It was cold last night, and when my car was hard to start, I remembered my mechanic’s warning. The 1981 Mercedes diesel motor needed a valve adjustment, if it were going to start in the cold temperatures. So I called my artist friend out in Canyon Country to see if he wanted to have lunch before I dropped off my car. My timing was excellent. Neville had just awakened at noon after spending the night with a friend. I took the tired artist to brunch and then to coffee at Starbucks. We had a great time talking about the paintings he had done and my newly written blogs. By the time we finished catching up, he was ready to go back to work and I could drop off my car.
Walking to catch the bus in Santa Clarita is exhausting. The bus stops are very far apart; I guess because the area is made for driving cars. I had to walk a quarter of a mile from my mechanic’s shop, which is across the Sierra Highway from the College of the Canyons east campus, to the closest bus stop. As I sat there wondering how long I was going to have to wait, a young man rode up behind me on his bicycle. “Does your arrival mean we don’t have long to wait?” I asked him. There were just the two of us at the stop. He showed me how to access the information by texting to the bus information number. Instantaneously it replied ETA: 2, which he said meant 2 minutes. In that short amount of time, I asked him if he were a college student and what his interests were. I got lots of great information and a big surprise, he had studied philosophy at Humboldt State University. He was interested in my son John’s first love, marine biology. As we talked the bus arrived and I gave him my card.
After putting his bicycle on the bus, my new friend sat across the aisle from me and we continued our conversation. We had so many common interests that I told him more and more about Ojai, the Theosophical Institute, Charles Leadbeater, reincarnation, ethics, Native American heritage hiding in our genes, and eventually invited him to have coffee with me tomorrow. “I was going to say that”, he said. “Perhaps we could meet at Starbucks or Athena’s”, I suggested. He had never been to the Greek Restaurant on Soledad Canyon Road, so I told him about their great gyros and souvlakia sandwiches, “almost as cheap as McDonald’s and much better” I said. As we reached the Terminal building, I got on my next bus home and he said he would call or text me tomorrow. He had class in the morning, but was free in the afternoon.
When I got home I began to write about my experiences in my journal. An entry yesterday morning caught my eye. There I had written down a dream.
I’m talking to a student about matriculating at our High School, when a guy in an orange and purple striped shirt rides up behind me. He doesn’t say anything, so I stop talking to the new student and turn around. He is an older student, blond and attractive. He says, “Could we talk tomorrow?” “What? Do you want to come to school on Saturday?” I ask. He’s embarrassed, but I tell him, “See me later and I’ll give you my card. You can call me to talk tomorrow or we can discuss a place to meet.” “OK” he says, and I turn around to continue my conversation with the new student. We are discussing how people act out their emotional problems in school and I was wondering how the student might feel about that happening.
That’s when the synchronicity struck me. This guy had ridden up behind me at the bus stop. He resembled the man in the dream and his enthusiastic, friendly nature was exactly the same as the dream guy. When images come up behind the dreamer, it usually means there is something welling up from the unconscious which is going to manifest. That part of me which has been teaching young people for fifty years has been off line lately. I have been focusing on one or two people at a time, very intimate discussions, like the one I had had earlier in the day.
What rose up in my awareness was an old, long standing dream, that at some time in my life I could just show up in the market place like Socrates and talk philosophy with anyone who wanted to talk with me. Perhaps Athena’s Restaurant is as close to the marketplace of Athens as one can get in Santa Clarita, California. Hermes must be guiding us there. His Mercurial color in Alchemy is orange. He brings our dreams and this young college student was wearing the royal purple striped with orange. The children of Hermes is the original name of this site; Hermiades is a Greek word. Perhaps the cyclist is one of Hermes’ sons, an old student who wants to continue the relationship started in a previous lifetime perhaps? The dream setting suggests an on-going special school for young people, which can be extended by invitation. That sounds exactly what Athena would do, use Hermes to deliver an invitation via the dream world. Is the Goddess of Wisdom and Strategy starting a new school at Athena’s restaurant? If so I definitely want to be on the staff.