Dream Machine

It was straight out of a science fiction movie.

I put on the headset. Light and sound waves began dancing in front of closed eyes and tickling pressure points on my ears. A calm voice at just the right frequency began speaking to me saying all the right things, in just the right way.

It’s called brain tap. Developed to get you to a meditative state of being without all the work.

It was fucking awesome.

As someone who has been to their unconscious mind in complete peace. Heard their inner voice speak to them. I can say that this machine took me there in twenty minutes. A singular deep realization revealing itself to me. In fact, the exact message the program I had chosen was designed to unveil.

I am successful.

And the knowledge that the person I want to be is possible if I feel this fully.

The session ends rather abruptly. And I get up a little dazed. I walk out into a room full of people and am shuffled outside quickly to where the air is crisp and dark. Dotted by stars and a bright moon.

I feel relaxed. In a situation that only minutes before had me uncomfortably shifting against countertops and perched on chairs.

My friend’s girlfriend approaches me.

Español, she asks?

Si, I reply.

And suddenly, instead of tongue tied and searching. I find words easily flowing from my mouth. My mind is not tight with formulating a response, impairing my ability to comprehend. I am listening. Responding back. Having a conversation.

I know Spanish.

I go to get my dinner. There are two seating options. One, a group of familiar faces. English speakers. All crowded around a coffee table, casually sitting on the floor and on couches. It looks easy and inviting.

And two, at the table. In Spanish. With people I don’t know.

I go for the latter. To challenge myself in the ways I know I need to. Those uncomfortable spaces where I don’t know what to say. Where I can to draw on my confidence. Realize that I can be successful in everything I do. And become that person I want to be. Myself all the time. Not hindered by language or insecurity or circumstance. Someone who can slide in anywhere and be at home. Spanish. English. French. German. Varying levels of each floating through the air. Conversations mixed and matched for maximum expression. And I’m doing okay. Participating. And actually enjoying it.

We move outside for the sound bath. Where the language of music takes hold under the full moon. Fire blazing. Drums beating. Bowls chiming. Bodies contorting. The occasional cleansing howl piercing through the night.

I feel my spine tingle as someone passes by, ringing a tuning fork in my ear moving the vibrations around my head like a massage. Stretch long and wide. Eyes closed. Forehead to the ground.

It ends as abruptly as my brain tap session. Leaving me just as dazed under the night sky. I flutter my arms like wings to release the energy that has built up. Chasing my son, who is so full of it, that even at ten o’clock, he’s running as fast as he can around the yard.

Chase me, he says.

And I do.

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