Counter-Dream of a Pokémon Pantheon

I was awakened this morning 30 minutes early by the telephone. I knew upon waking that I had been dreaming. But it was only after another 30 minutes and a cup of French roast that the dream floated up to conscious memory. It was a jumbled dream with many scene changes, but that was appropriate because the scenes themselves were united only by a theme of change. I never became lucid, but there were a few moments when I “almost” did, meaning I recognized that reality was strange and that I must have been forgetting something. I was forgetting to wake up in the dream!

The Dream

I am in a playhouse auditorium, sitting in the audience with many others. There is a older, portly round man standing on the stage and watching the audience. He starts directing us with a bullhorn, issuing roles we are to play. I’m told to play Alexander Hamilton. I protest loudly that I want to be Thomas Jefferson or at least George Washington, not the imperialist Hamilton. The director ignores my protests, and I’m led back several times to some makeshift dressing area, where I try on different costumes. I notice that I seem to be the only woman around, and I reflect that there are no leadership roles for a woman in this play and that I’m being forced to dress and act like a man.

The dressing closet I’m in is locked. But the walls are flimsy. I tear a hole in one near the bottom and crawl out on my belly, like a snake. Then I stand and run, men with flashlights and dogs in pursuit. They are carrying 18th Century costumes, and they are trying to capture me, enslave me, and make we wear their costumes and go to battle for them.

Suddenly, I’m in a house in which I live. Each room is a different color. I go from room to room, repainting each in a different Easter egg color. My home’s interior looks like an Easter basket. I reflect on the elements, and I’m performing some kind of alchemical magick outside each threshold to tell what color each room should be painted. There is a vague sense that I’m expecting a baby and need to figure out which room should be the nursery.

Suddenly, my mother, who is a master gardener, and I are standing on the roof and looking at this banzai-looking tree on a lower terrace. It has somehow grown from dwarf to gigantic proportions and is splitting the exterior of the house and will soon split the interior. My mother wants to simply saw back the limbs. But I jump from the roof and look for the root of the tree, telling her that cutting its limbs will hurt it and not solve the problem. I find the root, and by some weird magic, I as I pull up the root, the tree shrinks down to its proper banzai size. 

I remember that the dictatorial play director is hunting me down as though I were an escaped slave and that, if he catches me, he will force me to play the bad guy.  

The phone rings, waking me.

The Evaluation

Not until I wrote this dream out just now did I realize where some of the elements were coming from:
DreamWalker had earlier sent me a link to a blog post by Daniel Ingram in which Daniel was pointing out the imperialist, colonialist, patriarchal, and black magic implications of Pokémon GO and was recounting a dream in which he had tried to capture a Pokémon with a ball but was morally repulsed by the action. His post proposes a modern tantric pantheon of Pokémon we can all skillfully relate to and merge with instead of enslave and train to battle for us. 

Crazy, yes? But he does have a point about the current fad Pokémon GO and other games that entrain the body-mind to dark, exploitative purposes. When people – normally the young men who are recruited to fight our wars – play these games obsessively, one has to wonder what military-industrial-complex entity is behind this form of possession.

My dream involved playacting as colonialists, pastel colors like Pokémon, elemental magic, my escape from captivity and slavery, my identity as a woman over against patriarchy, a house that was splitting like an Easter egg or Poké-ball might, and a Zen-flavored tree whose root of delusion I cut. 

Earlier dreams of mine overtly about Daniel were about his art of deception, disguise – basically lying.

So where is my dream ego these months later? Well, not lucid in the dream, but at least refusing to be further exploited and led along by patriarchy. I’ve escaped that scene. I’m not going to play some role the patriarch orders me to, including his own projection onto me of the colonizing “bad guy.” In short, I
will not ever again allow myself to be used and cheated as some man’s “assistant.” In this dream, I lept from the split structure to cut delusion at its root, rejecting the mere cosmetic fix of my mother’s generation’s more passive contingent.

Speaking of mothers and tantra, in October 2015 it was my sending Daniel my own teachers’ instructions for a tantra that involves merging with a motherly figure, like White Tara, that sent him into an unaccountable rage and ended our interactions for good. The night before, we had been on Skype IM, having fun. I had asked him why he was not working to become a Buddha. He paused for a while and then wrote that he had resolved thousands of times that his thoughts, words, and deeds be for the liberation of all. He strongly implied a bodisattva vow. He asked me what more he could do, and I mentioned some Indo-Tibetan practices. He had voiced interest in tantra, so I sent him the initial practice that my own teacher has most students do. As a result, I was told to turn over all my unfinished MCTB2 files within the week and was issued other very unkind and projective accusations. This is what I got for being thus motherly toward him. I called him to apologize and try to understand what had upset him in my communication or instructions. He commanded me to turn over my work within a week and hung up on me

This man was my friend. He was my first teacher. If you think it is easy or fast to process being betrayed by someone you consider a spiritual friend and teacher, try it sometime, and drop me a line a year later on the subject of how much working-throughyou have had to do as a result of that spiritual betrayal.

Others have remarked to me the new and different emphases on embodiment and furthering his path that are featured in Daniel’s most recent interview, along with rethinking the use of “enlightenment” in MCTB2 as a term for what he has, which is no more than what I have. I listened to this interview and was heartened to hear it liberally sprinkled with my own words, phrases, and even complete sentences. So Daniel heard me, after all. And if those interviews are sincere, then good. I believe that he has a good heart under all that armoring, projection, and other latticework of defense mechanisms. I know truths about his early life that others don’t, so I know he has a hard row to hoe to reach full enlightenment. It will take much more than technical skill as a editator to finish the path. It will take surrender to the whole, and in Bon Dzogchen that whole is called the Mother.

Daniel’s delightfully eccentric and insightful post is here:

Maybe if Daniel tantrically merges with a sufficient number of colorful cartoons, an Easter egg functionality will open, enabling him to plumb and put in order the depths of his broken heart, and to relate more fully to the actual human beings who have in good faith crossed his path. 

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