progressed about the locations we drove past.
At this point, things seemed fairly consistent for how my dreams usually progress, but then something dramatic happened. I don’t remember exactly how this dramatic event happened, I may have gotten off of the bus, or the bus may have simply changed its shape, but what happened was that I was suddenly being lifted in a carriage onto the top of an elephant! And it was huge!
I was sitting in the very front seat of a bright red, box-like carriage; there were no walls, no ceiling, and no seat belts. I was seated on a small, soft bench seat. The seat had a small back rest and a nice round pillow on top. My feet were dangling in front of the carriage, over top of the elephant’s forehead.
The elephant was now my tour guide, instead of the driver / attendant, and what he was showing me was causing me wonder and amazement. I had such a different perspective.
I saw a large group of people protesting a memorial for the Vietnam War. I remember thinking: “I’ve seen them before.” We passed through a corridor that was famous for panhandlers, except most of the pan-handlers were wearing business suits. One person stood out to me in particular. He seemed so familiar to me.
After passing the panhandlers, we approached the end of the road. It was a pair of double doors – they were a size we would normally call regular, but from the top of the elephant, they looked like a mouse hole. The elephant ducked down to go through, but I panicked as I foresaw myself heading straight for the edge of the frame. I didn’t want to lose my head, so I stuck my feet up, pressing against the wall above the door to stop the elephant. I was successful, but that didn’t mean the elephant was happy about that. He pulled back and shook his head at me in irritation.
I said, “Okay, I’ll trust you.” And he moved for the door, again, despite the fact he was three times its size. I relaxed, and we passed through mostly unblemished. My arm brushed past a bit of the frame, and indignantly I yelled “See! I knew you were going to do that!” This was far from the torso crushing event of what I expected the first time, but I apparently felt the need for some justification of my concerns.
When we passed through the doors, I was thrown, all by myself (the carriage disappeared at this point) down the hallway that ran perpendicular to our entrance. I turned to see the elephant, and he we standing on the other side of the hallway (on the other side of the door). His tallest point came up to about my shoulder height.
I ran to him; he ran to me. When we met, we were both terribly excited. I treated him like he was a dog, saying “Good boy!” and scratched behind his ears. I stuck my hand in his mouth and he slobbered all over it with his tongue. We were elated.
And I woke up - and I was elated. On my way to work, I happened to get behind a number 17 bus. When I stopped for dinner, I stood in line behind a man who ended up getting the number 17. I intended to try to eat dinner with him, but I had to use the bathroom, and when I came out, he was gone.
I am still elated. I feel deeply connected to my wisdom; it is carrying me.
I interpret this from my dream, but I carry it into my reality as well.
I dream all the time, in both my sleep and waking reality. I’ve told you about some of my dreams from sleep, but I haven’t mentioned my waking dreams.
I dream about humans, hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years from now where, if you were to put humans of my dreams next to the humans of now, it would be completely incomprehensible to see how we evolved into them. These humans have evolved into blobs of matter that completely incorporate the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual natures into one cohesive unit. If you were to look at this human, you’d say they more resemble what we’d call a cell than a human.
In my dream, I don’t necessarily know how these humans got to where they are, but I’m excited to know that these humans have created something greater than themselves: another existence, comparable to what we look like to our cells. It is completely amazing. To me it is a grand fractal repeating.
This is my waking dream, and all of my other dreams feed this dream. Sure there is more to it – I’ve spent a long time dreaming about it – but this is a good start for me to voice it.
This dream is far off – it is so far beyond the extent of my mortal existence that it is hard to grasp onto. I’ve conceived it and that is all that matters.
I live to see that dream come true. There will be many shifts in the course of human history to get to that stage, if we ever get there, and I hope to accomplish in my life the setting of the stage for this to come about.
Recently, I was reading an article and I became very frustrated with the political situation of where I live (as is common for me). I wrote a public comment about the article, and at the end of this comment, I wrote: “I encourage you to take an honest look at the world you live in and ask yourself: ‘Is this really the way I want to live?’ If your answer is 'no', I heartily encourage you to stop accepting the status quo and start doing something about it.”
I believe this to the deepest core of my being.
I don’t like the structure of the reality I live in. I find it encourages separation, greed, laziness, lust, craving, and anger rather than connection, sacrifice, action, love, contentment, and peace.
I’m taking a step towards making my reality a dream. I’m taking a step towards making my dreams a reality. I’m taking a step towards a world where my dream is my reality, and my reality is my dream.
I want to live in a better world. And I want my children to live in a better world. And I want my great-grandchildren to live in a better world. Even more so, I want everyone’s great-grandchildren to live in a better world; I want everyone’s children to live in a better world; and, I want everyone to live in a better world.
Damn it! It is time to stop saying this shitty world is the way it is because that’s the way it is, and it always will be that way. It’s a shitty place because people don’t dream of something ridiculously amazing; they are too stuck in the past. They don’t dream about it, and as a result, they don’t realize it is out there just waiting for someone to come make it reality.
It is all just a dream, anyway, so why not have the best freaking dream imaginable? All it takes is some effort, and your wildest dreams will become your reality.
When I was in my early teens, I looked at the word ‘mister’ as a title that every male gets. To me at that point in my life, ‘mister’ was the definition of baseline expectation, and I knew I didn’t want to be just another ‘mister’. I didn’t want to be Mr. Clayton Osterman.
I created a fictional title for myself. I started with the least used letters in the English alphabet – Q and Z – as an abbreviation – Qz. – and moved from there. I eventually came up with the title Quayzong. From that point on, I wanted to be identified as Qz Clayton Osterman (shorthand for Quayzong Clayton Osterman).
Over the years sense then, I’ve been trying to bring this world into my reality. I’ve analyzed what it means to me, shifted it from title to a simple word (quayzong). Lately, I’ve come to think of quayzong as both title and meaning.
For me, right now, quayzong means: clarity, connection, balance, power, action, beauty, love, and peace.
I am quayzong. Quayzong Clayton Osterman; welcome to my dream.
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