(Saturday, April 6, 2019) waxing crescent moon Taurus, tarot Hanged Man
I dream that Chris and I have moved into a different house. It is much more expensive and expansive than our 1960 ranch-style house in Plymouth. The neighborhood is a modernized village, built along hillsides, haphazardly structured: the buildings twist and turn. No grid. There is very little space between lots and houses. It feels like Tangletown, where Cullan and Hillary live.
In the beginning of the dream, I walk with a female friend down an old, grassy dirt road. The atmosphere is cosmic grey. We are heading together to the new house.
We arrive. The house is several stories tall. It’s busy. People enter and are involved in events on multiple floors. Chris participates in some of these events, but I cannot, because my heart is broken. I miss the wide range of animal lives that joined us at our Plymouth acre. The animals inspired me and touched my heart deeply, birds and mammals of a wide variety. I remember the contract I created with Jill Purce in Glastonbury: “love for the animals.”
I stand in the kitchen with my friend, focusing on the physical environment. The wallpaper, carpet and furniture disappoint me. They are dated and lack design sophistication. The rooms are too full of furniture, artwork, knick-knacks and utilitarian objects. Packed. The carpet is a dreadful floral pattern. I dislike the wallpaper, too, and start to peel it off the wall behind the sink. This house needs my renewal skills.
Day notes:
We have results from Chris’ MRI. His Hepatitis C has grown, and he is now diagnosed with early-stage cirrhosis of the liver. His weight is down to 160 pounds. His spine has weakened into scoliosis and he has declined from 6 feet in height to less than 5 feet ten inches. We are full of grief. My wages are almost fully required to pay our medical expenses, but we must move forward with the prescription for Hep-C as soon as possible or he will die of cirrhosis.
I wonder if the multi-story house is a hospital. Or a different dimensional reality. Chris is socially comfortable; I am overwhelmed with sorrow.
Memorial Day 2019: The multi-story house seemed to match Fairview Southdale Hospital Day Surgery, where I had my eye operation in April. Surprisingly outdated decor and furniture.