I had a dream recently where I went down a rabbit hole and found a people true to themselves.
I wrote down the dream, and one day may share it here. In the interim, here’s one passage that particularly intrigued me:
The community itself was a conscious exercise in trueness. When someone stole, for example, no one got upset, least of all the person who had been stolen from. When the thief had what he needed, the experience of being a thief, he would return whatever had been stolen because he no longer needed it. And no one was surprised, least of all the thief.
This passage came to mind tonight when Kathy and I watched the movie Lars and the Real Girl. (Thanks to Austen for the recommendation. I just added to my list of favorite movies.)
The premise of the story is that Lars, an intensely shy man in his 30s, finally finds his first girlfriend. And she’s a sex doll.
Thing is, while everyone around him is (initially) mortified, and we in the audience are chuckling uncontrollably, Lars is perfectly serious. This is his girlfriend and you quickly get the sense he’s not, um, fooling around.
Like the community in my dream, Lars’s family and friends let him have his illusion. They accept his girlfriend as one of their own. She attends church, she visits the doctor/psychologist with Lars, and all the girls help get her a better haircut.
The movie is dreamy and surreal — but plenty profound, in its own way.
It left me with the thought: What would it be like if we all really did let people have their illusions?
What would happen if, instead of trying to persuade someone to our perspective — religiously, politically, personally, or otherwise — we simply supported them in doing and believing … whatever they seem to need right now.
Would the Scientologists and Moonies just grow increasingly irrational? Or might they come live with greater integrity (whatever that means for them) in their own time?
What happens when we no longer needed our illusions? What if the felt need to change another person is an illusion itself?