Odin
I’m in a small, bright room like a lounge or cafeteria. There are chairs and tables, and people are sitting and talking. Although they look entirely ordinary, I intuit that these are spiritually advanced beings, and I am awake enough to seize the opportunity to ask the question that has dogged me recently. I walk over to one man and say, “I know I’ve fallen down a lot and ignored guidance, and I have a problem finding the discipline and focus to do the things I know will bring joy, and you are probably all tired of hearing about this, but is there anything more you can add that will help me now?” Pointing out a man at another table, he says, “You should go ask that guy.” The man he has indicated is talking with some others, and as I approach and excuse myself, he looks up and I see that his right eye is missing. There is only an empty socket, and I can see all the way into it. He is a small, slender and light hearted old man, with a very short haircut and plain garb. He tells me he is very happy to be here. As I wake up, I reflect that this must be the norse god Odin, who according to the story, gave his right eye for wisdom. He is plainly telling me it was worth it. I further reflect that the right eye is connected to the left side of the brain, the logical/analytic. It is the eye that looks outward, while the left eye is connected to the right side of the brain, the spatial/relational/creative, which looks within. To sacrifice one’s right eye in this context would mean to stop looking outside one’s self for answers. The implied question is, “What will I give for wisdom?”