Catt Scratches

So last night, I had a marathon dream. It was kind of kooky, but hey, it was a dream right? It was a night time marathon, and I was about halfway done and the route got a little crazy and arcane. You had to really pay attention, because the route kept going in and out of houses and through parking lots. You had to keep searching for race monitors, who would not tell you where to go, but if you asked them if you were going the right way, they would give you a confirming nod. I got to a place in a building which was like a loading dock in a warehouse. Runners who had gotten there before me were sitting on stairs, heading down the dock to the doors where a truck would empty its load if there had been a truck; the doors were closed. I got to the spot, I saw a few race monitors with clipboards and red shirts. I realized the runners who had gotten there before me were just sitting there staring at the door, chatting among themselves. I said to a monitor, “Why is the door locked?” He said, “Is it?” I looked at him and then trotted down the stairs, pushed the door open and found the rest of  the course. 
Outside, there was a bleacher full of people, runners, I think, who were just sitting there, resting. One of them, was my old college roommate, who I haven’t seen in 41 years. He had transferred to Maharishi International University in Fairfield, Iowa because he wanted to learn how to levitate. I confronted him, he recognized me, and we hugged with a fierce intensity. “i’ve changed,” I said, ” but you look exactly the same.” He nodded, smiling a beautiful, enlightened smile. I said, “I’ve got to finish this race. Can we meet later?” He smiled, and I took off, getting directions for the rest of the marathon from a monitor and then realizing that ther was still a lot more to run.
And then  I woke up. I just had to open the door, I thought. And I started to think of the Serenity Prayer, not knowing why I made that association. When I quit drinking fifteen years, seven months and seven days ago, (but who’s counting?), I kept the Serenity Prayer uppermost in my mind. Everyone who has done or knows someone who has done or thought about doing a twelve step program in the last century has heard it: God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Recently, I have come to think about God in lest of a personified way and to look at the bible as a book of dreams edited by the ruling class. So I haven’t been asking God for serenity or courage or wisdom. And I realized after the dream, that serenity and courage and wisdom were qualities that I already possessed in ample quantities: I just had to tap into them. If I want to accept, I can accept. If I want to be brave, I can be brave. And wisdom arrrives in direct proportion to my exercise of serenity and courage. I am my own means of production.