Stalking Vol 2 The Bridge of Reason HTML version
The weather was always moderate—shirt sleeve stuff—with scattered clouds and a slight breeze
that carried the moistened scent of coal soot from the single funnel of a ship at idle. Oriented in
this way, I wandered toward the loading docks until a man about my age approached and
directed me to follow him.
The dream seemed to be about keeping my focus on the entirety of the scene, for every time
I looked away to glimpse my surroundings he disappeared, leaving me standing alone wondering
where I should go. Although I met others along the way, all seemingly caught in the same
circumstance, our expressions conveyed that we were of no help to one another. My feeling was
that I needed to hold my focus while going into the unknown, and that I was not alone.
Feel free to insert this dream a few times a nywhere you desire in this work.
(**)When I later asked Bonnie about the split perception of here and there, she said I was in
the lessons of Four— a Kabala designation that vibrated to mystery. Those engaged in the four
challenge, she said, are seldom kno wn by anyone, even themselves. It is blossoming destiny and
wisdom born of trial and it encompasses the unusual, such as double man / double woman
experiences she would explain later. The overt evidence of this, she said, was that I saw myself
in my dreams. Less obvious indications were signs for her own lessons, such as the woman with
the double stroller, the elderly couple, exactly $20, and the panhandler humming the Trooper
song, "Two for the Show."
(***) When I awakened, the idea of "achieving" immortality was not at all clear.
I arrived at Bonnie’s house the next morning excited to tell her about my dream, but she
greeted me with a tearfully warm smile, and a hot cup of coffee on the table. Lipstick on the rim
of a second cup told me that Bonnie’s coffee was barely touched, as we sat in her two-place
kitchen nook. Sliding her cup aside, while I sipped from mine, she told me what had happened.
As usual on weekend mornings, she was pouring a second cup of co ffee while having a chat
with K ha- lib, and he asked her if she needed it. She said she did not, but she wanted it. Kha- lib
asked her why this was, to which she replied with the same reasons any of us would—habit, and
the desire to more quickly awaken to the light of day. Kha-lib said she was greedy.
Baffled, Bonnie said there was ample coffee, no schedule delayed, or any act of neglect
caused by her having another cup. It was more or less a day in which she could catch up on
menial, but necessary tasks.
I was baffled, as well, which wasn’t nearly as unsettling as it used to be: to anyone who
knew her, Bonnie was anything but greedy. All of her resources had always gone toward her son
and daughter first, and from personal experience she regularly chose to buy me (and others)
coffee and a pastry ahead of buying anything for herself. If she was a collector of anything, it
Bonnie said, "He told me that any practice of want over need was a practice of greed, and
that quantity, availability, timing, and the lack of demands of others had nothing to do with it.
These are the reasons we use to camouflage the true nature of our actions."
"I don’t take things other people need." I said, beginning my defense.
"Perceiving a victim is not a requirement of greed, it is a consequence that doesn’t have to
be apparent in the moment." She stood up and took her nearly full coffee to the sink. Pouring it
down the drain, she said, "The world thinks greed refers to grasping excess. You should think of
it as energy spent on the unnecessary when there are only so many moments in a lifetime, and