Author: Denise

(Thursday, April 21, 2016) full moon Libra and Scorpio / tarot: Hanged Man

Prince Rogers Nelson passes at his Paisley Park “compound”

 

I arrive in my vehicle at a dusty, unpaved parking area surrounded by a rough-hewn timber-rail fence. Western style. The afternoon sun shines golden in a calm sky.

There are two ranch-style homes on the property, a family compound which covers many acres. The house nearest the fenced pen is “the kid’s house.” A boy and a girl are running outside of it, laughing happily together. In this house I sense the connection, the presence of Alea’s mother and stepfather, who own a house in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

I walk across a small field of wild prairie grass to the home that faces the kid’s house. It has a connection to my mother and father. It is the small ranch-style tract home where I grew up. I spend some time inside, conversing with my parents and doing little chores.

The back side of this house is connected to a large earthen dolmen. At first I assume it is just a hill that cozies up to the building, but when I step outside for a few moments, I notice a square hole cut into the sod. A window of another much older house is visible inside the dark square.

I return to my parents’ house and discover a passage to the dolmen house. At this point in the dream everything becomes finely visual and profoundly real. Not dreamlike at all. Is this an aspect of lucidity? I wish I knew.

The house is constructed of square-cut logs that are weathered and grey. The fibers, the grains of the wood are very sharply detailed to my eye. Handmade, heavily varnished wooden tables near a stone hearth are etched with images of horse heads. Almost like branding-iron icons, roughly carved with a knife, then stained. Flaming kerosene lanterns populate the great room, casting a warm light. The room is lived-in, but empty.

I know that this is a horse ranch somewhere out west, and I know that the time period is around the turn of the last century, perhaps as late as the 1920s. I am able to verify this by two souvenirs from my parents’ house that are perched on top of a bookcase. The souvenirs look almost like detergent bottles, made of clear glass or plastic, and are printed with lists of names of people famous near the first World War: Bertrand Russell, Gertrude Stein, T. S. Eliot, Georgia O’Keeffe. The bottles are filled with deeply colored liquid, purple and blue. Elixir.

I have had enough of these dreams now that I know for certain, while still dreaming, that this is a past-life memory. Within the dream, I experience the emotion of satisfaction and peace around this growing awareness. When I awake, I feel blessed by the power of the dream.

Day notes:

The kids move into their house next week. Alea’s mother and I both made donations to help cover closing costs.

Interesting to me that Prince passes on a Scorpio full moon (culmination), and I have a powerful past-life dream the same day. I do breathwork in the Salt Caves in the evening and feel very connected to the sorrow of all. Minneapolis has lost artistic royalty, our dancing muse.

I have quite a few dreams of dolmens, an ancient funereal structure. Dream dolmens lead to magical spirits or to past-life memories. Liminal space. The dolmen that was Sabine’s house was the size of a mountain.

The prevalence of wood could be a reference to the Tree of Life or family tree.

West in the medicine wheel is autumn, black, the womb, the cave. Also home of the cleansing Thunder Beings.

Horse: driving force, vitality

Why Bertrand Russell? “The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.” He said.

(Wednesday, April 13, 2016) moon: 1st quarter Leo / tarot: three of pentacles

Wednesday morning I drew a card from my round tarot deck, the three of pentacles. The background image is the Andes mountains. A woman wearing an Inca-style alpaca cap builds coil pots and fires them in an outdoor mud kiln while her little papoose observes.

Along my daily river walk there stands a tall, dead cottonwood tree where eagles often perch. Yesterday (Wednesday) as I neared the white bones of the tree, an eagle flapped his wings and landed on the very tip of the uppermost limb. I had been watching him soar with his mate. A third eagle was following the pair and I wondered if it was their yearling.

I was astounded and ecstatic when the second eagle joined her mate on the pale treetop. They both began to chortle and call and whistle loudly together. Their wonderful song went on for several minutes. I couldn’t believe my luck. No other human was around to experience this beautiful, joyful event.

I once took a silly online quiz: “What is your spirit animal?” Condor is what came up for me, and the website said the North American equivalent of the Andean condor is the eagle. When I checked my email yesterday evening, I had received a link to a lovely video by Alberto Villoldo, founder of the Four Winds Society in Chile. The logo for the Four Winds is a condor with outstretched wings.

http://www.labyrinthina.com/prophecy-the-eagle-and-the-condor.html

 

 

 

 

(Good Friday, March 25, 2016) moon: waning Scorpio / tarot: six of wands

I live in a row-house that faces a large cobblestone square. The square is surrounded on all four sides by nearly identical old row-houses. It feels like Europe.

The light inside and outside of my home is distinctively dim: twilight, with no artificial luminosity. I am reminded of a dream I had of my sister-in-law Kathy where my soul seems to be the only source of illumination (sole/soul source). Or perhaps the light is coming from my eyes. All is clear and colorful at the focal point of my vision, but surrounded by grey or fog or possibly lack of physical structure.

Even so, there is energetic activity in the square. Hundreds of people have gathered to take trips on mystery tour buses. Dozens of buses are parked haphazardly along the edge of the square, and the tourists are enjoying roaming from bus to bus, interviewing the drivers and other passengers, making decisions about which tour they wish to join. The tours are guided by physicists, artists, writers and other people of elevated talent and great insight.

I am wandering about the square. I have narrowed my choice to two very famous tour guides. One guide is a brilliant man I have known for awhile. Mathematician? Barrister? Not an artist. He is extremely tall, slender, dark and handsome. We are falling in love. We stroll together back to my row-house.

Once inside, he puts his right hand around my waist and pulls me close to him. I feel deep comfort and peace in his arms. I turn to face him and we share a gentle kiss. As we begin to kiss more passionately, I notice that Chris is standing in the room, at my right, watching us.

I pull away, distraught. I fear that Chris will attack. But he responds in a calm and generous way. He is leaving me, and he is grateful that I will not be alone, that I have a loving and respectful new partner. Even in the dream, this feels like an omen.

It is time for my partner to leave as well, to start leading his tour. I decide to not be a distraction to my new lover and to not be distracted by love. I decide to take the alternate tour, which is guided by a gentleman even more evolved than Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. I twist my way through the celebratory crowd and climb onto my chosen bus.

My only memory of the tour is of a house full of beautiful cloisonné artwork and furniture. Two rather stern women docents present the highly unusual collection. Normally in cloisonné the colored enamel is bordered by tightly controlled golden wires. But in these pieces the enamel and glass spill out of the metal frames in a free and painterly fashion. Like works by Monet.

Day notes:

I had this dream in the early morning, then fell back to sleep. So the intensity has softened. The strongest images were the light itself, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, Chris’ supportive presence, and the Impressionist cloisonné.

British mystery tours are short bus trips where the destinations are unknown to the passengers.