Dream of: 23 November 1997 "Karma"
My mother and I were in a car which she was driving. We were getting ready to leave Texas and head to Ohio. I figured we would probably reach Nashville today and spend the night there. Then tomorrow we would drive the rest of the way into Ohio. We had just begun our journey, when my mother pulled into the drive-through window of a small fast food restaurant. She said she was hungry and needed something to eat before we started the long trip. When she also mentioned something about being tired, I realized the arrangement in the car was backwards — I should be driving instead of my mother. I suggested that as soon as she had received her food, we change places. When she agreed, I told her that I first needed to go inside and use the restroom, and that when I returned, I would take over the driving.
I slid out of the car and headed into the restaurant, through a door next to the drive-through window. As I walked through the kitchen area, I noticed only one young woman in the kitchen. She didn't seem to mind my heading toward the restroom, which I saw on the other side of the room. I was not completely sure the restroom was open to the public, but since the girl didn't say anything, I walked on into the restroom.
Once I stood in front of the commode and began urinating, I realized I had needed to use the bathroom more than I had thought; if we hadn't stopped here, I surely would have had to stop in a short while to relieve the pressure. When I had finished my business, I was still not quite ready to leave; I was busy examining something which I had picked up: a hand gun. The gun was a dark brown revolver which appeared to be in excellent condition. Turning the gun over in my hand, I sat down on the commode to examine it more closely. It was a medium-sized gun which appeared to be brand new. I liked the look and feel of it. I just couldn't figure out why anyone would have left the gun in the bathroom. Besides that, I couldn't remember exactly where I had found the gun. I knew I had just picked it up a few moments before, but I couldn't remember from where. It might have been lying on the back of the commode, or it might have been on some shelves — I couldn't recall.
What I did realize was that I would like to have the gun and with little reflection, I decided to take it. Why not? No one would know what I had done. The gun should have never been left in the bathroom in the first place. Whoever left the gun here deserved to have it stolen.
I was still trying to remember where exactly I had found the gun. When I looked again at the top of the back of the commode, I was surprised to see yet another gun lying there. I also picked it up and began examining it. The second gun was bigger, a solid black automatic. It was also in excellent shape. Liking its looks, I decided I could just take it also; two guns were better than one.
But suddenly a thought struck me: karma. It occurred to me that whatever I did with these guns would affect my karma. As I understood the concept of karma, a person's actions determined what would happen to a person. If a person did bad things, he or she would have bad karma; good actions, good karma. Karma was like a storehouse of all a person's actions. And basically, I had a storehouse of bad karma. Although I believed in the concept of karma, I was continually ignoring it, continually storing up bad karma.
Taking these guns was a perfect example of how I accumulated bad karma. Sure, I could get away with it. I could stick the guns down my pants, walk out, and never get caught. But by doing so, I would certainly increase my store of bad karma. And that was something I really didn't need. I was already overwhelmed with bad karma. In fact, the idea of accumulating good karma was almost foreign to me. I knew it was possible to obtain good karma, but I was so used to constantly storing up bad karma, it was difficult to think I could actually do something that would increase my store of good karma.
Yet here was an opportunity. All I had to do was to leave the guns there. Or what would be even better, I could tell the woman outside that the guns were in the restroom, and that she should do something with them. The idea that I actually had the power to affect my karma was a bit of a revelation. It was not that I hadn't been aware that I had the power; it was more that I had somehow slipped into a rut of ignoring my power, of tending to opt for the lower road, and not even trying to change my karma.
By now I was standing up beside the commode, still trying to make my decision. For the first time, I noticed that the walls of the bathroom were made of glass. Pieces of cardboard were stuck over the glass in strategic places, so that if someone were inside, he or she couldn't be seen. However there were still a few places where there was no cardboard; and now I saw that someone was looking in at me. It must be the woman who had been in the kitchen; she must be wondering what was taking me so long.
As she moved away from the glass, I needed to hurry up and make my decision. I didn't think the woman had seen anything when she had looked in. So it was still possible to go ahead and take the guns. But suddenly I made my decision: I wouldn't take the guns. I had enough bad karma the way it was. I certainly didn't need any more, especially not for a couple guns. In fact, I would go ahead and tell the woman outside about the guns.
Opening the door to the bathroom, I was surprised to see that the woman was no longer alone in the kitchen; 20 people must have been standing around the kitchen. I wasn't even sure which of the people was the woman whom I had originally seen. But finally I thought I recognized her and I walked up to her. Still holding the brown revolver in my hand, I began explaining to her that I had found the gun in the bathroom, and how dangerous it was for someone to have left it there. I flipped out the circular chamber to see if any bullets were in it; but it was empty.
I then led her back into the bathroom and showed her the black automatic. Pulling the part that held the bullets out of the gun, I was surprised to see that this gun was fully loaded with large brassy bullets. I showed the bullets to the woman, still talking about how dangerous the gun was. I told her the gun might still have a bullet in the chamber, but that I couldn't see it. I pointed the gun toward something on the floor, and acted as if I were going to pull the trigger, to see if a bullet was still in the chamber. But I didn't shoot. I could see that I was frightening the woman, and I didn't want to do that. That was the type of recklessness I was trying to avoid.
Copyright 2001 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
