My dreams have been and continue to be a major directive and translator in my life. They guide me into and out of places my imagination can not imagine. Dreams, like the one told here, have shaped my philosophy as much as any book I have read or person I have known.
I saw in a dream…
I am playing soccer on a lush green field with a backdrop of the Santa Monica mountains and the Pacific ocean. During the game large rock formations start jutting from the earth forcing us to run for our lives. So not to be crushed by the rocks, we start climbing.
When I reach the top of the tallest mountain, I look back for my companions but they have all disappeared. The sky is clear and blue above, a blanket of cotton like clouds covers the view to the ground. Everything is perfectly still. There was no wind, no sounds, or movement of any kind. As I make my way to the edge, of the peak, I notice a tall man looking out over the clouds. He is dressed in a monastic robe and holds a tall walking staff. His eyes are the color of the sky and he has a Fu Manchu mustache. He is ancient. Wisdom lights his face.
“What do I do now?” I ask the stranger.
“Jump — some make it, some don’t, “ he says in a quiet, direct voice.
The dream ends with me flying through the clouds. The wind is in my face and my eyes water. I wake up to a cold, wet pillow. As a result of this dream, I no longer have any fear of my journey ending, for there is always another mountain to climb.
Martin L. King (January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968) In Memoriam