Author: Denise

(Saturday, August 25, 2018) full moon Aquarius / Carmen’s tarot deck nine of wings

Waking dream:

I spy a large feather in the backyard. I walk out to pick it up. It’s a brown turkey feather the size of an eagle feather, surrounded by a ring of smaller feathers. Nine? I bring the big feather into the house and tell Chris the turkeys have left him a birthday present.

Dream within a dream:

I am in a space that repeats the environment of my olfactory dream. The floors, walls and ceilings are carved and polished white stone. Therefore the geometry flows, curving gently. No angle is a perfect ninety degrees. No floor is exactly perpendicular to any wall. The levels of the floors and ceilings vary, like a cave.

The rooms are vast, the number infinite, empty of all decor, including furniture, doors and lighting. Even so, the rooms are brightly lit. Much of this dream has dropped away, but one clear memory remains. I am standing in a room with Victoria and her female associate. Both women are known for their work as dream guides. Victoria’s professional friend is taller, with shoulder-length grey hair. Freya Diamond?

I have summoned Victoria to tell her my dream. I am energetic, excited. Victoria stands near a door to my left, her associate stands to my right, and we all face a wall as I begin to describe my dream. I wave my right arm in a rainbow arch and the dream vision appears, as if the wall is a computer screen. The image on the wall mirrors the “outer” dream: the three of us stand looking at my dream vision. In the dream-within-the-dream, I realize what is happening. I am fully conscious of the universal layers of the dream. I vocally declare my intent, aiming into the deeper vision like I am diving into the sea.

Day notes:

I wonder if this dream is telling me to join the IASD psiber dream conference. I never have. Certainly I should send Victoria a note. When Victoria worked my dream on my birthday at Jeanne’s house, it was my UFO dream called “Synchronous Visions,” which was about two mysterious TV screens.

These dreams-within-dreams are so potent and so hard to describe. The 100% full moon today will be in Pisces, affected by Neptune. Dreams are predicted to be powerful in these hours.

Interesting that two Santa Fe book artists, Victoria and Freya, appear in my dream after my rejection by the Minnesota Center for Book Arts.

(Wednesday, August 22, 2018) moon waxing gibbous Capricorn/ tarot nine of pentacles

I dream of being in the white stone underground at Cullan and Hillary’s Royal Wedding, struggling with Chris’ illnesses but supported by my family. Suddenly an intense odor fills my nose and lungs. The toxicity in my chest is so powerful it wakes me up and I recognize the scent. There is heat associated with it. I can no longer actually smell the chemicals, but the memory stays with me as I lie in bed, trying to identify the familiar odor. Finally I realize it is the dangerous fumes that emanate from my kiln when the temperature reaches 800 degrees. That is the point where the clay is fully purified, and shortly thereafter silicon transforms into quartz crystals.

Lola is sleeping next to me, shaking and groaning in a mild seizure. Is the dream scent a message of her epilepsy? When Chris has grand mal seizures, he experiences sharp, burning smells before losing consciousness.

The vivid reality of this olfactory dream causes me to get up and inspect the house, to make sure there is no fire burning inside.

(Tuesday, August 21, 2018) waxing gibbous moon Capricorn/ tarot King of Cups

It is evening. I am at a craft store, talking to the famous art critic Lucy Lippard. She has so much to say, yet I can keep up. She speaks rapidly, energetically and deeply about art. Theories, techniques, philosophies, politics. She is warm and friendly. I have the intellect to follow her complex threads, but I bring up the difficulty of being born a creative into a family of farmers. Peasants. She as a native New Yorker may not grasp that, although Lucy has lived “off the grid” in Gallisteo, New Mexico for many decades.

Finally I tell dear Lucy that I need to leave and get to work on my art project.

I walk through the golden dusk, arriving at a moat that surrounds a round, single-story temple. A mandala. A labyrinth. I cross a stone bridge over the water and insert a skeleton key into the wooden front door.

A man in his early forties greets me. He says he is my soulmate, but I don’t feel that kind of connection. Even so, he has my back. He wraps one arm around me as we walk towards the center of the temple, which is a circular chamber of glass. No other physical presence is in the chamber or in the rest of the building. I sense invisible spirits. I think this temple may belong to a religious cult. Why do I feel that way about a building with such an obviously sacred design?

Day notes:

A lovely man in our Paradise Valley morning group belonged to Eckankar, and other IASD Canadian members belong as well. They have always seemed kind to me, but organized religion is not what I can do. That is how I felt at my aunt’s Catholic funeral. Four men at the altar, not a single woman. Not for me.

My friend Anne and I did not get accepted into the MCBA show. Rejection made us sad, but it is a national show with only 9 contributors. It would have been a miracle if we had been juried in.

My friend Jana just moved back to Montana from California, next to the Red Sun Labyrinth. “To enter a labyrinth is to choose to walk a spiritual path.”