I HAVE A DREAM – Rob Brezsny
I have a dream that in the New Earth, there will be a new Bill of Rights.
The first amendment will be, “Your daily wage is directly tied to the
beauty and truth and love you provide.”
I have a dream that in the New Earth, childbirth will be broadcast on prime
time TV every single night.
I have a dream that the New Earth will have rapturists, and they’ll vastly
outnumber the terrorists. The rapturists will be performance artists with a
conscience . . . charismatic improvisers who love to spring fun surprises.
They’ll commit unexpected interventions and unscheduled spectacles that
delight hordes of strangers.
I have a dream that in the New Earth, we will add an eleventh
commandment to the standard ten: Thou shalt not bore God.
I have a dream of a week-long annual holiday called the Bacchanalia. Work
and business will be suspended so that all adults can explore their ripe
mojo with frothy erotic experiments. Tenderly orgiastic marathons will
rage unabated. Reverential ecstasy and grateful generosity will rule.
I have a dream that when anchormen report tragedies on their nightly TV
shows, they’ll break down and cry and let their emotions show. No more
In the New Earth, you’ll be a fascinating enigma worthy of a best-selling
unauthorized biography and I’ll be an inscrutable genius whose every
move is packed with symbolic meaning — and vice versa. That will be the
law in the New Earth — far different from the Old Earth, where
schadenfreude is epidemic and your distinctive flair is supposed to make
me feel worshipful or diminished.
I have a dream that in the New Earth, the word “a**hole” will be a term of
endearment rather than abuse. Plutocracy will be a felony. April Fool’s Day
will come once a month. There’ll be scientific horoscopes and mystical
logic. Every one of us will have at least one imaginary friend. Compassion
will be an aphrodisiac.
In the New Earth, we’ll launch an affirmative action program that
ultimately makes most of us celebrities. Buddhist real estate developers
will build a chain of sacred shopping centers in the heartland. The CEOs of
the Fortune 500 companies will be required by law to enjoy once-a-week
sessions with Jungian psychotherapists. Pioneers in artificial intelligence
research will develop computers that can talk to God.
In the New Earth, same-sex marriages will be fully sanctioned, of course.
But why stop there? We’ll also legalize wedding bonds among
threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, and large groups of people who are in
love with each other. I have a dream that we will expand the meaning of
love beyond anything our ancestors imagined.
In the New Earth, our children will study singing and dancing and
meditation and dream work with as much diligence as they now devote to
math and science. They’ll learn to see with their own eyes and think with
their own minds and feel with their own hearts, studying those subjects
as intently as they do spelling and grammar and social studies. Beginning
in seventh grade, they’ll get lessons in the art of creating successful
intimate relationships. And we’ll teach them why it’s only fair that for the
next 3,000 years we use “her” for the generic singular pronoun instead of
I have a dream that we will take everything we need and give everything
we have. We’ll be both selfish altruists and generous braggarts, libertarian
socialists and capitalist humanitarians. That’ll be the law in the New Earth
— different from the Old Earth, where you can blindly serve your own
interests or devote yourself to the needs of others, but not both.
I have a dream that in the New Earth, Oprah Winfrey will buy up all the
Pizza Huts on the planet and convert them into a global network of
menstrual huts, where for a few days each month, every one of us, men
and women alike, can resign from the crazy-making 9-5 — drop out and
slow down, break trance and dive down into eternal time.
We will sleep nine hours every night as we practice our lucid dreams . . .
sing love songs from the future while soaking in steamy herb baths . . .
feast on chocolate as we converse with the little voices in our heads . . .
research the distinctions between stupid, boring pain and smart,
fascinating pain until we finally get it right . . . wear magic underwear
made from eagle feathers, spider webs, and 100-year-old moss . . . and
conjure up bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more
In the New Earth, you’ll kick your own ass and I’ll wash my own brain. I’ll
be my own parent and you’ll be your own wife. And vice versa. That’ll be
normal in the New Earth — different from the Old Earth, where everyone
except me is to blame for my ignorance and you call on everyone except
yourself to give you what you need.
I’ll push my own buttons and right my own wrongs. You’ll wake yourself
up and sing your own songs.
I’m the president now . . . and so are you. I am the Supreme Commander
of the United Snakes of the Blooming HaHa . . . and so are you. And what
we proclaim is that in the New Earth, we will love our neighbors as
ourselves, even if our neighbors are jerks. We will never divide the world
into us against them. We will search for the divine spark even in the
people we most despise, and we will never dehumanize anyone, even
those who dehumanize us.
I have a dream that sooner or later every one of us will become a
well_rounded, highly skilled, incredibly rich master of rowdy bliss — with
lots of leisure time and an orgiastic feminist conscience.