(Wednesday, December 16, 2015) moon: waxing crescent Aquarius / tarot: Mother of Blades, the North Wind
I have moved into a new house. I am the second owner. It was built a few years earlier by an older couple with several small grandchildren. Lola is with me as I explore the nooks and crannies.
We walk down the stairs into the unfinished basement. The walls are poured concrete and very tall. The whole house is well constructed: the original owners spared no expense.
There is a short wall of wooden studs in the middle of the room. Hockey skates and other sporting goods hang from nails. A stack of adult and children’s bicycles lean against the wall.
I notice a floor to ceiling opening in a remote area of the basement. A rough wire gate spans the opening, attached to the cement wall with a rusty, bent iron hook that does not stay fastened. A small, muddy animal pen is on the other side of the wire gate, enclosed by a second, sturdier wire farm fence that is also gated. A black sow sleeps inside the pen, deeply mired in the mud. More black sows, her sisters, root on the hillside outside of her pen.
A young, tall, handsome woman stands near the first gate, inside the basement, meeting my gaze. She has straight, shoulder-length brown locks, an oval face and strong facial bones. She is fit, energetic, silent.
I hear visitors arriving so I head upstairs to the kitchen. I open the white wooden door and look outside. The view is that of my grandmother’s farm, before the land was put under the plow. Wild, endless prairie.
I am hosting a dream group (all women) which is being led by a stern elderly woman with curly grey hair. Her technique is to gather physical items and place them in the center of the table. Jung’s archetypes. I have rolled my fingers against my furrowed brow, peeling away layers of skin and adding it to bits of my shed black hair. For some reason, the wooly cylinders of skin and hair are bright green.
The dream boss won’t accept any items with as much emotional content (sorrow) as my skin and hair. Too much like voodoo or shamanism for her taste. Everything on the table looks like a small charm or game piece from Monopoly and is made of crystal or silver.
I relent and head downstairs to grab a bicycle. The handsome young woman is still in the basement, which perplexes me. She sends a telepathic message: she has lived on this land long before the building of the house. She is an elemental, shapeshifting from fairy to sow and back again. Lola is very happy on this level.
As I rise up the stairs the bicycle transforms into a small silver charm, and I add it to the pile of dream archetypes on the table.
Day notes:
Last night I watched a video of Susanne Van Dooren (IASD) interviewing Ann Baring. Ann’s book “The Dream of the Cosmos” is one of the deepest, best books I have read in years, but this is the second video interview of Ann I have seen and she comes across as very cerebral. Not warm. Like the guide in this dream.
Yesterday Bonnie and Paul’s Christmas card arrived in the mail. Bonnie wrote that Paul was putting up drywall in the basement.
Today I went to an area of Oheyawahi that I did not know existed. It is the precise area of the ancient sacred site. One can see the confluence of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers, both cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, and Fort Snelling. There are two large medicine wheels made of colored gravel. There is a circle of stones with the names of the original Minnesota tribes carved onto each one. The interpretive sign is written in both Dakota and English.
As I finished writing this dream, Lola began to growl and ran downstairs. I can hear chimes chattering right outside my window but I don’t know why. I don’t have any wind chimes in my yard. My neighbor does but they are not at all close by. Perhaps the wind is carrying the sound.
A dream of the feminine! No males in this dream at all!
A sculpture of a black sow that I made a couple of years ago sits in my basement clay studio.