Denise – Page 128 – TheDreamstersUnion

05/25/201905/27/2019

Waking Dream: Rooftop Angel And River Of Death

(Friday, May 24, 2019) waning gibbous moon Aquarius, tarot five of pentacles

I’m not sure how to write about the last two days. The waking and sleeping dreams seem related.

Chris had day surgery yesterday at HCMC on the top floor. We walked into a large, empty lobby with floor-to-ceiling windows along the full east wall. I could see that the hospital helicopter landing was directly across the street and I pointed that out to Chris.

After they rolled Chris into surgery and I was sitting in the lobby listening to a podcast, I saw a huge helicopter hover over the hospital rooftop. It definitely was not a traffic copter. It circled slowly over the landing and I saw its North Memorial logo. A few minutes after the rotary blades shut down, a door opened at a small, rectangular tower near the helicopter base. Six healthcare workers started walking toward the air ambulance and were greeted by perhaps that many EMTs exiting the copter. The EMTs rolled a child-sized gurney into the opened door, which must have been an elevator tower: delivering a child in need to a Level 1 Trauma Center. That made me very sad. I soon found out that Chris’ procedure had failed, so we rescheduled for another surgery on June 13.

I had very little sleep before the procedure and even less following. Last night was full of dreams that made me feel I was working hard all night. Then Lola started begging for breakfast at 4 am. After I fed her I fell back into long, restricted sleep paralysis. There was strong pressure on my lungs and heart. I struggled and struggled to move, with no success. At one point, my dying coworker Cyndi appeared in my dream. She was glowing. I have been thinking lately of the experience of my last visit with passing Mama Kay, when she was visibly luminous. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I escaped my paralysis.

When I checked emails this morning, the first thing I saw was a Caring Bridge update on Cyndi’s decline. It seemed like a final entry. A spiritual poem was posted about the river of death. I sent Cyndi a message thanking her for visiting me in my dream.

Somehow, the helicopter and Cyndi’s dream visit are related. She is small enough to fit in a child-sized gurney. Perhaps she was trying to soothe me a bit after the horrid day at the hospital. Two doctors are suspicious that Chris may have colon cancer. He’s down to 153 pounds.

09/22/201805/25/2019

Old-New Digs For My Ancestors

(Saturday, Autumnal Equinox 2018) waxing gibbous moon Pisces / tarot 4 of sparks (wands)

I stand next to my tall cousin Thomas Wolfe at a Wabasha family reunion. Our grandparents Lenora and Ellsworth are long-passed. The humble two-story farmhouse has transformed into the ruins of a large tower with a square footprint. The roof is gone. We explore the ancient, decomposing interior. Within the dream I realize I have been in this dream environment before.

Tom and I inspect the old walnut paneled walls. During our childhood the walls were wrapped in depression-era floral wallpaper. The dream rooms have the ambiance of a medieval British manor house. Windows are open, broken, and no furnishings remain.

Generations of family members, many that I do not recognize, roam about the property, celebrating being in this historical place together. Tom and I head outside, and I walk down an embankment of greens and marsh grasses. I warn others, including a man named Guillermo, to be careful. In my perception of the dream, the slope opens to the sand road, as it did in real life, but to others it may lead to a bed of water. Even the ocean.

We return to the yard. The wire fence is gone. The giant box elders that bordered the fencing for decades have fallen. Their bark is gone. They look like leg bones the size of evergreens in Muir Woods. Because of their giant presence they must be many hundreds of years old.

Giggling groups of children run past us, wishing to play in the dark old root cellar. Tom and I decide to inspect it before allowing access to the double-door that rests in the earth on the east side of the foundation. We are astonished at what we find. The stairs are no longer a few, simple concrete steps, but a deep set of stone stairs that twist, leading to a well-lit group of rooms designed for and occupied by Lenora and Ellsworth. Colorful, charming, casual modern furniture fills the space, identical in style to the royal blue couches on my grandmother’s porch that I dreamt about last month. No grandparents in sight at the moment.

The experience of ducking my head below the low staircase ceiling and brushing away the sticky spider threads soaks into my mind, suddenly making me aware that we are visiting the underground graves of my ancestors. THERE IS NO DEATH. They are still alive, but in a different realm than my daily waking consciousness. Or perhaps moved on to new incarnations in the here and now.

Day notes:

My second tower dream this week. Tom Wolfe reminds me of Black Wolf Romeo, who appeared in my Glastonbury dream, loping across the Wabasha prairie. Prayer-ie as Victoria said.

I awaken with the powerful understanding that life is eternal. The message is quite visceral. It no longer feels theoretical.

As I rested in bed this morning experiencing the memory of this dream, I connected the trees to John Muir. Later in the day I received an email about the equinox that included a quote from Muir: “As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.”

More and more I notice how my morning tarot card reflects not just my day, but also my dream.

A story pops up on Google today about Guillermo del Toro. The Tor is the ancient ruin, St. Michael’s tower, in Glastonbury. It has no roof, and a square footprint. St. Michael’s will be the lighted crown on the head of the standing bear, my next clay piece.

Root cellar, ancestral roots. Spider webs, time lord. Many metaphors in this dream. There are underground chambers beneath the Tor. Sabine visited them and said they are strongly haunted. The more I process this dream, the more I find it related to my Merlin dream. Will I ever get to Glastonbury again?

09/21/201809/22/2018

The Twin Towers

(Thursday, September 20, 2018) waxing gibbous Aquarius / tarot Chariot

I am in the driver’s seat of a car parked near the entrance to a tall healthcare facility. I shift into reverse, backing the vehicle alongside and even over the top of cement walkways. Parallel parking. Then I shift forward and drive to another multistory facility in the same complex, parking safely in the lot.

I enter the building lobby. Cullan joins me. We take the elevator up to the surgery floor. I hold a large gauze pad over my throat, symbolizing the need for tissue to be removed from my thyroid.

Day notes:

I have been experiencing heart palpitations since I was told Alysia in Phoenix might be let go. Today it was even worse. I felt several sharp pains on the left side of my chest, so I went to have an EKG at the Allina West Health emergency facility. A wonderful, kind doctor told me I have premature ventricular contractions (PVC). It can be caused by stress. It is “benign” and does not lead to more serious cardiovascular conditions, unless it worsens. He looked at my records and commented that I had not had my thyroid nodule examined since 2015. I told him that was my decision because it has tested as normal for nearly 20 years. I asked the ER physician if my PVC could be caused by hormonal disruption. He doubted that it would be.

Tonight the physical sensation of my beating heart is very strong.

The Chariot card seems related to this dream. Chariot is often about career, and the horses/sphinxes pull in opposite directions, like my erratic heart chambers.