All day the sky, when it was not heavily veiled, has been glaucous.
This morning I stood under a nearly-last-quarter moon which resembled nothing so much as this pale moon right here on the background to the blog. There were no wild geese flying under it, however.
Yes – tomorrow we are expecting some rain. And a great big blessing that will be, should it come to pass – for I'm weary of trying to round up the dust of ages every two hours or so from where it has settled on my living room floor.
This morning, just before I found myself standing facing North (the direction of Fire for us Southerners) looking at the moon, I had awoken from a dream of great clarity. It didn't seem to portend much or mean anything in particular; but it was a dream so lucid that for quite a while I was not sure whether I had just woken up or just fallen asleep.
I do not practice the art of lucid dreaming, having far too much dream content to keep tabs on as it is, without willing myself to enter into a control relationship with the damned things. But I found myself still wondering: am I awake now or am I dreaming?
And it has stayed with me all day, this question. Dreaming now, or awake?
Not that I went through the day muddled and confused – although I'm willing to bet that I sound like a terminal case to anyone reading this – rather, I traversed the 'day' in a state of mild euphoria, as if it didn't truly matter which was the Waking and which the Dreaming. I think I've come closer today to a soul level understanding of the proposition that this is all just Lila.
Now, swiftly, ask yourself the question: Dreaming or Waking – which one?