(Wednesday, November 24, 2021) waning gibbous moon Cancer, three of cups tarot
I dream of traveling, related to my job. My route follows a calm, winding river in Europe, but I am “on the road,” not in a boat. It’s like visiting an outdoor art gallery. There are giant wooden sculptures, particularly on the river bends. I love to see them, I am inspired by their beauty and complexity, sometimes with a bit of a positive shock. Masterpieces. Between the bends stand elaborately-carved, historical wooden houses that climb the forested bluffs.
Later, on a village street, I meet my Amsterdam coworker Kleopatra. We are happy to see each other in person, which is rare. In waking life, she gave birth to her first child this summer, a son. In the dream she has a pouch on her tummy. I ask, “How is your baby?” She pulls out a tiny newborn girl and hands her to me. I am pleased to be offered such an amazing gift. I slowly support baby’s head and body with both of my hands, then pull her close. A male coworker is standing behind my right shoulder, peering delightedly at baby girl. I hand him the little infant so he can experience the pleasure of gently embracing her, sensing her distinctive energy.
In a third element of the dream, I am viewing charming, hand-painted signs of the names of small European towns. A voice from the white ether, the upper level, tells me the story of the woman artist who created them all. The lettering style is distinctive to her work, made during the era of Impressionism. Her colors are tropical. The signs are often standing below generous, mature trees. I see her creations from very far away, but am able to view them close-up within my mind’s eye. The pleasant artist greets me from the other side, beyond the veil.
Day notes:
I’ve been asking for dreams about my creative “mission” and this seems to be one of them. Sculpture. Words. My current design job has been inspired by typography for decades. I’m good at it, but I don’t design fonts. I am trying to figure out if my love for writing and sculpture will be related as I find more time in retirement.
This also seems to have past life elements. Perhaps. Or a story of some of my European ancestry.
Baby girl must be Oona. Hillary and Kleopatra have the same job titles.
As a child I was captivated by a talented sign painter in the Winona and Wabasha area. Back then all signs were painted by hand, and this painter was particularly gifted with lettering and color. His signs were everywhere. I later found out that he taught at Winona State. He bought a two-story house in Minneiska, overlooking the river, and painted a huge mural of himself at his drawing table, surrounded by elves. Beautiful and charming. That is my memory, anyway. I can’t find anything about him online.