Our ship's captain is an Inuit. So of course he knows how to predict when glaciers will advance and recede, by watching the crabs and turtles.

I lure him to set a course south, by flattering him about his knowledge of climate change. It's honest praise though--we need experts like him in our organization.

Oh--I'm in a native American religious movement. We're anti-Christian and pan-tribal, in fact we have a lot of non-Native pagans now. We'll take anyone who'll oppose that Judeo-Christian-secular monolith.

We march up the street in a procession--our first big show of strength. We're doing well--we've scared the Pope already. He shows up, with some of his Swiss Guards, and orders them to attack our march! They jab two of their halberds into the captain. He pulls them out himself, and goes limping on, in pain. We use spears and Tarot staves and wands, to protect us. Some people seem to still respect the Pope, but quite a few are ready to fight, now that he's used violence.

We reach our goal: a semi-holy man. But the Pope's guards stab him with spears too!

So he decides to renounce the world, and becomes a Zen monk. Which is fine, except that he forces his shy son to become one too. And the kid doesn't want to.

I try to sneak him out of the mountaintop monastery, but the monks catch on, and chase us. A wild chase down the mountain... as I free the Prisoner of Zen!

IN THE MORNING

• I wake with a song in my head, Judas's song from "Jesus Christ, Superstar". But the words have mutated:

  "I have been scattered with innocent blood."

  Not spattered, scattered. I had a recent Tarot reading that said I stay mentally scattered to prevent an angry hyper-rational side from taking over... being scattered keeps my brain from skewering me with merciless logic.
• Hermitage = I HAVE been hiding out like a hermit.
• Inuit's tutoring/tuition = "Intuition"?!
• Mystics lured from the wilderness get hurt: this is my third dream this week with this theme! I really do need my privacy, don't I?
• Spears hit captain = Christ figure? As a kid, every time I let bullies hit me and refused to hit back, I saw myself as a suffering for pacifism (more Gandhi than Christ though). I became a dream-working hermit mostly cuz it looked better than the career I was groomed for by my radical parents: leftist martyr!
• The Prisoner of Zenda is an old swashbuckling novel.
• The Prisoner of Zen is... hoping not to be.

Personal issues aside, note the social issues in this dream. This is 1980, remember? Yet it's about global warming and violent theocrats. One reason I had so much trouble escaping radical guilt was that I foresaw very real evils.

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