The Dreaming

The experience of Dreaming is common to all members of our species. Scientists can’t say for certain whether other creatures dream but it’s generally agreed that many species probably do. You’ll spend about one-third of your life asleep and most of that slumber will involve a wide variety of Dreaming events. For me Dreaming holds clues to the true nature of the Mundane World and how we shape it.

I don’t usually write about magic. My speciality is fantasy novels where characters learn to wield magic. You may have encountered one or two of my books. I’m told they’re quite popular.

I don’t claim to know anything about writing. I failed English at high school. My approach to storytelling is somewhat unique and is, in effect, quite magical. I’ve always employed a quite simple method for writing a novel. The night before I intend to begin work on a story I usually haven’t got a clue what it’s going to be about. I don’t know the character’s names or anything about the plot. I don’t plan any part of the process, so I certainly couldn’t tell you how the story’s going to end.

About an hour before my usual bedtime I’ll sit down with a drum or some other musical instrument and set the intention to allow a story to surface. Then I’ll play whatever music comes into my head. I’ll continue making melodies or tapping out rhythms until I can’t stay awake any longer. Then I’ll go to bed. That night I’ll dream the first part of the novel.

The next morning it’s my challenge to write as much of the story down as possible. Sometimes I’ll put in fourteen or fifteen hours trying to record the tale and all the details I can recall about the characters. The next night I’ll sit down with the drum again. When I go to sleep I’ll dream the next part of the story. This goes on until the novel is finished and in this manner I can usually finish a one hundred and eighty thousand word story in about three to four months if I haven’t got too many distractions drawing my attention or duties to perform in the Mundane World.

To date I’ve had sixteen books published; including my autobiography. This book you’re holding is number seventeen. Four of my novels have been best-sellers. All of them are available internationally and are listed on the amazon.com website. So I must be doing something right.

Due to my strangeness I’ve led an extremely isolated life. So for a long time I thought all writers worked the same way as I do. I’d had five books in print before a famous author took me aside and explained to me just how difficult it is to get a book published. I was staggered. I simply couldn’t believe him. The whole process had been so incredibly easy for me.

Two major publishers were engaged in a bidding war over my first novel before I’d even finished it. Of course I’d always wondered why so few people chose to make a living as authors but I’d never imagined that most folks didn’t value their dreams enough to write them down. No one had ever explained it to me. I didn’t realise at the time that my understanding of life is completely at odds with mainstream, materialist society. I’m only just beginning to get my head around how different I am from most people; thanks to guidance from a few friends and wise people I’ve met along the way.

One of those wise people is a Tibetan monk. A few years ago he shared a wonderful story with me about the thirteenth Dalai Lama, who lived at the turn of the twentieth century. This Dalai Lama once sent an emissary to the court of King Edward the Seventh in England to find out what he could about the British, their Empire and their spiritual practices.

When the emissary returned to Tibet he was summoned before the Dalai Lama to present his account. After he’d paid his obeisance he was questioned extensively about his journey and the meetings he’d had with the rulers of the great British Empire. When it came to the matter of the spiritual practices of the English the emissary reported that they were very knowledgeable regarding the true nature of existence.

The emissary had learned a sacred mantra that all young children in the British Empire were required to chant from the moment they learned to speak. He told the Dalai Lama that in just a few short lines this mantra offered advice for living a good life. It also clearly revealed existence as merely an illusion that should not be taken too seriously. Naturally, the Dalai Lama was very excited. He eagerly asked to hear the sacred mantra. The emissary respectfully replied,

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.

Most indigenous cultures on the planet value dreams as a vital ingredient in the experience of life. In Australia our native people have a special relationship with dreams. They’ve been living here on this dry, harsh, inhospitable island continent for more than sixty-five thousand years. Their way of life represents the world’s oldest, continuous civilisation.

What’s more remarkable than their survival in this barren land is that they’ve left no ugly scars to mark their passing. Where European settlers perceived scarcity the Native Australians saw
abundance. They’ve obviously amassed a huge store of wisdom during their stay on this island. Perhaps we should take some notice of what they’ve got to say.

Many Native Australian tribes refer to all existence as The Dreaming. People out in Central Australia still sing sacred songs and dance ancient dances to re-energise and reinvigorate The Dreaming. The Pitjantjatjara people call these songs and dances the Inma.

Nearly twenty years ago an elder at Mimili in the heart of Pitjantjatjaraland explained to me that everyone exists eternally in the Dreaming. He told me that the everlasting part of a person is around before they enter this life, and continues to exist after death in a realm just beyond the perception of most Earth-born mortals. There’s much more to The Dreaming than that. And I don’t claim to be an expert on the rich culture of the Pitjantjatjara; but I do know that in their view singing and dancing are vitally important to the renewal process of all that is.

When I stayed at Mimili I was invited to dance and sing the Inma with people whose ancestors had come to that part of the country long before there was even a concept of history. For me the Inma was always a wonderful experience beyond words to express. On one particular night, lulled by the repetitive verses and the steady click of the song-sticks, I fell into a deeply peaceful state. For a while I forgot where I was. I couldn’t feel my feet kicking up the fine, red dust. I didn’t need to think about the dance-steps.

Timekeeping no longer seemed relevant; its importance in my life faded away like a nightmare that had passed from memory. The shadows came to life with friendly spirits in the flickering firelight. And the Trance took me away as the veil between the Mundane World and the Dreaming Place was lifted.

In my experience Trance is an extremely effective method for opening doorways to other dimensions. Elements of healing, nurturing and ecstatic Bliss arise in deep Trance. If I’m honest with you; such experiences are actually beyond my ability to express in words. Trance has to be experienced through the heart. It can’t be completely understood by the head.

Tibetans and Native Australians aren’t the only indigenous cultures on Earth to view life as a dream-like journey. They aren’t the only humans to practice Trance. Homo Sapiens have been singing and dancing themselves into ecstatic states ever since our species first appeared around two hundred thousand years ago. Evidence for this can be seen painted on cave walls wherever people have been.

Dream as if you’ll live forever.
Live as if you’ll die today.
James Dean.

To me the dreamlike nature of life is obvious and undeniable. I’m sure that in the course of your life you’ve experienced incredible and inexplicable coincidences. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t had strange brushes with the apparently impossible or oddly disturbing night-time visions that perfectly echo aspects of the Mundane World.

I’m convinced that dreams, coincidences and premonitions aren’t mere hallucinations. I’m convinced that the Dreaming Place is the true Reality. This Mundane World is but a pale shadow and a poor substitute for the Bliss of Dreaming. The five Mundane senses severely limit my ability to perceive my surroundings. And life certainly doesn’t offer the same depth of experience I encounter in dreams. Indeed, I consider this material realm to be more of a dream than the Reality of the Dreaming Place.

In my opinion it’s incredibly sad that most westerners dismiss inexplicable encounters with the Dreaming Place and push aside anything that challenges their narrow understanding of Reality. Though we all learn the sacred mantra; Row, row, row your boat, as children; we’re taught to disregard anything that doesn’t fit with what science tells us is possible and true.

In the old days the Churchmen tried to convince their flock that travelling to the Dreaming Place was a dangerous and satanic practice. Today Christian fundamentalists claim that magic is punished with eternal damnation. When I recovered from my childhood fever I was subjected to regimes designed to cure me of my autistic symptoms. I was isolated from others for long periods as punishment for misdemeanours. I used that isolation to learn, step-by-step, how to remember my experiences in the sleeping dream and to participate fully in them. I took the same care with my life in the Mundane World because I found it just as difficult to remember everything that happened to me in waking life. As a boy the days seemed to melt into one another and I often lost track of what was happening.

People and their so-called Reality have always proved challenging for me to work with. But I’ve learned to calm my deep-seated Fear of the Mundane through meditation, breathing exercises and learning to read the signs of danger. After I ran away from home at eighteen my twitches, ticks and strangeness meant I was largely ostracised or demonised by most people I came into contact with. I was forced to spend a lot more of my time alone.

I didn’t realise it then but I was very lucky to have been given the opportunity to be by myself. In fact I’d been freed from many of the day-to-day distractions that haunt most people. When I left my family they completely washed their hands of me and I was further released from the constraints and obligations placed on most young people in mainstream society. The moment I was free from my parents I started to bloom; physically, spiritually and intellectually.

In my early twenties I suddenly took up the life of a travelling recluse; mostly because I was frightened of being institutionalised. Completely on my own, I wandered around India, Europe, the Middle East and North Africa; working at odd jobs here and there. I soon discovered I could quickly learn any language I was interested in; simply by immersing myself in the culture. I started reading books. I sought out spiritual masters, chanted holy mantras, danced with Sufis, took up music and all the while I struggled to discover the secret of how to fit in.

People were sometimes frightened by my intensity and directness. I had to learn to present myself as normal so I didn’t arouse the suspicion that I might be different. I didn’t want to be put in a mental hospital. When I eventually returned to Australia I had enough experience at playing normal that I was able to put myself through a theatre degree at university. This was a great opportunity to learn how to fit in; although I wasn’t always successful in covering my
problems.

I learned a lot at university. Theatre is all about magic. Theatre can be a living, breathing waking-walk into the Dreaming Place. I soaked up all the knowledge and experience my tutors placed in front of me. And I came to realise I probably wasn’t as strange as some aspiring actors. Before I knew it I was slipping under the radar and not being noticed in a crowd.

There are still people who are frightened by my passion, my enthusiasm and my twitches but I don’t encounter them as much as I used to. These days the material culture we live in seems to be generally forgiving of successful defectives such as myself.

Recently I met an armchair expert who said; ‘You can’t be autistic. Autistics can’t write books. Autistics are too retarded to write.’ Negativity isn’t hard to find in this Mundane World. You really don’t have to look far to find it. I don’t take much notice of negative reactions any more because I’ve lived my dreams and I continue to do so. My message to you is; that if someone like me can manifest their desires and be successful, then what’s stopping you?

The only way to discover the limits of the possible is to venture a little
way past them into the impossible.
Arthur C. Clarke

This is an extract from my latest book- What is Magic?
The book may be purchased from my website- www.mahjee.com where you can also see the trailer and shorts for my upcoming documentary What is Magic? due for release in March 2010.