Comfortable in the Uncomfortable

John: With this cold and fever I’ve been experiencing, I’ve been sweating during the night. Last night, the sensation of sweating took on different qualities. One was that I felt it put me right where I needed to be. In fact, I actually felt a sense of comfort, even though I can’t explain why it was comfortable.

Then, in another moment, when I would toss and turn, I’d realize how wet I was and yet I felt that it was all part of being where I was meant to be.

It didn’t make any sense. I questioned whether that was a valid idea, but when I did, I had the sense that I drifted off as a consequence. In other words, in the depths of my sweating it all felt okay, but as I put my attention on it, I realized that I had to believe it was okay in relationship to something else. But I couldn’t put my finger on what that was. I mean, how is it that one could be sweaty and potentially cold and that be okay?

There were no rational facts to back this up, so it evolved into a dream.

From a distance I’m able to see that a group of people have been shuttled into an area where they’re going to catch a bus. They look like they could fill a bus and they’ve got everything scheduled for themselves. I need to catch the bus too, but I don’t know if there’s a ticket or a seat available.

I just assume there’s a seat because I can feel it – I have the sense of having to do this.

To get to the bus I have to go through thickets and take a circular route that takes me through a field where bulls and cows lie on the ground.

I have a bicycle. The bicycle doesn’t handle the terrain very well but it’s what I have. I think I’ve got enough time to make the bus, but the bulls get in the way and give me a lot of trouble. Maybe it’s because I don’t push forward with enough presence?

I can see that I will have to do some treacherous moves with the bike along an area with shale. If I have enough momentum – i.e., I don’t slide off the edge – I can zip along toward the bus stop.

Finally I get to the stop and the bus is already there. Now I’m fearful that it will leave before I get my ticket. The bus is picking up the passengers, but I don’t see a ticket counter. 

An attendant says, “The bus depot is a block or two away.” I can hardly see it through the trees, but I feel in my bones that I’m going to be able to do this in time. But there’s no guarantee. I don’t have a reservation, but my feeling is that there just has to be an accommodation for me.  

There are no facts to support this. I just have to move along with my energetic intuition and what I need will manifest. There’s always a sense that I could mess up, that I could fail to catch what needs to be caught – that I could be too late.

From my sense inside, only I seem to know that I should get a seat. Does that mean I could be wrong? It’s clear that all the people in the group come first – they will get a seat on the bus – but I’m coming forward as a force of will.

Before this dream, I was coming forward as a force of will – completely okay in my sweating condition. That is, until I would become more conscious. When I came closer to the surface, I would begin to look for rational, linear details that supported my thoughts, and I would begin to disconnect from my comfort zone.

Looked at in a more linear way, it felt cold; like I could get even sicker. Still, somehow or other I had the sense that it was the right path.

And in the dream I had this sense that I could catch the bus, but then in terms of trying to get there, going through the thicket and everything, it wasn’t clear. It was a challenge.

When I do finally arrive, could the bus leave because it has no knowledge of me as a passenger? Is my presence somehow enough to create a space that allows for enough time to get a ticket and find a seat? If I feel it so deeply in my bones, isn’t that enough?

So this imagery is presenting the idea that things can and do happen without being apparent in the outer. What is to come isn’t always describable, or understandable, in rational or logical ways. It also shows that when we cling to, or grasp for, the rational, we can disconnect from the natural flow of events.

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