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Game of Thrones

4/30/2014

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I’ve had a crazy reoccurring dream for about twenty years now and I just can’t seem to shake it. The dilemma is always the same; I’m walking around in an unfamiliar urban area and I have the uncontrollable urge to take a poop. I approach person after person on the street and inquire as to the location of the nearest restroom, but each person I confront just turns their head and acts as if they didn’t hear a word I said. As I continue to walk, I realize that this is becoming a more and more pressing issue. Eventually, I come across an old man sitting on a bench in front of what appears to be his shop. This time, when I pose my question, he just turns and points to what looks like a bombed out building on the other side of a huge open lot strewn with large chunks of concrete and twisted steel.  I attempt to make my way across the lot, navigating over each more treacherous pile of rubble on my quest to reach the restroom on the other side. Finally, I arrive at the door marked “Men’s Room” and as I walk inside, I am confronted with the most neglected public restroom I’ve ever seen. All the plumbing is broken and spewing water. Trash is strewn everywhere and a fowl stench fills the air. I pull open the first stall door to reveal a toilet that someone forgot to flush. When I open the next stall door, all I find is a hole in the floor where the toilet used to sit. Then I come to the third and final door, where I find what appears to be my best chance for relief. Behind this door is a huge pile of broken glass, jagged bathroom tile and discarded plumbing.  At the summit of this monstrosity sits a pristine golden commode beckoning me forward, so I decide to attempt my ascent. The route is treacherous with many setbacks and quite a few injuries along the way, but eventually I make it to the top and take my rightful place upon the golden throne. Now here’s the rub: once I have reached my lofty goal, I am unable to relieve myself no matter how hard I try and that’s when I wake up. I was lucky enough to have Martha Beck personally interpret my dream for me and as it turns out poop dreams are very common. What she explained is that poop often represents an expression of our creativity that in this case appears to be blocked. That’s how dream analysis works; you break the dream down into symbols and a then take a look at each one individually.

Do you have a reoccurring dream that you’d like to make sense of or a very vivid dream you had last night and just can’t seem to shake? If so, I’d like to take this opportunity to invite all of my readers (that means the both of you) to take me up on one free dream analysis. Just place a pen and paper next to your bed and as soon as you wake up from a vivid dream, write down as much detail as possible. Don’t worry if what you’re writing doesn’t seem to make sense.  It probably won’t. What matters is that you write down as much detail as possible, as quickly as possible before it all slips away. Then, send me an email with the details to wali@thegratefuldude.com. I will reply to your email with a couple of possible dates and times for you to choose from to discuss the symbolism and meaning of your dream. Please make sure that you choose a time for me to call when you can be in a private and comfortable place in order to work through the process.

Dream on dudes. Dream until your dreams come true.


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    About Wali,
    The Grateful Dude

    In my formative years, I was lucky enough to attend an amazing high school modeled after the freedom school from the Billie Jack films. The curriculum included outdoor education, pottery and organic farming and emphasized values like creativity, self awareness and a strong sense of community. I spent several summers traveling from show to show with The Grateful Dead and found that not only could I beat the crap out of a plastic bucket in a drum circle, I was also quite the imported beer salesman. My early career started off in the eighties driving limousine for posers, drug dealers and wannabe rock stars in Los Angeles. In the late eighties, I was introduced to the former owner of Paradise Lakes Nudist Resort who had just seduced and proposed to my roommate while she was on vacation in Florida. Fred took me aside one afternoon  and told me, “I like you, kid and since I’m taking your roommate and I’m pretty sure you can’t afford this beach rental on your own, why not come on out to Florida? I’ll find you a place to stay, give you a job and you’ll be surrounded by naked women”. So I loaded up my truck and moved to Paradise. Lakes, that is. Swimmin’ pools. Porno stars. (insert banjo solo here).

    I wake up every morning (well almost every morning) knowing that today is a wonderful gift to be unwrapped and explored. I believe that every day is filled with limitless possibilities and endless abundance. I’m convinced that our true purpose in life is to interact with our fellow beings and give witness to this amazing universe that surrounds us.

    If you are searching for miracles in life, you need go no farther than your backyard to realize that we are living in the midst of the greatest miracle of all.

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