I’ve been having some wild dreams recently. It sort of makes sense, because I talk to a lot of different people on a daily basis and in my conversations with them I hear a lot of life stories that are very different from mine and if you’ve ever talked to me at least once… You know I’m very rich on analogies and metaphors. So as I’m thinking of all these crazy scenarios I’m probably stimulating a lot of neurons that think crazy combinations of thoughts.
In my notably weird dreams I’m always a young adult (cue the collective cry of YOU ARE A YOUNG ADULT!). I’m 37 and I mean I dream of when I’m around 17-22. It also happens to be the time I remember most vividly, although to be honest a lot of my memories are very faded since I started living more in the present. But while I can’t give you any information about when I was 12 years old, I can at least give you a rundown on what probably happened when I was 18.
I was an angsty young lad, hungry for attention and love. Did you know my Substack used to be named “The Anxious Insecure”? Because that was literally what I was in my memory. To be honest when I started writing on Substack I think I still was a bit anxious and insecure, but over time I just completely stopped identifying with that and so I changed my Substack’s name.
In one of my recent dreams I died, but it was pretty weird; I was on the top floor of a high rise building and I felt the ground shake. I was thinking, “holy fuck, this might be it” when the building started folding in half. But the nice thing about being a Buddhist is this doesn’t really phase you; I just accepted it with closed eyes and decided to witness my final descent.
Then I found myself suddenly underwater in all the ruins when I collected my consciousness. I swam out on to the surface and for some reason started seeing some alien beings and I started communicating to them, and I think the dream ended when I was about to coach them about something? I don’t know, man, dreams gonna dream.
In another dream I met a high school friend. They walked out of a New York City subway (for some reason) and we recognized each other instantly when we locked eyes. I was so happy to see them and I gave them a big hug as I said their name… And they said “Jake!” to me. And in my usual flabbergasted tone I replied “JAKE?!”, lol. But after that I kept on telling them how much I missed them and how good it is to see them.
This seems to be a recurring pattern for me: I have many dreams of telling people how much I miss them, how much I regretted not saying something to them, and so on. In fact this is something I do a lot when I’m piss drunk, although that hasn’t happened in… Years? I would pick up the phone and randomly call the people I never consciously think about during my daytime, and just go on this profusely long confessions of love and appreciation.
It seems like a pretty affectionate thing to do, but I know myself a bit better than that. I know deep down, this stems from my continuous desire to reassure to people that I’m a good boy so they’re not secretly mad at me. This was my karma for practically my entire life.
But it’s not all bad. I do have moments of genuinely coincidental connections with people I used to know and oh boy, does it feel good when it happens. The middle way I’m trying to navigate is, I don’t want to overly indulge in these sentimental, nostalgic feelings in my day to day constantly grasping on to artifacts and memories from the past. But at the same time I don’t want to be this person who you run into after a long time and I act like a complete stranger to you, you know?
My Buddhist camp was one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had in my life. It was facilitated by a few beopsa-nims (sort of like monks, but in the non-monastic way). It was a 5 day temple stay so I formed a lot of bond with the participants and the beopsa-nims. And when I went to India, I met one of the beopsa-nims and I was so happy to see her! I was all excited! Wanted to shoot a selfie and send it to all my peers! But she just smiled and said “it’s good to see you”, and went about her day.
And this really bummed me out at first. Then I remembered, I was the participant of cohort #2341; she probably had a LOTTTTTTT of other participants who feel exactly like I do, and probably can’t keep track of everyone. And it’s not like she said “eww wtf” or anything like that, she said it’s good to see me with a smile. So what was there to feel bad about outside of my obsession? Nothing, I thought; and moved about my day.
Then after a few days I had a preeettttyyyy rough morning because I took some Tylenol the night before. I usually take Tylenol at night when I feel some bodyaches and they always work pretty well, but what I didn’t account for was me waking up at very odd early hours to start a very rigorous day. I got a pretty bad case of indigestion from the Tylenol I had, and oh man did it feel bad. Feeling dizzy like I need to puke WHILE feeling super drowsy cuz of the drug. I couldn’t stand in group when we were in Rajgir and I couldn’t even go to Vulture’s Peak because I was just laying down in the bus.
And there she was, at the bus; gently asking me if I’m okay. She asked me what I needed and provided it to me with great care. And this is when I realized that the pleasantries I was so obsessed over didn’t really mean anything; what matters is how you treat another person. You see them and treat them with your heart.
Later I thanked her and moved on. We still never talk some times. But the next time we see each other we will both smile and say it’s good to see each other. Then we will treat each other with our hearts, as the situation calls for it. Then again we will part ways. But we are still in the grand ebb and flow of life together.
I send this writing in love. And for this simple statement I won’t regret not telling you how much I loved you today. I can die happily.