The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual facts
Dream of:11 December 1987 "My Goal"
My father and Bloemendaal were sitting in a room with me, meditating. I hadn't known Bloemendaal long, having recently met him at the Dallas Zen Center. After the three of us had finished meditating, my father began talking with Bloemendaal, criticizing some of Bloemendaal's behavior. For example, my father complained about a portable cassette-player/radiowhich Bloemendaal owned. When new people would come to the Zen Center to meditate, Bloemendaal had the irksome habit of playing the cassette player to give the new people little messages. Sometimes Bloemendaal would even turn the cassette player on while we were all trying to meditate together. My father pointed out that it was distracting when Bloemendaal played these little messages and that Bloemendaal should try to concentrate more on meditating and less on broadcasting the messages.
Bloemendaal had previously been advised not to bring the device into the meditation room, but he just couldn't seem to get it straight in his mind that he caused a distraction with the cassette player. He seemed to have a failing in his nature which caused him to rely on the cassettes.
My father also mentioned that when the group practiced walking meditation, Bloemendaal waddled. I had noticed the same trait before: during walking meditation, Bloemendaal didn't keep his body straight, but tended to move his upper body and head back and forth from side to side in a waddling fashion. So I also mentioned to Bloemendaal that he tended to waddle. I even began aping the way he walked, waddling around the large room. As I did so, I was actually able to float along, not touching the ground with my feet.
I tried to emphasize to Bloemendaal that he needed to try to walk straighter without waddling; but I hesitated to talk with him about it, because Bloemendaal wasn't a particularly receptive person.
My good Dallas friend Eloise (whom I had also met at the Zen Center) and a tall slender man were now with me in the meditation room of the Dallas Zen Center. Eloise sat down with her back against the wall, while the man lay down in front of her, perhaps with his head in her lap. When I placidly lay down on Eloise's right side with my head almost touching the wall, Eloise and the man began talking about a meditation group which had quickly sprung up all around the country. Many people had already joined the group and had begun training in it.
As I stretched impassively next to Eloise, I felt as if I would like to be closer to her, and I moved my head against her leg. I would just like to feel her touch me, perhaps stroke my hair. For an instant, I thought I might have actually felt her touch my head with her hand. But she seemed slightly distant at the moment; I thought perhaps she was interested in the other man, who seemed like a strong vigorous fellow. It didn't bother me if she liked the other man; I still felt comfortable being around them both.
As we began talking about meditation, I felt as if I should explain my need to meditate. I said to Eloise and the other man, "My goal is still to bring myself in as close a contact with God as I can. That's the only thing I'm really interested in doing."
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