A Buddhist Dream

I dreamed this the night before my trip to Ireland on July 26, 2005.

A photo I took at Sera Monastery, Tibet, in March 2008

Before waking to my alarm, I was having a dream in which I was at a Tibetan Buddhist temple in North America — at least I’m pretty sure it was this continent. The room was painted burgundy and was large, and there was a stage-like section at the front of the room where lamas wore brilliantly colored brocade robes. I sat in the front row center, about six feet back from the lamas, at a long, dark wood table with a somewhat rough surface, full of grooves and texture. With me sat several white Westerners in their twenties.

Meanwhile, the lamas were presenting a ritual, or perhaps a lecture, and two of them (there were four total) spoke entirely in Tibetan. I had no idea what they were saying. I sat admiring the décor and the lamas’ robes.

When they were finished, I didn’t remember whether they moved away, but the young people I sat with began a conversation — now I can’t remember what they talked about. I should have written it down when I woke, but I was in a hurry to go. While they spoke, I noticed a small, rectangular, dark brown tray sitting on the table in front of me, about a foot away from the edge in front of me. The youngsters became interested in it, and I realized what the contents were.