5. Vipassana. The Dreams

by HelluvaGirl

Disclaimer: This is a personal experience of a novice in Vipassana, presented as a series of insights, not an attempt to render advice or explain the technique in full extent, and should not be taken as guidance or a comprehensive course report. 


And then come the dreams.

There’s a whole world, and not just one.

I dream agoraphobic squares in strange cities where there is no sign of people. I dream backyards where the air whispers threatening promises. I dream piers in secluded townships. Wherever I go, there is always a thick sense of something watching me intently.

And I dream Pia.

She is always there with me until I lose her. We are looking for our home, staring at the walls of once-grand buildings which now face us in grim silence, as if they were in fact speaking to the most fearful corners of our souls. There’s Presence around them, which bends my knees with fear, although I try to stay composed and just walk. Never run.

She keeps getting lost. She disappears between bungalows on apathetic lake shores. She gets into black cars at night time, and I am so incapable that I don’t even realise I have to run after her immediately, chase her, stop whatever it is that’s setting us apart.

And there is another child.

Either in my watermelon-hard belly, or on my arms, already several months old. Sometimes he’s a toddler who plays next to me with Pia sitting in the background. The child stays there when Pia is gone.

Sometimes, I dream of the same dreadful places which I have visited several nights or days ago in my sleep. I recognise them, and I hold Pia’s hand tightly as we walk.

Have you seen The Cell? Welcome to my world.

But then there’s something else happening, too. I wake up from my own burst of full-mouthed laughter. It’s happened once or twice during my whole life, but here, I wake up laughing in the middle of the night to hear my cell mate move between her sheets to look at me. I wake up from a nap I try to steal on every occasion during the day, giggling uncontrollably. Every day.

Now, she must think I am crazy.