The Bardo State: Somewhere Between Dreaming and Waking
Annie Bellettiere

           I once read somewhere that dreams occurring just prior to waking can be hazardous to your health.

           I frequently have trouble distinguishing between dreams and waking life.

           My dreams are a series of images that repeat themselves night after night.

           My waking life is a series of images that repeat themselves day after day.

           I used to have a recurring dream that I was a contestant on “The Price is Right.” However, the setting was always the humble home of a suburban black family. The game was always Plinko, but Bob Barker was always absent and there was never a live audience.

           I was curious to find out what this dream meant. To my dismay, “Game shows” wasn’t listed in the index of my “Decoding Your Dreams” book. I figured the next best information source was the Dalai Lama but it seems His Holiness is out of commission during the spring and summer months. My problem was soon solved when one evening while shopping for groceries, I ran smack into a Buddhist monk. Only it was my Jewish neighbor Hiram dressed in a Buddhist temple robe. Anyway, he looked straight into my eyes and said this: “To dream that you are on a game show, suggests that you need to change some aspect of your life around. You may be experiencing feelings of uncertainty of what the future may hold.”

           This is Bardo. In Tibetan the word means literally "intermediate state.” It can also be translated as "transitional state" or "in-between state.

           I’m very fond of the Bardo state.

           I always woke up starving.

           Sometimes I would wake up in a trance unsure of whether or not I was still dreaming.

           When that happened, I would go into the kitchen with the intention of preparing a feast for myself.

           Instead, I would pick up a small paring knife, slit my finger, and taste the blood to be sure I was really awake.

           Usually I woke up when the knife sliced my finger.

           I never felt hungry after that.

           Occasionally there was no blood. No salty metallic taste in my mouth. That’s when I knew that I was still dreaming.

           I would try to will myself back into consciousness, fighting tenaciously. Often I would hear rain on the windowpanes. I would imagine the rain drops were Plinko chips and helplessly surrender to another dream.

           The dreaming and waking states have many similarities. I think it can be said that humans spend a good portion of their lives in Bardo, trying to forget the past, fighting against the future.

           I love that Bardo state.

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