My friend Chuck

I just got the news that my friend Chuck committed suicide.  This is a truly tragic loss. I am in shock and grieving.

Part of the grieving process is feeling guilty. I knew he was going through a difficult time, but I wasn't as available as I should have been and wanted to be. I spoke to him a couple months ago, and meant to stay in touch. I  thought of him several times the past few weeks, and intended to call, but I didn't call.  Why didn't I call?  I let my own worries and life distractions prevent me from calling.  I wish I had called. It might have prevented it, it might not have, but at least he would have known, in his last moments, that I cared about him.

Part of the grieving process is anger. But it's mostly anger at the systems and the people who tormented him and drove him to take this final action.  His wife for being really nasty in the divorce process and alienating him from his kids, who were his life's joy. The legal system that makes divorce 100 times harder than it should be and allows people to torment other people. Our fake, materialistic culture that punishes creative and moral souls while rewarding those who are shallow and egotistical. Our mental health system for over-relying on drugs and profit while neglecting the human and compassionate approaches to treatment.  The American economy that doesn't look out for the weak or for people down on their luck.  The American Evangelical Christian culture of judgmentalism and brainwashing, creating presumed insiders and outsiders to God's love.  (I shudder to think what those horrible, evil church people are telling his beautiful children.  "Because your daddy didn't accept Jesus in his heart, he is now burning in hell!" Those idiotic, narrow-minded, nasty, brainwashed people! They have absolutely zero concept of true spirituality or the nature of God!)  I know Chuck made a choice, and the ultimate responsibility is on him.  I'm sure he regrets it now.  But I'm not angry at him. He had a terrible moment of weakness.  I'm angry at everything that drove him to feeling that he couldn't cope anymore.

I'm also a wee bit jealous, to be honest.  His suffering and struggles are over. He can find peace now.  I know it's terrible to say it, because this means his adorable children will suffer horrifically from losing him.  There's nothing that will make that easier or better or right.  But as far as Chuck is concerned, he is in a better place.  He doesn't have to struggle to find money, to find shelter, to shush the voices tormenting his mind, to worry about the legal strategies for getting to see his kids again, to worry about pleasing a boss or clients, or worry about anything else.

I can't afford to travel to Chicago to attend his funeral, and I'm feeling helpless to do anything to alleviate the situation. I don't know his family or most of his friends to be able to commiserate.  Chuck and I met through the online Atheism for Lent course, and have been good, distant, online friends ever since, but our daily-life circles didn't cross. I don't have money to contribute to the gofundme account for his children. I can't do anything.

I can't do anything, but I can honor the person he was, at least in my own small way.

I knew him as a truly good man. He was a devoted and caring father, and a survivor who overcame horrors most of us would be decimated by.  Despite all the difficulties in his life, his intelligence, creativity, wit, and profound morality shone through.  He was wise and self-aware.  He had not only a deep mental intelligence, but keen emotional intelligence as well.  He was not afraid to express his feelings, which is a rare trait for a man in today's world.

Physically, he was gentle and unimposing in appearance. But mentally he was formidable.  His knowledge on a host of subjects was vast, and his ability to navigate complicated philosophical subjects with deft ease was simply amazing.  I looked up to his intelligence, and greatly admired his ability to express it.  And yet, unlike many whose intelligence is far to the right on the bell curve, he was compassionate and never arrogant.  He would put you in your place if you needed it, but he never did so just to feel superior or to boost his ego.  He cared about truth and beauty and morality and experience, and was never shallow enough to play any kind of ego games.

Chuck also had great insight into the human psyche.  He was a playwright, and his plays he gave me the honor of reading explored tapestries of emotions without ever approaching either melodrama or kitsch.  He practiced meditation and non-judgmental, body-based emotional processing, and was not afraid to share his feelings openly with his friends.

The world is truly a worse-off place without Chuck to brighten it.  I miss him, and wish I could have at least said good-bye.

Vinegar and Vomit

Last night I dreamed there was a pot of disgusting, brown, chunky liquid on my counter, and I kept adding vinegar to it, but it never got fuller.  Every time I added vinegar, it fizzed and bubbled.

It's a powerful image that brought tears to my eyes today when I remembered it, even before I knew what it meant.  Still, I probably wouldn't have interpreted it, had I not experienced a synchronicity--I went over to a friend's house, and there in the sink was a crock pot that was soaking, waiting to be washed.  It was full of -- you guessed it -- brown chunky liquid.  It was at that point that I decided to interpret the dream.

The dream references a few recent events from my waking life.  One is something that happened sometime last week. I tried to make biscuits using baking soda instead of baking powder, and I used vinegar to try to neutralize the alkaline of the soda. When I added vinegar to the dough, it fizzed in the same way as the dream. Despite my chemical ingenuity, the biscuits still turned out terribly!  The other event this dream references is the stomach bug I got a few nights ago, that had me vomiting every hour, all night.  (The brown stuff in the dream was kind of like the vomit in the toilet. Very gross.) I am, today, still recovering, though I'm feeling better and haven't vomited since.  The dream happened while in recovery from my illness.

What does it mean? In the dream I was trying to neutralize a concoction, bring a balance between acid and base. The dream is about me trying to force a balance into an issue of life. This balancing effort will probably not be successful, like the biscuits, unless I look deeper and do some smarter intervention.  Now I'll examine the symbols.
First, the vomit.  It's something that's supposed to be inside, nourishing my body, but it has come out into the open.  I need to ask myself, "Where in my life do I feel like what is supposed to be inside, nourishing me, is misplaced?"
Next, the vinegar--acid.  Words I associate with vinegar are: burning, sharp, strong, and salad dressing.  The efforts I'm using are more sharpness, more strength.  It could be something good, if I mixed it with better ingredients, like when I make salad dressing with vinegar as one of the ingredients; but in its raw state, it is too harsh.  It creates bubbles and boils, rather than balance and beauty.  "Where in my life am I using too much sharpness and strength?"

Aha.  When I asked myself these questions, the meaning of the dream became clear.  The evening before the dream, I lost my temper at someone close to me.  I was already feeling physically terrible, due to being sick, and what this person did just infuriated me.  All I wanted to do was GET TO BED so I could REST, and he was putting all these obstacles in my path AND being mean on top of that!   On a normal day I probably would have managed it better, but I was not feeling well, and I blew my top.
I immediately regretted losing my temper, and apologized, but that guilt remained.  I don't believe in violence.  How could I have let myself be so harsh?  I know better ways of dealing with these situations.  Where did that anger come from? The dream is showing that, despite efforts I've made to the contrary, I still have a gut-level belief that harshness will "correct" bad behavior, even though I know, mentally, that it won't.  It shows that I am taking what should be nurturing feelings (giving into a relationship with someone I love), and making those feelings about ME, and then trying to correct that selfishness in an inappropriate way.

It's important to remember that every symbol in the dream somehow is about the dreamer.  The vomit in the dream is my view of the bad behavior. The vomit doesn't represent the actions of the person I was angry at, but rather how I FEEL about those actions.  The vinegar is my harsh strength that came spilling out through the weakness, called sickness, it found in my armor. When I use harshness to try to correct someone, I'm REALLY trying to bring relief and balance to my own feelings, not to his behaviors alone.  How much better to be "neutral" (pun unintentionally discovered!) and focus on his actions alone, without trying to bring my feelings into the mix?

What I can do to neutralize my feelings and lose my temper less?  Visualize that pot of disgusting liquid turning into a fresh, crisp, healthful, vibrant salad, and the vinegar becoming my favorite salad dressing (Annie's Green Garlic).  I'll visualize this several times a day for a month, until I feel a shift in how I respond to irritating situations.

What this exercise does: Changes my feelings about bad behavior. Rather than other people's irritating behavior being perceived as something disgusting to be eradicated, like vomit, they are opportunities to learn and grow, just as a salad is an opportunity to become more healthy.  My anger can be harnessed in healthy ways, as vinegar can be mixed with other ingredients and made into a delicious salad dressing.


What a gross dream!  Have you had a gross dream you would like interpreted?  Go to my website to learn how I can help you!  www.sleepingrealities.com