Quote:
Originally Posted by Mightyboosh
And now you're not miserable?
About a week ago I was driving home on the parkway late at night and was just too tired, and was nodding off, so I pulled over to rest for a few minutes at the rest area. It was really, really cold. I didn't want to take the chance of falling asleep with the car running and waking up out of gas, so I blasted the heat for 5 minutes and then shut the car off, wrapped myself up in my coat and put on a spare thermal shirt. There were others there doing the same, turning their cars on and off.
I slept for like 45 minutes, and was pretty uncomfortable, to say the least. The seat does go all the way back, but it is not level. I woke up shivering and restarted the car and put in another hour of sleep after turning it off. Something very unexpected happened.
I've for years had nightmares, bad dreams in which I am shot, killed, I overdose or I'm being chased. Tidal waves are a common theme. Nuclear explosions over NYC are another. I can't ever remember having a dream that wasn't sick or beat in some way.
Anyway, I always prayed for a spiritual experience in a dream, a vision of Christ or heaven. Kinda gave up on it.
So, I'm in my car like a homeless guy, wrapped up in a coat and suffering. My back is twisted and my feet are cold. I dream that I am in an idyllic field, some trees, mainly high grasses. I'm on one knee. And I knew that I was dead. I knew that I had passed on. I knew that I was not conscious and awake. I felt that strongly. This is heaven, I thought.
I saw a pack of dogs running toward me and recognized the lead dog as Gizmo, a mixed Palmaranian we had in my youth who has long passed on. I also realized that somebody was standing next to me, though I didn't look at them. "Here comes all of my old friends!" I said to the presence that was beside me, and Gizmo greeted me with the happy tail and all of that and I started to play with him. The other dogs I couldn't yet see, though they were all around me. I knew that they were all of my old friends, all of the dogs I had lost over the years.
I woke up out of that dream in that freezing car and started it. I couldn't believe it. Not just a happy dream, but a blissful one, and an afterlife/dream experience to boot! I swear I almost cried. I was choked up for a good while.
Driving home, I couldn't help but think that if I'm not cold, wrenched up and suffering, I don't have that experience. I start to think about Christ talking about how you should store up treasures in heaven, and not be so earth-minded, as it were. I thought of Kerouac hopping trains and sleeping in dried streambeds and his seemingly abundant supply of eureka revelations. Blessed are the poor in spirit, I thought. Blessed are the poor!
I made up my mind right there to give more and keep less, to get closer to the ground, and not allow myself to be gluttonous and fat and full.
I thought of how someone might feel sorry for me, sleeping in the cold car like that, and think that I am miserable, alone, beat. But they would have no idea that the morning brought a spiritual refreshment that I needed!
I don't think the question should be about one's misery index. I don't believe that life should be graded on a scale of happiness/misery. I'd trade a whole lot of comfortable moments to have that experience again. And it was just a dream, let's be frank. Just a few minutes of blessedness can make up for all of the beatness life can hand you, sometimes.