Author: Denise

(Tuesday, June 2, 2015) Moon: full Sagittarius / tarot: ace of wands reversed

A short, simple dream filled with emotional power. I am exhibiting many pieces at the dream conference art show. One large table is filled with my works: ceramic animals and abstract vessels coated in high-gloss glaze. The surfaces of my pieces in waking life have a matte finish, so that is different, but the dream art has an oddness of spirit that feels like me. Many of the forms have lids that can be shifted and shared between them.

I am talking earnestly to my new mentor, a tall gentleman in his sixties. He offers me $4,000 for a sculpture of a creature on wheels. He points out the fragility of the wheels but wishes to take the piece nonetheless. He is interested in purchasing more of my artwork as it is created over the course of time. I am astonished and deeply joyful. This feels like a huge shift in my life. What I have been waiting for.

The room, which is already full of people, becomes even busier and slightly chaotic. The conversation with my mentor is interrupted, but I am not worried: we will reconnect later when the atmosphere has calmed.

The gallery director, a blond woman in her fifties, is not so confident as I. She expresses her frustration with me for losing or delaying the acquisition of funds, a percentage of which goes to the conference.

 

(Monday, June 1, 2015) Moon: full Sagittarius / tarot: crone of pentacles

Conference dream last night. The conference is held in a building with deep red brick walls and white terrazzo floors, like my high school that was built in 1960. A handsome building with large skylights and multi-level ramps that were fun to slide down. Like skiing or surfing on stone.

My two friends and I are running gleefully through the halls at full speed, in the spirit of small children, though we are adults.  One of my friends is male and one is female, but in the dream they are always in shadow, so I don’t know if they are Bonnie, Jeanne or Peter.

We run through a wide glass door that leads outside to a stone wharf with angled sides. It’s evening: stars are twinkling in an indigo sky and the dark water is completely still. We are running so fast we can’t stop. We leap into the water, laughing.

The shock and surprise of our entry into the water is that it is warm and soothing, in spite of being part of an ocean bay. I immediately relax. Floating in the harbor is magical, delightful. There are no boats docked on the surface of the harbor, but sailing vessels and a village of lights many layers deep are visible just beneath our paddling feet.

This scene or the memory of it dissolves. My friends and I are back in the conference center, running wildly down the hallways again. High energy. We come to the intersection of two corridors and nearly run down a man and a woman standing under a skylight. The man is a bit derisive. He finds us immature and uncontrolled; we find us joyful!

It’s Ice T, the renaissance-man rapper, actor, writer, political activist. Only in my dream he is much younger, taller and fitter than in waking life (he is nearly my age, born in 1958). He has six pack abs and a mane of thick dreads that frame his handsome face like an aurora. His mate is a Scandinavian beauty, extremely tall and lithe, with platinum hair and translucent skin.

He has become bored of her company. Her cold beauty is all she has to offer. He would like to speak to me, to get to know me better.

Day notes:

Interesting that this dream comes soon after the dream of the “Scandinavian King.” Ice T has the air of a black lion, a Lion King. His consort is a Scandinavian Queen. Ice queen.

My guess is that part of this dream explores the depths of the ocean, the vessels and the village of the deep. I am not allowed to remember that scene, perhaps.

(Sunday, May 31, 2015) Moon: waxing gibbous Scorpio / tarot: four of swords

Lots of dreams lately, few of them sticking. Too tired, I think.

I had a brief, apparition-style dream this morning. A spirit materializes beneath the green art table in the basement where Chris stores empty canvases and sketch books. I see a ghostly head form beneath the floor, in the earth, then rise up into the table and above it. The spirit is regal: wearing a huge crown, heavy robes and layers of jewels. A voice tells me he is a Scandinavian king.

Day notes:

Why not a Nordic king instead of a Scandinavian king? When I wake I think it is Chris in a past life, but there is no dream evidence for that other than my own intuition. Chris’ genetic history is Danish and Norwegian. He is the king of near-death experiences, that is for sure.

The tarot card I drew this morning shows a sarcophagus with a stone sculpture of a knight resting on the lid. A stained glass window shines behind the tomb. A woman and child are portrayed in the glass.