I told the best of my friends I would write about this, as uncharacteristic as it seems. The impact was that stunning.
The other night I had an unforgettable dream. For one thing, it’s the full moon and all. It’s been some time since I’ve had a dream this vivid, and I knew that I would have to share it. For 24 hours after, I couldn’t find the words. My mouth would hang open, my eyes fill to the brim. Here goes.
I was standing in a room with a guide. Expectant, awaiting. I would be meeting someone soon. And then I realized I was standing backstage about to meet Michael Jackson as soon as his performance was over.
Whaaat? I’m no hysterical fan. I share only everyone’s appreciation for his musical genius and discomfort with everything that came after. Still, collective consciousness weaves its way into unwitting spaces.
He entered and stood before me. Instead of a shadow of black, a camouflage of dark costuming, he was enrobed in yellow light. I stared into his open and unlined face. It was pure, unblemished. There was no shield or barrier; no fabricated drape of hair, hat or sunshade. I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine and I thought to myself, I could look at him forever.
Honestly, I could cry at the recollection.
Just at the moment I’ve realized what a contortion self-image is, how we cripple and mutilate ourselves with false identity, the confines of our shame and guilt, I have an audience to prove the point. This is Michael without that. Without the guise and defense; the self-hatred. This is pure love.
He said to me, I’ll be seeing a lot of you.
I said, I’ll be seeing a lot of you too.
And then I realized where I was, where we’ll all be, when we make that change.
ah. When i was in my twenties, I had a strong and powerful urge to write to him and go and help him with his life. I had an idea that if he just had regular people around him, he'd be ok. I never did it, never even wrote the letter but LOVE your dream for the hope and glow that it contains, for him but moreso for you and all of 'us'…
Comment by wifemotherexpletive — November 4, 2009 @ 12:44 pm
wow! what a powerful dream.
Comment by Wendy — November 4, 2009 @ 3:42 pm
Wonderful Karen–if, as my psychotherapist says, everyone in our dreams is US–who is the Michael in you?
🙂
Angel
Comment by Angel — November 4, 2009 @ 4:03 pm
Same as you, Angel, same as you, and that's the point.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — November 4, 2009 @ 4:07 pm
The point exactly – and a powerful one at that.
Comment by Renae C. — November 4, 2009 @ 8:34 pm
I love this dream. I love that you shared it. I love that I get to think back on my own dreams of Tiger Woods and Roger Federer, those "gloves off" moments with them – and do the same thinking and crying and giving thanks that I can take of the masks and be me. So many pages of my journal will be filled with responses and questions and thoughts as a result of this post. Thank you so much, Karen. So very much.
Sweet dreams to you again and again.
Comment by GailNHB — November 4, 2009 @ 10:25 pm
Well, here's my little opinion, nothing worth. That wasn't Michael. That was Him. I have heard so many people describe dreams very similar to this one. He was present to them in different guises, all of them non-threatening, if a little odd. People they knew or knew of, but didn't really have much of a strong connection to. And the encounter always left them with the powerful feelings you describe. I had my own such dream. He visited in the guise of an older boy from high school on whom I had a vague crush. I will never forget it as long as I live.
Comment by Anonymous — November 4, 2009 @ 10:54 pm
Of course, Anonymous, that's my point! But I prefer to call Him by all other names: one day Michael, one day Anonymous.
We'll all have to see for ourselves, won't we?
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — November 4, 2009 @ 11:05 pm
I wish that someone could have hlped MJ too. I wish I could have. Perhaps he would still be here today. As someone else said – that was a powerful dream.
Comment by Anonymous — November 5, 2009 @ 4:53 am
The big TV is seeping into your nervous system 🙂
Comment by Chris Austin-Lane — November 5, 2009 @ 7:09 am
I like this…
Comment by Elissa — November 5, 2009 @ 2:34 pm
Chris, that's it! It's the one room I don't go into. Of course, it could also be the bowl of leftover Hershey's.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — November 5, 2009 @ 4:18 pm
sublime.
Comment by Terri Fischer — November 5, 2009 @ 10:40 pm
Wow — I'm struck by how you had that pure moment of recognition. If we could always see with that vision . . . (I've been having some strong dreams, too. Maybe it is the Halloween candy, or the moon, or the collective unconscious, or ??? LOL)
Comment by Judy Merrill-Smith — November 6, 2009 @ 4:51 am