(Wednesday, May 16, 2018) waxing gibbous moon Gemini / tarot Dreamer
I stand in the grassy front yard of a comfortable retreat center. The atmosphere is muted: twilight, peaceful. I find, or am given, a single hand-rolled cigarette. Everyone who enters the very large wooden house smokes one stick of tobacco. I fire mine up and step through the front door.
The spacious rooms are occupied by dozens of loving, female, angelic beings. It feels like the highest moments at the Glastonbury Tara-Beltane ceremony, and far beyond! The spiritual, aromatic essence of blossoming pink flowers fills the air and every fiber of my being. I am saturated by beautiful, soulful pink. Pink, pink, pink!
I know it is important to fully breathe in my tobacco smoke but I also do not wish to violate the breath of those who have finished their cigarettes. It is vital for us all to inhale exactly one dose of our own smudge. I hold the flame close to my side and walk in a focused way through the main floor. I exit the back door of the house, entering a circular, stone-filled courtyard where a roughly-carved bird bath holds the remains of a leafy, half-smoked cigar. I sense the presence of the ancient male gnome who left the unfinished tobacco. But he is not visible to my physical eye.
Day notes:
Yesterday I came home from work and said to Chris: “It’s the pink time of year!” Our two magenta crabapples have burst into flower. The neighborhood is bathed in trees in full bloom.
This dream has a cloud-like, otherworldly feeling. Peace pipe. Sacred tobacco. In the pink.
Message on my morning tea bag: the voice of your soul is breath.
Nice dream. I wonder about worrying about contaminating others’ lungs as they would have smoked their cigarettes already. Nothing is coming to me, except that that statement stands out to me.