A dream I had on 3/29/08

Last night I had the following dream: flowing out of some previous dream sequence, which I don’t remember, I found myself riding my motorcycle down Kingwood Drive in heavy traffic, headed out of the subdivision. It was at night, and there was the usual dim, pallor created by passing streetlights, and outside the hazy bubbles of lamplight, the black darkness. The moist night wind was in my hair. Riding along I noticed to my right, a platform about shoulder-level – it was the bed of a flat-bed truck. I was not aware of the cab or driver, only the platform immediately before my eyes to the right. On the platform was a hospital bed with my dad sleeping in it, tilted up in the adjustable bed, just like my last hazy dream-like contact with him in the hospital. He was out in the open air, and we both drove along together in the wind and motor noise. My motorcycle was right next to him, and I was surprised to encounter him like this, because…well, what are the chances of looking over and seeing your dad in the vehicle next to you?

Preventing him from rolling out was a foot-high pane of Plexiglas along the side of the platform, and he was slumped sideways, mouth open, either asleep or more likely, in a fog of sedation. He was in a white gown and all white sheets, and he was unshaven and hair tousled as when he’s been in the hospital for several days. When I saw him, I was very happy and excited. I felt like a little boy again and tried to get his attention, “Dad! Hey Dad! Dad!” I was able to get right next to the platform and reach over the Plexiglas to touch his hair. I wanted to rouse him enough to say Hi. He looked up at me through the plastic pane and his face showed recognition, and he reached over one of his unmistakable hands which had an i.v. dangling along with it, and he gently held my four fingers for a moment before they slipped away and he was taken away from me.

[My beloved father left this world in August 2007.]

A deeper layer in The Incredibles

There's this scene in the Incredibles. The entire family is being held captive by Syndrome's force field, and he's explaining his plan.

"...then I'll sell my inventions, so that everyone can be super! And when everyone's super...heh, heh, heh...no one will be."

Oh, Syndrome you evil man! How could you? Destroy the supers??

OK, here's my question. What's so bad about Syndrome's proposition? I ask, because I'm one of those that Syndrome is talking about. I would be able to buy his stuff and be super. Why not let everyone be super? What's wrong with that?

But admit it, when Syndrome suggested his plan, we all collectively gasped in horror, because we knew what he was saying. The celebration of mediocrity will become so pervasive that supers will be drowned in an ocean of wanna be's.

Do you see what's going on? Why do we react to the idea of everyone being super? Because. We want heroes. We need them. We want our heroes so badly that we will affirm near universal mediocrity so that a few can be great. Don't take away greatness, don't take away the ability to aspire, to be inspired.

We want heroes because we want a value system to show us what is high and noble and virtuous and honorable. We want there to be a lower level so that the higher can exist. We need lowness so we can recognize highness.

Do you see what this means? Take a super leap forward and recognize that this ultimately leads to the fact that we need evil in order to recognize good. We need, yes NEED, sin and darkness and pain. Without it we could never have known goodness and beauty and virtue.

Where did evil come from? I dont know, except that it was part of God's plan. There could be no other way.