The Artist + The Addict
The other night I had a dream.
In this dream, I saw two parts of myself. They were represented as two different people, though they looked completely identical. In fact they looked like identical twins – brothers. And of course, they both looked exactly like me.
One of them was an addict.
The other – an artist.
In the dream, they had been at odds with each other for a very long time. It was similar to two brothers having a major blow out, and then not speaking for years. There was a definite schism between these “brothers”. Even though they looked like the exact same person, they both seemed to be focused on each other’s differences, and had a very difficult time accepting each other.
As I witnessed them, it appeared that something had re-surfaced between them, and they had arranged a meeting to try to reconcile their differences. They both sat on opposite ends of a long table, as if in some kind of formal meeting room. I found the formality bizarre, given that they felt like siblings.
As they sat across from each other, I could feel years of tension and pent up rage between them. They both just stared at one another directly in the eyes. They sat in silence for some time, as they steeped quietly in the gripping tension of betrayal. The feelings of shame and heartbreak were unspeakable. They just sat there staring at each other, dripping with rejection.
Eventually, something shifted in the tension between them, and I felt a softening. My attention was drawn to the eyes of the artist, and I saw him begin to well up with tears. I could feel that the tension was too heavy for him. The burden of this grudge was too much to carry. I felt him collapse inside. It was as if the knees of his heart had buckled, and a wall came crashing down. The artist was too sensitive. He could feel too much. The tenderness of his heart could no longer hold the weight of this long standing grudge.
The addict, on the other hand, was cold. He was numb. He was frozen in his feelings of rejection towards the artist. He seemed immovable from his position of deep contempt.
As I watched the energy between them, the silent tension finally broke, and the artist began to speak.
With tears in his eyes, and a tenderness in his heart, he said to the addict: “I need you to redeem me.”
As I heard this, I was completely taken aback. I was shocked. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I thought to myself. “Like, shouldn’t the artist be the one to redeem the addict? Why is the artist the one asking for redemption?”
The artist continued to speak:
“I need you for my redemption. I cannot hold the burden of this rejection between us any longer.
I cannot be who I am, without you.
I love you and accept you completely.
You can hold onto your guilt.
You can hold onto your shame.
You can hold onto your betrayal.
You can hold onto your hatred of me as long as you wish.
But I will love you, forever.
And whenever you are ready to reconcile our differences, please know that I am here. And that I will welcome you home.
I am seeking redemption, and I cannot be redeemed without you.”
The addict was totally taken off guard by the artist’s words. They had been at odds with each other for such a long time, the addict had just assumed that things between them would never change. He thought that the schism between them would last forever, and he had gotten somewhat comfortable in his own personal hell. He had built an identity around feeling rejected by the artist.
Now, his whole sense of self was called into question. A door to liberation had been opened for the addict. But the shock of it caught him off guard, and he was frozen in his response.
His eyes were wide open. They looked hollow, almost like two glass marbles. I could feel his tension growing. He was even more tense than he was before, and I could feel him on the precipice of breaking. And eventually something shattered within him, and he broke down and screamed in a juxtaposition between annihilation and liberation.
As his energy was freed, I could feel it merging with the artist.
As the schism between them was mended, I watched as the two polarizing energies began to fuse into one. Now, there were no longer two separate people sitting across from each other at a table.
There was one whole person.
And I was no longer a passive bystander watching this all unfold, for this person came up and looked me directly in the eyes.
And I saw my own face.
I looked deep into my wide blue eyes, as if I was standing on a beach and staring into the vastness of an ocean. And I could see every part of myself.
I saw my passion.
I saw my pain.
I saw the past experiences that had shut me down.
I saw the past experiences that had caused me to bleed. I saw the love that had blossomed with lovers and friends.
I saw the love that was lost, and the grief that had gone unexpressed. I saw those painful moments that had caused me to reject myself.
And then I saw my own love, which offered redemption.
As I stared into my own face, I felt an unconditional acceptance radiating from and for me. It was as if I was staring into the eyes of an angel from the realms beyond, because the love was so deep and unconditional – it was unrecognizable from anything that I had previously known.
And we just stared at each other, without a word being spoken. But, echoing in the corridors of silence that rested between our gaze, I could hear:
“I love you.
I love you.
I love you, forever.”
And then the dream was over.