Dreams of Writing, a Conversation with Andrew Sullivan. ...sort of.

I had a dream last night that I ran into Andrew Sullivan at a bookstore, and he and I had a deep conversation. (There was a third person with us, who kept changing identities, but all of the identities were people who I know that have some layer of illusion in their lives.) We talked a bit about his years at Oxford, and eventually we got to the topic of the election last year and the state of our country.

I told him that I've only had one real take away from it all so far, and that is that I have come to re-evaluate humanity, not necessarily our politics. As I scratched the fur on his trademark beagle sidekick, I said that I downgraded my estimation of where we are a species in our spiritual evolution. As the third person in the conversation changed to someone I know very well whose illusions run very deep, I woke up.

When I started this blog, Frank asked me aloud, "why?"  (If you don't know who Frank was, scroll down and read some of my older posts from January 2013.)  He chuckled at the seeming narcissism of writing a blog. "Who will read it?" he asked, and "what is the point?"  I answered that I felt it was mostly about the practice of writing and honing your thoughts. Whether anyone read it was probably less important.

I've fallen out of practice. And I think the appearance of such a noted blogger as Sullivan in my dreams, someone who helped shaped my current outlook on life, society, culture and politics, is my subconscious telling me that I need to keep doing it. I need to do it for me, not for any mythical person who might read it. (Read on, unicorn.)

So, I'm back.  Thanks, Andrew.