The other day I had a dream. I jumped off something very, very high up in the sky. Maybe a cloud. Maybe even heavens. I jumped off right into an unimaginably deep, steep free fall. Without parachute, yet totally fearless. I just knew nothing could happen to me. But then, suddenly, out of nowhere, doubt crept it.
It was the strangest thing. I was flying in mid air, without any care, when this thought suddenly hit me: How can I be so sure that I would be safe? Still flying I contemplated the unpleasant prospect of crushing into the ground. I wasn’t actually scared. It was more like a silent contemplation: What if I’m not so safe after all?
It’s in this brief moment that I opened the door to fear. And then I was scared for myself.
However, I still don’t know how I did it, but I somehow managed to catch myself, not physically but mentally. I suddenly remembered that when I originally jumped off there had been no doubt whatsoever. I simply knew: Nothing could hurt me. I must have had access to a different kind of knowledge then. And I trusted it.
The moment I remembered this, I was back on track. I was back trusting the trust I had briefly given up on. What resulted was an extremely empowering, invigorating feeling. I suddenly felt full of energy, confidence and huge excitement, resuming my fearless drop into the unknown.
And more than that: I let out a huge battle cry, a triumphant whoop of joy, a belly-deep yelp of delight. Like the involuntary cry-laughter that just slips out of your mouth when you go up on a roller coaster and then plunge right back deep down and then right back up into a swirling loop. Knowing that you’re buckled in safely and can just enjoy the ride.
As I fell, whooping and yelling, I saw the lower clouds come closer, then punctured their soft blanket, sliding right through it. Then I saw a big wall appear to my left and one to my right, first far away from each other, then moving closer together. Until they finally formed a sort of apartment block into which I slowly descended.
And there I was, softly landing at its bottom. Right in the basement.
I saw men, workers, rearrange stuff. Like in the machine room of a ship. They were moving furniture or machines around, busying themselves with work I didn’t understand. Work I felt I didn’t need to understand, as they seemed to know what they were doing.
So I just briefly peaked inside a room or two. And then left to let them do their job.
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