(Tuesday, March 27, 2018) moon waxing gibbous Leo / tarot Tower reversed
This whole dream roils like the ocean. Throughout I feel connected to the tide and the rhythmic power of the sea. It is a lucid dream by the nature of its stark physical awareness. I feel immersed in an ancient, earth-like realm that is a sister to this dimension. Or a twin.
Grey is the color of the sky, the sea, the rocky cliffs. But the mood is not grey. I am a passenger in a car being driven by Peter R. He is wildly adventurous and guns the engine, flying the vehicle over a tall stone shore into a deep bay.
Somehow we are freed from the plunging car before it begins to sink. Another woman, Sara or Bonnie, joins us as we float on the strong, dark, fizzing waves. I am surprised at the soothing, warm temperature of the water. Swimming is a joyous experience, even though the harbor is hundreds of feet in depth. I am not afraid.
The dream shifts. Peter and I are at a large cottage or inn, preparing for a journey on a boat. I need his help with this process, and he is very supportive. At one point my focus drifts and I find myself standing in the story above the bedroom where we have been packing our supplies. An unconscious man lies on the wooden floor, facing away from me. Is he a corpse? He has a cocoon-like aura. He exists in another dimension, and I have to move through a soft, web-filled portal to return to the lower level. I am pleased at how easy this is for me. Relieved.
We travel to the beach and load Peter’s boat with our gear. It’s a small powerboat, a Boston Whaler. He gives me a complex, expensive camera to use to take photos while he captains the little aluminum ship. It is important to him that I capture ocean images on our journey. It is my mission and my gift. I don’t enjoy cameras, but I respect his request. It has a metaphysical component. What?
The sea is active. We ride the large grey waves. It feels like waking life. Real, yet perceptively metaphorical at the same time. The sky is overcast, mirroring the formation of the ocean current. We love being gently tossed by the Creative Unconscious, by the Maternal Divine. La Mer.
I sit behind Peter, beginning to fiddle with the camera. There are a series of tiny dials that need to be rolled into a specific position, a specific measurement. They look almost like little black plastic vertebrae. Spine. I struggle because I can’t remember the exact settings, but Peter is not worried. He believes in my engineering skills.
Day notes:
I have been listening to Peter Gabriel’s “So” album when driving home from work. Nearly every song mentions dreaming. “Mercy Street” is dedicated to Anne Sexton, my favorite poet in my twenties. I stumbled on his award-winning YouTube video “Sledgehammer” on a day that I felt quite depressed. The beauty and humor of the Nick Park animations (creator of Wallace & Gromit) filled me with ecstacy and energy. Then Chris dug up the CD for me. I wore out my copy years ago.