Author: Denise

The synchronicity on Tuesday of reading the Skywoman myth and dreaming of the Great Flood earlier that morning has made me contemplate my muskrat dream from a few years ago.

The original dream presented as a simple fragment. I saw a round house far off in the distance, in a parched riverbed. The house appeared to be made of sticks, with no door or windows. So this mystery of how to enter the house motivated me to work the dream with Sheila Asato.

And in the way that often happens with Sheila as the guide, the dream exploded into an incredible shamanic vision. As I walked closer and closer to the round house, I realized it was not a Navaho hogan, not a beaver den, but a muskrat lodge made of twigs and cattail reeds. I understood that the entrance to the lodge was from beneath, and I suddenly found myself inside. It was here that The Ancestors began communicating with me, expressing their sorrow about the two-leggeds and our deafness to the spirit world, to the natural world. They told me that anytime I wished to speak with them I simply needed to enter the spirit lodge of brother and sister muskrat.

I left the inner lodge to travel the river bed. The valley seemed to be that of the Mississippi, but it was dry like an arroyo. I could sense the flow of an underground river made of sand. I began to fly above the bluffs, and from this vantage point I was able to follow the hidden river connecting the Wabasha valley with the mountains of Santa Fe.

At the time of this dream, I had no knowledge of the Dakotah creation story of muskrat and Turtle Island. I had no idea of the importance of muskrat in the Dakotah teachings. I feel I must have truly been communicating with my blood ancestors, for them to be able to tell me this story.

Additionally, I feel they must have told me of past lifetimes as Pueblo Indians in the Taos and Sangre de Christo mountains of New Mexico. Two lifetimes came to the surface when I worked with Sabine Lucas.

As a child of eight I experienced a Great Flood on the Mississippi River. My sister Jo and I stayed with my grandmother while my brother was being born. My father had to come pick us up in a boat. The road to the farm was completely underwater.

Muskrat totem: breathe deep!

The more I study dreams, the more miraculous they become. The more grateful I become.

I dreamt this on Friday morning and needed to let it sink in for a fuller awareness:

I am asking Angela Niemann about her twin, who stands slightly behind, at her left shoulder. Her twin is taller, with an alien appearance: translucent, papery white skin, wide-open nostrils, and huge dark eyes. This is what angels really look like, without the human overlay of wings and halos. They are from another dimension or level of reality.

Day notes:

I was happy to see the alien presence. Sabine had advised that I try to contact (telepathically) the aliens I had dreamt of for so many years. But I hadn’t had any luck at it. I read a book on the Star Nations that Pat told me about, written by an Indian professor from Montana. Several Indians said they had telepathically asked the star visitors to leave them alone, and that had worked for them. That is what I did when I was in my late 30s and I had not heard from them since.

 I have had quite a few dreams this past year of the two Angelas. When I was a child, my sisters and I walked along an abandoned dirt road on my grandmother’s farm. I found a Liberty half dollar from the 1940s laying in the sand. I’d never seen such a coin. To me, Liberty looked like an angel. She was walking through a field of stars. I was very excited to get back to the house to show my grandmother. Just before we entered the gate at the front of the house, I found a second Liberty half dollar, from the same decade, laying in the warm prairie soil. So from that time on I imagined that I was blessed with two guardian angels.

(Saturday, February 7, 2015)  Waning gibbous moon in Libra / tarot: judgment

I notice that a chunk of dark grey plaster has popped off of the wall in a hallway my husband has just refinished. The plaster piece is intact; it did not shatter in the fall, so he will be able to easily fit it back into place.

I look behind me and see that the small hallway is at the edge of a grand staircase. I realize I am in a huge manor house with fantastically tall ceilings, like Downton Abbey. It is the house from my dream “Shaking Hands with George.”  The walls are beautifully patterned paisley in velvety earthtones: green, scarlet and gold. The banisters are delicately carved oak. Rooms are warmed by ornate stone fireplaces. A sitting room floor that I at first think is dated ceramic tile from the 1970s is in fact made of shimmering amber, sienna and white-colored quartz.

Day notes:

Got caught up with Downton Abby last night online.

I understand the metaphorical aspect of the elegant, elaborate manor house full of treasure. But I also suspect this is a memory of an actual English house I have known, since this is at least the second time it has appeared in my dreams. This dream differs from the earlier dream in that the house furnishings seem fresh and new. In the “George” dream they seem worn with time.