Author: Denise

(Friday, September 2, 2016) new moon Virgo / tarot: crone of blades reversed

Long dream with beautiful art images. Vivid, maybe lucid in some respects. Does not feel like a dream.

I am visiting Bonnie and Paul up north, but we are at Jeanne’s house, which is under construction. Bonnie and Paul are the architects and contractors for the project.

The order of the dream has dissolved, and does not seem particularly important.

In one scene, I sit in the middle of a large king-sized bed, on white sheets. I am naked, folding my arms protectively around my breasts. The room has open, two-by-four walls: drywall has yet to be applied. Although my body is quite slender and fit, I feel slightly exposed. In one version of the dream, I put on my magenta yoga top. In another version, I put on my short, red-flannel nightgown.

In a second scene, Bonnie and I admire artwork created by Jeanne’s daughter. One edge of the room, connected to the center of the house, has a wide, roughed-in wooden arch. We stand perpendicular to the arch, near two outer walls with large windows. Below the windows are numerous, expensive flat-file art cabinets, filled with drawings and paintings by Jeanne’s daughter. Gouache paintings on large sheets of watercolor paper are strewn on top of the cabinets. I leaf through them. I am impressed, less so by the quality than the overwhelming quantity. The skill level is that of a gifted middle-school girl, still under development. But the astonishing quantity of work demonstrates deep, profound commitment. She will succeed. There is no doubt.

In another scene, Bonnie introduces me to a man, perhaps a relative, that she has invited up to keep me company, or maybe to help heal my masculine side. He and I enjoy spending time together but we are both married. So I hesitate to become too attached to him, even though I am relaxed and happy in his presence. He is athletic, handsome and warm. Calm and funny. His feminine side is evolved — he is very balanced.

Day notes:

On Sunday I am heading up north to the house Bonnie and Paul built in Walker. Yay!

Jeanne’s house. Wooden arch. Jeanne d’Arc. Jeanne/Joan of Arc was both warrior and martyr/victim. Last night (before making this verbal connection) I looked up the miracles the Catholic church accepted to canonize Joan. What is the implication of having a “saint” as a past life? Too overwhelming to even consider.

The solar eclipse yesterday was promoted by astrologers as being a difficult one. Suddenly, life at work is getting complex again. On Thursday (her birthday), Cyndi found out her beloved cat Lucky had cancer and had to be put down. The same day, she was told she needed immediate surgery, so her operation is scheduled for Tuesday. The surgeons will be threading through her sternum to repair vertebrae which are compressing from radiation treatments, threatening serious nerve damage. Akina, another coworker (in China), is on indefinite medical leave. Early in the week, my boss Louis told me we would be hiring more designers soon. Because I have done such a good job mentoring Alysia in Phoenix, he asked if I wanted to move into management. I don’t. Yet I don’t want to be managed, either.

Neptune was in opposition in Pisces for this eclipse, therefore powerful dreams, perhaps of past lives, have been suggested.

I think Jeanne’s daughter in the dream represents my path as a ceramic artist. A long learning curve, still much progress to be made. Perhaps I am midway to mastery. But I am committed. Jeanne Peppel’s daughter has a doctorate.

I do have a large king-sized bed with white sheets. Chris calls it The Veranda. King beds are perfectly square. North = white in the medicine wheel and in alchemy.

Bare wood. Bare naked. Exposing my core. Interesting that the dream architects (Bonnie and Paul) are so prominant. Not just a hidden assumption. Active, visible.

 

(Saturday, August 27, 2016) moon: waning crescent Cancer / tarot: seven of swords reversed

I am at my grandmother’s farm near Wabasha. The house is designed like an Italian palazzo, not a midwestern farmhouse. The floor plan is perfectly square: two stories with very high ceilings and a flat roof.

My sisters and I are asleep in the upper level. Our beds are situated in a corner of the large open room that has no interior walls. I awake, sit up in bed and notice the brilliantly shiny, golden wooden floor. It looks like the surface of a ballroom, a dance hall. There is a dark seam that runs through the middle of the room. The wood has begun to split at this seam (perpendicular to the grooved slats) and each side of the floor is gently angled, starting to fall away from the center. I get out of bed, kneel and press my hands firmly along one edge of the fault line, excited at the idea of the house breaking in half and toppling. But the floor and the entire structure are still very solid.

I head outside. My coworker Angela is present in her director role, here to protect. Guardian angel. Taller than I, boisterous and joyful.

It is morning, time for me to get dressed for the day and I do so out of doors, in front of many other souls who are doing the same. I have chosen an outfit I would not normally wear, a black-and-white-striped Italian or French style long-sleeved tunic with black sweats. Like the gear of a mime or beatnik or artist. In the dream I wonder about this choice. Am I in Italy? Amatrice?

Day notes:

People are living outdoors after the devastating quake in Italy. There was a 6.8 quake in Myanmar as well that killed 4 and damaged 200 temples.

Angela S. has appeared in my dreams before. Her title at work is Channel Marketing Director. She does have an extroverted, happy disposition. I think the dream character, though, is one of my spirit guides. I am quite sure I heard her beautiful voice a year ago during the last meditation we had at Peace Valley, Arkansas.

Why am I so happy about the the fault line? The family split? The eventual outcome has presented itself but is many years, perhaps centuries, away. My parents’ 60th wedding anniversary is in October.

Yesterday was the second anniversary of Kay’s passing. It was a frightening day. Chris’ skin looked grey and his breathing was extremely labored, shallow. He took a short, loud, small breath every two or three seconds. He slept till 9:30 in the morning and went to bed at 7. I wanted him to go to the doctor but he said he was fine. I thought he seemed better today but he says he has aching in his back, and he is still having trouble breathing. I suspect his heart, that his atrial fibrillation is acting up.

(Thursday, August 25, 2016) moon: third quarter Gemini / tarot: four of wands

I awake from what feels like a pretty mundane dream. I am in a large communal space, maybe a hotel. It seems to be just one level, ground level, covering a very wide swath of land. Many acres.

I am Chris’ caregiver. I want to refresh, to take a shower. But each shower room I enter in the complex is unavailable in some way. Under repair or remodel or rented by another guest.

So I go back to see Chris in his suite. His mental condition is severely deteriorated, as it was in the years following his craniotomy. Traumatic Brain Injury. To me that always felt as though his mind had completely lost anchor. Like his thoughts were constantly being erased by huge electrical waves, storms of emotional upheaval.

Day notes:

I get up at 5 to feed kitty. I am ready to head into the bathroom but Chris beats me to it. I have to wait to take my daily shower. I recognize immediately the precognitive element of my morning dream.

Later in the day the second half of the dream appears. My boss Louis comes over to my desk and I can tell he is having one of his blood sugar episodes. He is very aggressive and irrational. I have to keep asking him firm and direct questions because I don’t understand his train of thought. He is asking me to perform tasks that the web team have been doing for years, not me, and he is completely surprised to hear my explanation of who does what. He challenges me over and over. I don’t back down. He scribbles a bunch of notes on a sheet of paper outlining what he expects me to do but then begins to walk away with those notes. In frustration, I ask him to make a copy for me, and that angers him.