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Every now and then people will ask me about any early experiences I might have had as a child, and prior to 1978. Below are a few that I can remember. |
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Many times as a child, and later into my adult life, I had a
recurring dream in which I was wearing some sort of brown robe, and
flying over a very desolate, mountainous region. In my dream I
could see a town below me with one distinct feature that I always
used as a landmark: there was a large, multi-storied stone
building, fairly rectangular, on a small hill; and behind it was an
enclosed open area that looked something like a parade ground or a
sports field. Whenever I flew over the area I would drop blessings
on the town: as a child I always thought of it as being like
Tinkerbell flying around dropping pixie dust. Many years later I
came across a copy of National Geographic from 1978 in a
second-hand book store. The magazine had a full page picture of the
very area I flew... |
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Read more...
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I've always remembered being one with infinite light before I was born, then falling through layers of color to wind up on the physical plane. And always wanting to get back to the infinite sun. Always feeling emptiness, the emptiness of feeling separated from that light, and trying to fill that emptiness to make up for the feeling of separation from the infinite sun. Filling the feeling with what people call “life”, with relationships, with projects, with work, with distractions. And in the end, everything always just got in the way, and I always knew whatever I was doing wasn't what I really wanted. |
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When I was seven or eight, just old enough to see over the kitchen counter top, I remember standing in the kitchen, looking at the tile behind the counter, feeling as though I was trapped in someone else's dream. And that dream was a kind of collaborative effort of my mother and father, their parents, plus people at large. And I kept trying to wake up from the dream, to get myself untangled from someone else's dream. My body, my personality, my “Roger” was this collaborative dream I was stuck in. I later realized that for me to be able to recognize I was in the dream meant that I was awake in the dream. |
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I got kicked out of Sunday school twice, once before I was six, and once again when I was about eight: both times for asking too many questions. I never went back. On the other hand, I loved going to church, especially Catholic high mass— I liked the idea of it, what it represented in its purest form. I went with my father and his wife to Europe when I was sixteen— and I annoyed the hell out of them because I always wanted to spend all my time in the cathedrals: Notre Dame in Paris, Westminster in England, Marienkirche in Munich. Which I now find strange, since I have next to no interest in ceremony or ritual. I guess it was just what I had to work with at the time. |
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