I nodded.
I think you've met Beach already. In case you haven't had the pleasure, she's my therapist.
"You described the dream as mysterious and unpleasant."
"It's full of symbolism and a bit dark," I said, "but not troubling."
"No?" she said.
"Not really," I said. "My dreams aren't any more troubling than reality. Just this morning, as I fed the birds and squirrels frequenting my backyard, Mimi the mockingbird gave me the stink eye the whole time."
"And you think she was upset with you for something?"
"Of course she was. I haven't spoken to her in weeks, and she flew all the way from Brunswick Forest--no small feat--to let me know she disapproves of my reclusancy."
She picked up her tablet and began typing, and I knew she was asking Gemini if 'reclusancy' is a real word, or a symptom of one of my many neurodiversions. (It's not a real word; I checked.)
There was a brief moment of quiet as we both considered the darker tone of my words.
Then I broke the silence, because that's what I do to ward off the boredom that can creep in from silence or even serious conversation.
"It seems you think I should be concerned about the dream," I said, more to change the subject than anything. I realized I needed to address this sense of living a meandering, meaningless existence, and I didn't want someone else's thoughts to confuse the issue.
"I recently had a dream about a squirrel in a UNC baseball cap fighting over a peanut with a dove wearing an NC State t-shirt. The squirrel was winning. Now that was a dark, troubling dream."
"But you are Buddhist, right?"
"So?" I said. "What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, I remember hearing somewhere that The Buddha advocated never causing harm to another human being, nor allowing someone to be harmed through inaction."
"And your point is?" I said.
"Well, in your dream, you thought about looking for a half brick to throw at your tormentor, and I just assumed that, as a Buddhist, you'd react differently."
"Isaac Asimov wrote that about not harming anyone," I said. "It comes from his book, I, Robot. What you just described is the First Law of Robotics."
She blinked; not something I often see from her. "Still, it's a very Buddhist-like concept, right?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess," I said.
"So, shouldn't you follow that law?" she said.
"Well," I said, "there are no laws in Buddhism."
"Are you sure?" she said. "You know, sometimes I think you make up the Buddhist stuff as you go along."
I shrugged in a manner that clearly implied, Works for me. She sighed deeply and gave me a look that clearly implied she'd like to slap me silly.
"Well, you may not have directly harmed him in your dream," she said, "but you supplied the brick."
"It was half a brick," I said. "Half bricks are the preferred blunt instruments for beating someone's brains out."
"What I'm saying is that Buddhists always strive to do no harm. At least that's my understanding."
I didn't immediately respond because the drum loop from ELO's Don't Bring Me Down had taken up residence in my frontal lobe, and Jeff Lynne's falsetto was drowning out her concerns about my karma.
"Well?" she said," and I had the sense she deserved a thoughtful response at least vaguely on topic.
"Buddhist monks invented Kung Fu," I said. She raised a couple of eyebrows. "You know," I added, "for self-defense." Then, even though I knew it would have been better left unsaid, I went on, "Much like my idea of using the half brick."
It wasn't one of my best comebacks, but I didn’t have time to craft something quotable. Besides, I need to focus on getting my life back on track. The new year is almost here, and I don't want to go into 2026 with this confused, topsy-turvy mindset. As my mom used to say, “As the first day of the new year goes, so goes the rest of the year.”
That's not exactly the way she said it, but the meaning's the same.
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