Well, as much as I would like to make the focal point of this post a well-researched, multi-hyperlink tribute to Albert Hofmann first synthesizing LSD on this day in 1938…
…I am once again in the position where I either write this post on my phone flat on my back with almost no preparation, or not post at all today.
So let’s get going.
Before sleeping last night I actually prayed, in my own hesitant agnostic probably-too-wishy-washy way.
And what did I pray about? I frankly asked God what the heck my purpose has been, and continues to be. Just so I can finally plan out my life; because why not? That would seem like the sensible, practical thing to do. Six-month plan, year-long-plan, five-year-plan, etc.
I was also feeling a little bit depressed that I never had kids & that it’s looking more and more like that’s just the way it’s going to be. I don’t always feel this sense of regret. But when I do, I prefer Dos Equis.
And so to my honest surprise, I actually had a dream last night telling me what my “purpose” was, and all that jazz.
I’m not going to go into the exact symbolism of the dream, as it involves old comedies from the 1970s & questionable interpretations of anagrams & lots of highly personal and obscure shit. But I’ll tell you the meat of the dream.
My dream communicated to me that my purpose is to work with & teach younger souls. Not necessary “young people” (for of course you can have a child with a Betty White-aged soul)—but rather, souls in the midst of evolutionary development.
In fact, I will disclose one of the obscure symbols the dream used to communicated this concept to me, which was Walter Matthau in 1976’s The Bad News Bears.
(Just as a bit of trivia regarding the clip above, one of the boys in that scene is played by Jackie Earle Haley…you know, Rorschach in Watchmen.)
Now, at this point I would like to make an official protest to God or my scumbag subconscious or Don Juan Matus or whomever the fuck gave me that dream.
First: I haven’t been working literally my fucking ass off to lose weight & look sexy over the last month-and-a-half only to be compared to Walter Matthau. That’s some bullshit right there.
Second: I do not want to be in charge of the metaphorical “Bad News Bears” because that’s a thankless job full of stress and strife, dealing with a bunch of mouthy, ill-tempered hyperactive brats.
In short: I want my Award, and I want a frozen blue daiquiri on the virgin shores of Costa Rica. And that’s it.
Back to my dream: so yeah, it was like “your purpose is to teach & coach & nurture younger souls.” And that I was not going to have kids, in part because of my larger, broader spirit-vocation. And that my soul has purposely turned down offers throughout my life to take on more traditionally successful (a.k.a. capitalist) vocational opportunities for this very reason.
This is all not a surprise to me. I guess I just needed to have it all laid out in front of me just one more time, in a more-or-less definitive way. Don’t really think I’m at that developmental level myself to assume such a role, as I’m still somewhat of a quivering, quaking mess of ego-tremors. I still have a long, loooooong fucking way to go myself. But whatever.
Ten years ago I wrote a X-Men one-shot about Emma Frost, and pretty much came to the same conclusion my dream had last night:
Well, that’s it for today. Thanks for reading. Talk to you later. And don’t let the bastards get you down.