Heroes represent proof of opportunities that can be seized and forged through deeds into stories that have meaning. They inspire us to want better from ourselves. Perhaps they remind us that we could try harder, or be more giving, or that our perspective is too narrow for the people we would like to become– but their existence itself is evidence for our own ability to achieve our goals, whatever they are, provided we push ourselves when given opportunity.

This is how I think of these things; that if someone in decent health with no particular talent toward something can do it through determination and opportunity, it is something I also could achieve through similar means. If another person is able to keep their temper, or to give of their time to a cause, if these are things I truly want, all other things being relatively equal, I can do these things, too, and I hold no excuses for not doing them, but that I value something else more– which is not necessarily bad.

I want to thank you for making me not feel so alone. I feel a stubborn, ceaseless desire to do and make and be more, for life and humanity, for a creative aesthetic. It’s never one cause, or for one person. It’s especially hard for me to find something that appeals to me as a nonreligious person. I struggle to find purpose in my life, and can’t fathom that it could be something– related to money, or pleasing other people. None of these seem as important as doing good, or creating something beautiful and functional.

Hearing someone address the things that I think are important and undervalued is a kind of comfort I need right now, and I expect there are others who need to hear it, too. It’s just critical sometimes that, unbidden, we witness someone else expressing and echoing our own thoughts and sentiments, not necessarily to validate them, but to prove that they are not so unique so as to make us we are alone in what we feel.

Towards the top, I could see a structure of some sort, maybe a monument. Standing in front of the ‘monument’ was a larger than life size angel. Brilliant white, with wings outspread. There were other vague figures standing next to the angel. All of their backs were turned to me as I continued climbing towards them. I could not see what they were facing, just their backs.

About halfway between me and the monument was a man stopped, his back to me. He was a black man dressed in a white suit, kind of Colonel Sanders type suit. He turned around smiling, and waved me to come closer. I had stopped climbing, and was lingering back, not knowing what was going on. He smiled and said “Come closer.” But I lingered back.

The people climbing, came together toward the top and started to sing together as a choral. I tried to join in the singing. In the next instant I was on the opposite side of the hill, still looking up. In front of me was a flag pole with I believe the American flag being raised as we sang.

As the flag reached the top, I instantly ‘knew’ that everything I had known in my entire life had been an illusion. I instantly realized that my child hood life had all been set up for me so that I could have a wonderful experience. I ‘knew’ that the innocence of the 50’s and 60’s, the joy and pride of being an ‘American’, the patriotism of our strong history, our winning battles, our space flights, everything was an illusion for my benefit. All my childhood, the love of sports, school, my heroes Mickey Mantle and Johnny Unitas, every thing had been a fabrication. Even the United States of America itself had been a fabricated illusion just for my benefit.

I was aware of ‘others’ with me. We shared thought, instantly. I don’t remember how they looked. I had no further revelation of my life beyond childhood, before I was suddenly back in my bed, awake. I woke up knowing that everything in this life I am living is the real dream. That I am like an actor in a movie, who has no knowledge that he is an actor. That is the closet I can come to explaining what I felt.

I told my wife this crazy dream, she thinks I’m nuts. Maybe so, but let me tell you, it seemed as real as anything I have ever known. Which if I’m right, isn’t the least bit real. I do not do drugs, and I do not drink alcohol. I have never suffered a mental illness, that I am aware of. I am not suffering from stress, or depression.

I have tried to keep this strong ‘knowledge’, but it is fading daily. I searched online to see if others may have had similar experiences, and found this site. Haven’t discussed this with others, besides my wife. Kind of hard to describe anyway. Now I have written this brief description on your blog, which if I am right, doesn’t really exist either.