I had this dream, early in the morning, it touched me, it shook me, it affected me emotionally. It was a dream that not only discussed the topic of dying, but also the topic of “what’s really important,” as well as letting go of people. I learned that the really important things, are not college, jobs and money, but giving my children the ability to send and receive compassion and love.

I remember walking through what appeared to be a library. There were these shelves of books, but they didn’t go up super high. They were mostly to shoulder height. Much like a children’s library, only it was adults walking through the place. I remember a moment of seeing what I thought was a children’s section. There were smaller book shelves and brightly colored rugs. I slowly walked through the place, noting other adults slowly walking through as well. As I walked through the library I noted a plaque with an American flag, and behind it a photo. Something someone would leave in memory of someone who passed, and served in the military or was the spouse of someone who did.

I met someone from the old days. My old days of working at WB. We caught up. Her name is Lauren. After a brief chat, I continued walking through the facility. I ended up walking with a tall African American man and we ended up in a room together. The cushioned seat was a circle. He sat in front of me and between us was a very large porcelain bowl. More than a bowl it was a drain of sorts. There was this material in it. It felt like I contributed something, as did he. Slowly the substance was being ground out, like a garbage disposal. When I looked into it, it looked rather gross. I saw what appeared to be large lima beans… all white and roundish, soaking in this watery fluid. Also in the bowl was a meat, like a chorizo. We just started, this man and I, silently into the bowl, watching it drain. Watching our offering ground up and removed.

At that point I became a bit aware that this just isn’t in my wheelhouse of what’s “normal.” Why was I there? Why was I staring at this bowl of stuff being drained out? I stood up and wondered away from there. I ended up in a room of the library with more books on shelves and as I was wandering the the books I came to that plaque I had seen earlier… the one in memory of someone… and it hit me. In that moment I knew who it was. I knew who was going to be in the photo behind the little flag… it was the friend I was talking to earlier. She was dead. The realization struck me, as if she was dead, and I’m talking to here and going through this strange experience with her and others – then I too must be dead.

At that moment of realization, a person appeared behind me. He was all smiles and full of compassion. He was an African American man in a dark brown suit, with matching tie. He shook my hand and welcomed me. In the dream I remember thinking, “this must be God, or a representation of what God is, something I can communicate with.”

I asked him how my passing was. Considering I felt great, had no issues, I thought he’d smile and say, “oh very nice. very easy.” But he didn’t. His eyes held this pain, this sadness. He paused a great length, thinking of the best way to tell me that, “it wasn’t an easy passing.” No details were mentioned, but that hit me like a ton of bricks. My passing wasn’t easy… what of those I left behind?

My thoughts instantly went to my son. The sense of timeline wasn’t clear and I didn’t know the age of my passing. I saw myself in the library at the age I am now, so my first thought was, “what of my son’s education?” I explained that I need to go to my son and help him with his education. “He’s so close to graduating college, at the age of 14, he needs my help. His mother won’t know what to do, how to fill out the forms and I really need to help guide him through all that…” Kinda silly, but that was my concern, his education – something we both worked so hard at achieving.

“Listen to me,” the man became stern, “his education isn’t what’s important now. He’s going through something…” he paused and I became worried about what he might be going through. “We’re helping him in the best ways that matter to him.” I was happy someone was helping him, but at the same time I felt this powerful sense of guilt and grief.

The realization hit me, fairly hard. My son, my daughters, my wife… all those I left behind… I can’t help them. What they’re going through I can no longer be there for them. The feeling of not being there for my kids was a new feeling for me. I had always been there for them.

As I was reeling with this emotional distress and guilt, I woke up from the dream.

Analysis

Having sat with the dream for some time this morning, I came to some conclusions. With the help of HU, and the Mahanta, I believe the meaning has been unlocked. The bowl draining things away, was removing those elements that no longer suited or were needed. When it was drained I would move from the place I was in, to the next. Whatever that may be.

As for the guilt over my son’s education, it was misplaced. As the man had told me sternly, “his education isn’t what is important for him right now.” There was no a gap, a void, between myself and those I left behind. I couldn’t call him, or understand what he’s going through, nor was I able to truly help him anymore. This made me feel guilty.

From this I derived a life purpose: To teach my son the more important things in life, that he can use when I am gone: to learn to give and receive compassion and love. All good things are the karmic result of sending love and compassion to others. As long as he had teachings and guidance on the topic, he would be fine after I am gone.

The ECKist finds that whosoever wants to live shall live, and whosoever wants to love shall love. But whosoever wants hatred shall suffer through the hardships and pangs of discomfort from death to death, through life after life.

Shariyat-Ki-Sugmad, pg 208 Leather Bound Edition