Author: Denise

(Wednesday, September 7, 2016)

I am at a large retreat center with coworkers. The property slopes into a long oval lake or pond. The atmosphere is foggy and grey. Every bit of the soil is covered by brilliant green turf, like a golf course. (Just as in waking life, this is very upsetting to me. I have seen shocking maps of the Gulf of Mexico dead zone, which is caused by fertilizer and chemicals flowing in from the Mississippi River. When I drive through my newly-gentrified neighborhood, the perfect, weedless green lawns make me heart-sick, even angry. I am just fine with dandelions and creeping charlie.)

Everyone in the dream is working an app on their cell phones, me included. In one scene, Cullan and I are sitting in the back seat of a car (am I a child too?) and he demonstrates the functions of the app to me. Presumably Pokemon. I hold my phone in my left hand and a young boy’s sandal in my right. Even the sandal is running the Pokemon app on its sole (soul).

In another scene of the dream I am sitting in a room with my coworker Michelle as she trains her new hire. (In waking life, as in the dream, Michelle is morbidly obese. She has a kind, generous temperament, but it is obvious that the stresses of her job as Director of Communications are causing physical damage and great danger.)

I decide I have had enough. I cannot live in this culture any longer, with its toxic, fake green grass and its destructive work demands. I grab a bag of bread slices that others intend to put in the garbage, but I plan to salvage and feed to the birds. I head out the door. A shadow anxiety arises and I am afraid to scatter the bread crumbs till I have walked far away from the “monoculture” (fields without wildness).

Day notes:

As I age I feel more and more at home with spiritually-focused people and ideas. Less so with the capitalist, patriarchal, material world. I don’t even feel comfortable calling that world “real” any longer.

There is a Pokemon spot across the street from our house, at the edge of Circle Park. When we moved into the house 18 years ago, we found a young boy’s sandal. It still hangs in the garage on a nail.

(Wednesday, September 7, 2016) moon waxing crescent Scorpio / tarot Queen of Wands

It is twilight dreamtime. I sit in a small room or building, across from Jacob Wetterling. Between us is the old round walnut table from Denmark that is stored in my garden shed. We may, in fact, be seated in the shed. He is 11, the age he was when he was sexually assaulted, then murdered.

Jacob hangs his head in great sorrow and slowly tells me the entire story of his abduction. I reach my hands across the table but cannot quite make physical contact. I listen with the fullest heart.

Day notes:

Yesterday Jacob’s murderer finally confessed. So many hearts feel broken. Even the national media made this their lead story. I awoke from this dream feeling very blessed by Jacob’s visitation. Holding some of his grief in my living body. Now his spirit is free to move on.

I went into our shed yesterday to get Chris’ wheelchair. The walnut table (from Chris’ Danish father and mother) seemed to seek my attention. Wetterling is a Swedish and Danish surname, according to the web.

In the dream of my grandmother’s funeral some time back, we all sat at round tables. Dream dictionaries say round tables are about relationship, reaching out. Some say they represent heaven.

 

(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.