A long time ago I had a strange experience where my Dual turntable (a vintage record player) seemed to change speeds all by itself.
Hovering over the device in my usual ritualistic manner, I glanced away for a fraction of a second. When I looked back the cursed thing had changed its speed from 33 to 45 rpm. This was before digital switches. The speed is adjusted with a physical toggle that must be moved by hand.
The sudden change of speed threw me for a loop, considering there were other people in the adjacent room still present after the “switch.”
But being fresh back from India and well versed in New Age lore, my mind wondered if I had slipped into some kind of parallel reality. Was the universe teaching me something through the apparent synchronicity of my Dual turntable signaling a dual reality?
That’s what I considered back then. I was sober-minded enough to take my theory as just that. A possibility. A hypothesis. I wasn’t sure and still cannot know today just what happened or what it meant.
Today, I prefer the term “God” instead of “the universe” because I have had some extraordinary experiences and also an ongoing life of spirit and grace that I wasn’t really aware of back in my pre-internet India days, which sometimes seemed more like a daze.
But I digress.
I’m writing today because last night I had two dreams. Both were incredibly vivid and set in different time periods.
In the first dream, I’m in a rural setting circa mid-twentieth century. I’m very happy with lots of space, quiet and fresh air around me as I watch the country road traffic move along just off in the distance. After a while, however, the vehicles get a bit noisy and I think, “Well, it’s not that quiet!”
The second dream was more long and involved. I’m in a Canadian manor home in the late 19th century. Really beautiful interior. Wooden finishings, linens, drapes but not tacky or overdone. I marvel at the detail and authentic colors of the place. It’s like I’m right there and am fully conscious as I compare it to my slightly cramped 21st century home (today) in Toronto.
I meet a lovely woman along with her brother and mother. The woman and I hit it off and we begin to flirt. Mother and brother are nearby which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable but they don’t seem to care so we carry on flirting. At one point the woman badly injures her small finger and I tell her what to do, thinking there is no modern medicine around.
I awake to the sound of neighbors shoveling snow out my window.
Looking back, I can say that parts of the second dream were too unrealistic to be real. For instance, the woman actually sheered the end of her pinky right off by catching it at the base of her ring. There was no blood, just a small, fleshy stub.
I said “They can stitch it back on… put it on ice.”
Clearly, this aspect was symbolism and not some lived reality.
However, when I got out of bed this morning the theme song from Outlander (a TV show about time travel) came to mind. I didn’t intentionally think about the song. It automatically played in my head.
For a moment I think, Geez, I wonder if we are living several lives in different times and places…
A second or two later, however, I return to my official stance: I do not believe in the idea of reincarnation or, for that matter, living multiple lives in different times and places. But I do think we could at least psychologically connect, in some mysterious way, with souls living in other times and places.
And maybe these dreams, in their rich symbolism, are pointing in that direction.