Ongoing dreams are one of the top five or ten most interesting side effects of meditation. This morning I was in this rinky-dink dive motel, and I thought nobody knew I was there. Then there’s a knock at the door. I open it, and a woman tries to walk in. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down,” I say as I stop her from coming in.
“You don’t remember,” she asks.
I look at her hard, but no, I don’t remember.
So she holds up a newspaper clipping, and I look at it. It’s something I wrote. She starts to explain, “You wrote this,” but then it all comes flooding back to me before she says any more. “Okay, that’s good,” I say, holding up my hand. “I remember it all. Come in.”
“Thank god,” she says, and walks into the room and plops down on a bed, face down. “I’m beat.” Then I turn around and more people start to come in, but it’s all good, I remember them, and the dream continues from where we left off. One person has brought several containers of taco ingredients, and the meat mixture smells amazing. We begin to put them together quietly at a makeshift counter while the woman rests.
As the tacos are made, we take them outside. It’s a bright, sunny day, and there’s a Jaguar parked outside my room in this crappy motel in the desert...
