We make our own dreams and pursue or dreams. Or our dreams are given to us as hope and alternatives to an unacceptable reality. Our dreams are the fabric of our ambitions and that fabric to a great extent comes from the world around us. We may appreciate that world or as I already said choose to dream an alternative. Dreams are also milestones to better dreams - higher and holier things, and battles against false ideas of what is higher and holier.
But when do you know you are on the right track with the formation of your dreams? When are your dreams truly a mark of your own Spirit - and respectively a mark of your own Glory, which is inexorably bound to and with your Spirit? When your dreams have spilled out on to the world around you and begin to make their mark - you could claim to be on the road to success if not already having achieved what you desire. It isn't hard to see that this crucible can be a great stumbling block of delusion and barriers of illusion. Then what certainty have you that you are truly on the right track - that path that is truly yours? It is not merely a mark of your Glory to have painted a few walls. Any fool can write on the wall. But when others read "the writing on the wall" that is yours and say "and so it goes" - then surely you are on the right path. For then you have been recognised in your truest form, all masks and illusions of who and what you truly are removed from the view of all spectators before you. Furthermore - you have made your mark not merely on a wall but have become in the minds of others another totem around which to dance or from which to flee and dread. Either way - your territory and path has been marked as yours. But the greatest recognition comes from ones own family. Your neighbourhood and town may fail to recognise you for their ignorace - but when your father sees your path then your own prophethood has been observed.
What dreams you give your father - or mother or siblings - are the most sincere mark of your Glory. Glory - not merely everyday 'success' such as career or other trivial achievements recognised by the State and other empty dehumanising institutions. That lacks spirit, humanity and relationship in all dimensions. When your father sees your path, dreams of your path and actions - your being and doing - and reiterates that to you - surely you come to know thyself as he has come to realise you in your growth. Let me give myself as an example.
When I was 22 years old - my father called me to his room, with the most severe countenance - no expression have I ever seen on that mans face more solemn and severe than on that day. I stood before him expecting some battle until he raised his eyes to the ceiling and raised his hands and said emphatically:
"I don't know how or why this came to me but it did. And I blame you for my 'bad dreams'." He smiled mischievously and I could only ask "Why? What???"
And his words were as follows:
"I dreamt that I was running away from the cops with several friends. We hid in a farmyard owned by two wealthy and very proper old ladies. Wearing gold rimmed glasses, immaculate grey hair, pearl earrings and necklaces and crisp well ironed white blouses. These old women gave us permission to hide in their farm.
As we moved around the outbuildings we saw you and your closest friend preparing for pranks. There you were, pulling all the farm animals by their ears, shoving them from behind, bringing them together to copulate out in the open. You were causing all the animals to participate in a giant farmyard orgy - laughing hysterically to yourselves, as you put pig upon sheep, sheep upon goat, horse upon cow and so on.
We walked by these copulating animals - which were everywhere, all grunting and mooing and baaing and groaning. Shit and piss was everywhere - and you spread it around with large yard brushes. And then my friends and I walked between two tall towers more than ten feet high - made completely of animal dung. The stink was unbelievable. Atop both towering dungheaps you placed pigs who were now fucking one another and shitting from above. My friends and I were so ashamed and horrified yet you and your friend were rolling in hysterics.
The old ladies stood sternly at the porch of their house, looking on in dismay. I approached them and asked lamely "I'm very sorry about all this. Can we still stay here?"
The old ladies simply said "No. You can't stay here any longer. Look what your boys have gone and done. You can't stay, I'm sorry."
We apologised once more and vacated the property as you and your friend remained, cajoling all the animals in their orgy."
My father could only stand with a wry grin as he finished his dream, and stood on in shock as I laughed. He argued that I caused his dream - for this is "what I'm all about and nothing else". My point is clear - I am the Prophet Of Sodom and I bring an end to excessive chauvinism represented by those old women. This my father recognised very early on. It was in his deepest mind an immutable fact and never again did he argue against any of my actions or words on these matters. For four years prior since I was 18 he could not believe my role in this world, the nature of my Spirit or Glory - but I wrote on the wall often enough that it became imbued in his dreams. My dreams were in his. There was no further denial.
Quod erat demonstrandum!
Be yourself and push yourself to the absolute limit such that nobody can continue to deny your true nature and Path! Make them dream your dream then surely they will know you and appreciate you for who you are.
Hail Sodom!
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