In my dream I was in an outdoor space with others. We were gathered around but working independently, all of us quite serious about the fun we were engrossed in. The fun consisted of encountering normal objects in our environment. It could be anything - a rock, a cup and saucer, a potted plant, a jewelry box. The object of our pursuit was to find out how to open each object -- for in each object, we had been instructed, was a game. We were assured every object could be opened, whether a rock, an ordinary brick, or an elaborate piece of macrame. And every object contained its own game with no two games alike.
And no two objects contained the same game. Even similar objects, such a identical cups and saucers, had hidden inside them unique games. Our first challenge, somewhat like completing first level of an overarching game of exploration, was to discover how to open an object. Only by opening an object could the game inside be released. It didn't matter which object we found or set our intention upon. No one object contained any better game than any other object. All objects, all games were equally wondrous.
Over time, in many ways, each of us discovered the right combination of experience and intuition to interpret what it took to open objects. Some objects were more difficult to open than others. A few remained elusive and were passed around to see if anyone might have some luck with them. When an object finally opened, it was greater than a surprise, more than a sense of accomplishment. An experiential depth unfolded that went far beyond a reward. It felt as a fulfillment had been reached, a re-connection established. Of course, this was but the first level of what was expected of us.
To open an object was to reveal the hidden game inside. But now it was incumbent upon us to figure out what the game was and how to play it. Naturally, the level beyond that was attempting to win the game. Once we reached a victory in the game we had uncovered, only then could we move on to another object to open. The wonder and joy of discovering each game was intense motivation to win each game. There was so much delightful variety and creativity in each hidden game that it was obvious that the real game was seeing how many objects could one open - how much original wonder could be experienced.
At one point, I encountered a group of six or seven cylindrical objects, only about three inches long and as narrow around as a pencil with rounded ends. There seemed no way to tell just what the objects were or what they possibly could be used for. Even the material they were made out of seemed mysterious. They weren't wood or ceramic or metal but were non-pliable even though their surfaces were smooth, even soft. At first I wondered if I needed to concern myself with what the objects were or what they did. All I had to do was open them to reveal the game inside. None of the other objects I had managed to open required special knowledge of the object itself to find the opening method.
One small wooden tray had opened merely by holding it a certain way and tilting it forward while applying light pressure laterally. Nothing about the tray's function informed that method. And when the tray opened, individual sections of wood grain had flared out to become separate, rising sections in a tall, multi-level stack of interconnected carvings. Certainly, the six or seven cylindrical objects only needed to be handled properly, tilted just so, given the proper pressure, and they would open up. I didn't need to know what they were to access the game inside them.
I set about handling the six or seven objects, feeling their weight, their texture. I began experimenting with ways to hold them. Then a most curious impulse overtook me. I picked all of them up and, gathering them together, began inserting the small bunch in my mouth in preparation to swallow. Someone not far from me saw what I was attempting and raced to my side. He was incredulous at what I was about to do, in fact, he expressed concern that I might injure myself -- especially if I didn't know what the objects were or what they did. But I continued as before, intuitively certain -- of what I began to wonder.
And the more I wondered, the dawning realization hit me. I was certain this was the correct method for getting the objects to open and reveal their game. Something about internalizing the bunch of them would prove to be the winning method. But the winning method for what? What would happen if these things opened up inside of me? However would I access the game if it was inside of me? And how could I be so certain that I wouldn't be affected or injured? I had already seen many objects open around me. Some upon opening had grown quite large or extended. If such a thing were to occur in my gut, things could get serious. But like an intuitive slide of gravity pulling fate downhill, I continued pushing them into my mouth and ignored the warnings coming at me.
I knew - and I knew I knew with certainty that this was the only workable method to open the objects. And once they opened, they were intended to open something else. That something else was me. I was the object that ultimately would reveal the game. And once revealed, I would be in the game that needed to be played. But to win the game of me would be the next level - a level beyond the playing field. As I committed to the next level and felt myself swallow -- I woke up, and realized, being awake in my life was the hidden game finally revealed. Now only two things remain -- how to win the game, and what would be the levels beyond.
To dream a dream that's not a dream
when dreams are all there is.
To be the one that's more than one
if one more than all becomes the quiz.
To play the game that's this and that
when games dissolve into hers and his.
The dream of all is the game one plays
when the one that's all is all that's left,
endlessly imagined in amazement's fire
and explored in potential's bubbly fizz.
It's never the time or place to be bereft.
There's nowhere else to find the one
if the game's a dream of all
and all-in-one is nothing but a disguise.
There's nothing left to ask oneself
when the dream that's not a dream
exceeds one's prowess to surmise.
Be the dream or be the game
or be the one who's all.
For it doesn't end but in the end
it may not be about any one thing at all,
not if games and dreams are only here to awaken us,
and the Dreams and the One and the All
in the end are simply superfluous.
We're left forever finding it's nothing else
than something more in ourselves that ultimately enthralls.
Ecstasy needs no reason when its name is love.
Love needs no name when its feeling is joy.
All are the same in nature's eyes.
The endpoint is wonder that's beyond apprehension
and the dream that's not a dream will always be the next beginning,
our wakeful dream, our endless surprise.