Black Sow

Friday morning 11.30.12

Chris and I are at home in our very large house. The building’s plan is open and there is an atmosphere of muted, golden twilight because the floor and the furniture are made of oak.

We have been busy, maybe with holiday events, and I have come down with pneumonia. Chris has invited one more guest, Scott, his boyhood friend from Chicago. Scott has never seen the house. So I understand why he has been asked to come but I feel so unwell I plead with Chris to delay the visit. It’s too late, however; Scott is on his way.

I have to call in sick to my old high school. Of course I can’t remember the phone number; I graduated in 1975. I open my clamshell cell to dial 411. The keys are full of red clay and I have to brush off the mud to see the digits.

After the call I stand at the kitchen counter and hear clattering noises in the basement. I go downstairs to investigate. The basement is as generous as the upper level, uncluttered but clearly used for storage, not for living space.

I find an old gift box under the staircase that seems to be the source of the disturbance. It’s a long, narrow box, almost the shape of a florist’s box for long-stemmed roses. The box top and bottom are still encased in giftwrap, many seasons old. I hold the box in my hands and I see the shape of a face pressed into the lid, “looking” at me. Frightening. I lift the cover; there is nothing but tissue paper inside.

I tell the spirit inside the box that I am going to tear the tissue into the tiniest bits, dissolve them in water and wash them into the ocean. But I hear Scott arriving, so I run up the stairs. Exorcism interrupted.

I greet Scott. The three of us catch up near the kitchen. I turn to my left to see a giant, black, velvety sow. The spirit in the box has transformed into a creature with luxurious, shimmering fur, like a domesticated rabbit or a sleek black cat. I am gripped by this vision. The sow stands quietly, patiently, peacefully: luminous with power.

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Day Notes:

Thanksgiving was at our house, a tradition that I love. Tiring, though.

My chronic childhood bronchitis and respiratory illnesses came up in conversation yesterday with the woman at Pathways who was helping me write my healthcare directive.

Lola chased a mouse all last night (clattering noises), bounding up on the bed occasionally, to no avail. Right now she is crouched on the floor to my left, facing the bed, waiting for the mouse to reappear. Silky black cat.

Last week when our regular Tai Chi instructor Eddie was in Australia, his Master Teacher Rob was our sub. Rob asked us to notice the chi “shimmering” through and around the body.

We worked in red clay at the workshop I just attended in Santa Fe.

Female pigs, bears, badgers and hedgehogs are called “sows.”

From the web: Sow is considered a very powerful being in the Otherworlds and a creature of death and rebirth, according to the ancient Celts/Druids. She’s associated with the Sacred Cauldron and bestows wisdom and inspiration.

My Welsh step-grandfather raised hogs: black, white, black with a white stripe at the shoulder, red.

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Evening Notes:

Chris and I saw Lola’s mouse! I screamed; we were both horrified. It’s the biggest deer mouse I have ever seen, the size of a chipmunk, with huge black bug-eyes. It’s a pig of a mouse, a mouse monster!

I know these animals can carry hantavirus (the lungs fill with fluid). I head to Home Depot for a live trap. The one I buy, “Havahart” Live Animal Cage, is shaped like the box in my dream. I bait the trap and open the front door of our house wide to the outside. Mouse Queen ends up running through the door on her own, escaping cat and cage.