Author: Denise

(Saturday, August 27, 2022) new moon Virgo / tarot 4 of cups

I’m inside an expansive, perhaps infinite, community structure. The section that I inhabit is large, on an upper floor. The dream begins in the hallway as I enter my front door. Members are welcome to come and go between the home spaces. My sister Jo is with me. I notice a woman with dark, curly hair sitting near my door on a comfortable chair, typing into her laptop computer. She is focused on her writing and doesn’t interact with me. She looks like one of my guides. Raven Woman.

I enter the kitchen, shaped like an L. Each corridor of the L is long, full of cabinets, countertops, devices and furniture. The size of the room feels like a huge service kitchen that would exist in an old mansion.

I’m here to renovate. This task makes me insecure, as I am not a professional interior decorator. I want all of my family and visitors to feel pleased at the serenity of the room. I notice the frame of a window that is made from beautiful green/blue marble. Astonishing, a window made of stone! I show my sister Jo a piece of the marble and suggest to her that I paint the walls the calm, green/blue color. I talk about wallpaper and a few other ideas. She is fine with anything I decide to do, and reminds me that art is one of my skills.

I continue to inspect the L. I see an old gold refrigerator, from the eighties, and an old pink refrigerator, from the fifties. History is everywhere.

I notice a door to one of the children’s bedrooms. I turn right and walk inside the room. My small son is playing with several young Somali children and their parents. One of the fathers is a tall, thin man of particular grace and spiritual gifts. His presence is kind and illuminating for the children, and for me. I am relaxed. I look out a big bay window toward the ocean.

Day notes:

Yesterday I drove along the east side of Bde Maka Ska to head to Whole Foods. The car in front of me had a Black Lives Matter bumper sticker. As we both arrived at Lake Street, a tall, thin, homeless Black man stood on the corner with his handwritten cardboard sign. He seemed to be in his 50s. He generously waved to all of us. I had no cash, but the driver in front of me handed the man a bill. When I finished shopping and was driving back along Lake Street, an ambulance started to whine. The homeless man hurried out into the street and alerted the drivers, showing us where the ambulance was heading. I was amazed by his service and kindness.

This reminds me of my Lennon dream with the L-shaped staircase.

On Thursday I drove to HouseLift, the renovation company that repaired our porch, returning a sign that had been sitting in the yard for a while. I was surprised to see a large demo room full of kitchen cabinets. There was also a photo I liked of a small bathroom sink made of a blue and white Dutch-patterned ceramic bowl. Now I understand that they often work on historic houses.

(Friday, August 4, 2022)

In the dream, I am lying in bed with my spouse Chris. Perhaps we are sleeping in a hotel, or in a large apartment complex, because I crawl out of bed and walk through the bedroom door to a large locker room.

I am naked, at least from the top. I cover my breasts with my arms and open a locker to grab a bra, underwear and daytime clothes. It’s early enough in the day that the locker room is empty of other people, although I hear them speaking in connected rooms.

When we are both dressed, we head out to our car with our two children. It is at this point of the dream that I realize we are African American. The children are small, one boy and one girl. The vehicle is old but functional, all we can afford. Perhaps we live in low income, subsidized housing. The back seat of the car is folded down, and the children lie flat. I have some anxiety about their safety, so I don’t want them to be visible. I love them.

When I wake up from the dream, it feels like a past life that Chris and I shared. Or a life that is somehow connected to this one, but very different.

(Wednesday, July 27, 2022) new moon Cancer / tarot 9 of cups

Bonnie and I are at a conference, sleeping in separate hotel beds. She has scheduled the exact time when we are to wake up and get dressed. I resist. I want to keep dreaming. I desire rest, vacation. Even in my sleep, I am conscious of all of the conversations and presentations at the event.

Finally, I get up and Bonnie is dressed, ready for our travel. The black blouse I grab from my suitcase is very wrinkled, so I need an iron. A secluded, extremely anxious and suffering woman is hidden in a large closet. She hands me an iron and ironing board through the closet door. The iron is full of water. It starts to soak my blouse, and I pour the water out, twice. Once the black blouse is dry and ironed, I find it very elegant. Bonnie and I move on.

Day notes:

This is a very literal dream. Pat had COVID at the IASD conference and had to quarantine in his hotel room, which made him extremely sad. It is a normal function for Bonnie to schedule the bulk of our adventures when we travel together (flights, hotels, etc.) The elegant blouse seems to symbolize my black wings artwork that was exhibited at the conference (and which I had to repair). We experienced a monsoon in Green Valley that poured nearly 8 inches of rain in one hour. Bonnie and I agree that we no longer want to attend the dream conference.