Omer Day Thirty-Six
I had a dream that I had back surgery, based, I suppose, on a terrible "incident" I've been dealing with since Sunday--a lot of lower back pain.
In the dream, I am lying on the floor and watching myself get therapy for my back. The therapy is an iPad, being surgically attached to my lower back. There is a hushed tone of quiet, careful, medical talk in the room. The iPad is glowing blue and humming away at my muscular-skeletal structure, and one of those iconic, white Apple cords is attached to some mysterious source. In the dream, my subject body is eerily still; but the observer me is deeply agitated.
"It's not the back, it's the nerve center," I say, trying to remain calm, to no one in particular. I want to speak to people in the dream about what, without a doubt, is happening to our bodies, our musculature, as a result of our eyes, heads, necks and backs bending this way and that in obeisance to our miniature, hand-held, glowing gods. How we think we own but how in fact we're being owned--by the companies that make them and the advertising and marketing networks that drive these engines of human re-engineering.
I emerge from the dream feeling very unresolved but deeply interested in landscape architecture (weird, eh?) Landscape. To stand tall, unbent, and envision a horizon with its own colors, aglow with an older, truer truth. The Israelites, former slaves, marched for 40 years to straighten the spine, to rebuild their broken backs of pain and begin anew.
Davka--instead of looking for a class on line, I think I'll walk over to the Botanic Garden on Friday afternoon and look for a class. And sign up for it in pen and paper. Standing tall. And then walk through the landscape, singing of horizons, toward home.