Author: Denise

(Sunday, May 13, 2018) new moon Taurus / tarot 8 of swords

I am assigned the task of painting dozens, maybe hundreds, of large images that are about other people’s dreams. The dreamers are associates, not close friends. I have a crazy-short deadline to complete this huge project: Tuesday.

The illustrations are on sheets of paper about 2 feet tall by 3 feet wide. The initial renderings are white-on-white. I have to go through each painting with the dreamer and demonstrate to them elements of the artwork that appear the same but actually are different. I am required to use red, black, tan and white paint to define the imagery. The timeline feels impossible. And I don’t have enough paint to finish the job.

I rush to a craft store but they are going out of business. I beg with them to let me grab a few tubes of paint. The owner, a stern older woman, refuses my plea. I quickly head to a second small art supply shop but they don’t have the colors I need. Their inventory is very restricted.

Desperate, I decide to try The Home Depot. They have a tiny craft department with large tubes of acrylic paint. I run into the store and am greeted by two friendly young men. One recognizes me as the woman whose clay sculpture was shattered in shipping! I am amazed by this strange connection. They have the exact paint colors and sizes I need.

Day notes:

This last month has been the most stressful time in the 13 years I have worked at Ergotron. This week I have multiple deadlines for a huge print project using a color palette of red, black, white and grey. I am working with two young designers named John. John B. is guiding the project with very tight control. Type A personality. John R. is struggling to complete a series of drawings that were supposed to be done two weeks ago. This affects my deadline in a wicked way.

I bought a new, larger carry-on today for packing my clay pieces for the Paradise Valley art show. Now I just need some bubble wrap from The Home Depot. I took a workshop last weekend at Northern Clay called “Pack Like A Pro.”

Clearly this dream expresses my anxiety about the upcoming week. But I think it is also directing me to stop being dictated by other people’s dreams and motivations. Time is running out. Follow MY dream of a creative life. I felt so at home last week at Northern Clay and yesterday at the St. Croix Valley Pottery Tour. My favorite artist Jenny Mendes remembered me. She pulled me aside and shared some new pieces fresh out of the kiln. A great blessing. Her work is obviously highly spiritual, yet she doesn’t promote that. Like any clay artist, she is down-to-earth grounded. I bought this four-eyed bear from Jenny.

 

(Thursday, May 3, 2018) waning gibbous moon Sagittarius, conjunct galactic center

Dreamt all night, with just a few scenes from the long movie illuminated:

1.

My home seems to be part of a large conference center or community living space. It’s a bit messy. Life has been too chaotic for me to keep up with the housework. I know Chris’ mom is coming, so I quickly vacuum the wooden floor and am surprised to discover that the space is now immaculately clean. Pleasantly pristine, with no additional effort on my part.

I then see that Kay has arrived. She stands in the middle of the kitchen with the kind of grey absence of focus she had when her dementia progressed. She doesn’t notice me. She has a slight scowl on her face, the expression of confusion caused by the dimming of mind. A blank stare.

I know she has passed, so I wonder about this visitation. What message am I to glean from her presence? Her lack of presence?

2.

While I ruminate upon this in my dream, I see that my deceased paternal grandparents Helen and Edwin are entering my house too. They have not appeared in any dream for many years. Why are they here? I am again surprised. A visitation by three ancestors, all of whom lived well into their nineties. All died of congestive heart failure. All had painful, unsuccessful romantic relationships.

3.

Later in the dream I wander away from my home and enter the dream conference. It’s busy. Sheila A. is there, telling bawdy stories of the multiple sexual affairs she has been having. These sorts of stories do not entertain me: they are an expression of the ego element of the IASD that turns me off.

When I wake up, I consider that someone from my father’s family and from Kay’s family may pass soon. In contradiction, my mother’s sister-in-law and childhood friend, my aunt Deloris, is in hospice care.

(Saturday, April 28, 2018) Pink Moon in Libra / tarot 10 of swords reversed

Today was Victoria’s dream workshop at French Park. She instructed us to bring a dream. Since our group had worked my “Synchronous Visions” dream the evening before (my 61st birthday), I brought my “Bodhisattva Combats The Dark Force” dream. This morning I arrived early at the park, so I checked my emails while waiting in the car. I was astonished to see a message from David, the lovely soul I met in Glastonbury last year on my 60th birthday. The mandala ceremony is underway there now, and he is attending. I have been planning to create a clay sculpture of a priest, a spiritual master, using David’s likeness. My heart was overwhelmed all day by the holy synchronicity of this communication. My chest and lungs physically ache.

Here is my poem about the bodhisattva dream:

I am fused with my hacker-lover.

I am guided by his Mastery of the Scorched Earth, laser-burning through the firewall.

We move like clouds, full of electricity.