Author: Denise

(Thursday, December 4, 2014)

Many long and detailed dreams over the past three days (Thursday, Friday, Saturday).

Again I am in a large conference center full of people. In the earliest part of the dream I am sitting in a room with my sister Jo, her husband Timm and others. I’ve lost the memory of what we are doing together.

The dream progresses to another part of the center. I’m holding my infant son in my arms. He is the size of a large doll and is contained in a cardboard box, like a toy. Baby and box are swaddled in a warm blanket. I am standing in front of a counter, buying something from a couple of women who are working concessions. A pacifier or some formula, I’m not sure.

I take my sleeping baby out from his wrappings to show the women. I am a little surprised at his appearance: he has pointed elf ears, a pointed chin and the top of his bald head is pointed too. His nose is very long and thin. His skin is rather loose and wrinkly, like an old man or an elephant. He is the size of a premie, maybe one or two pounds.

The dream shifts to a warm and comfy room where people are resting in chairs and on sofas. A fireplace is burning. I am getting ready to head outside to explore the neighborhood so I put baby down on a couch, leaning over him, tucking soft blankets around his tiny frame.

I stretch my body long over the sofa and feel a man behind me encircle my waist with his arms and press himself against me. We are both clothed but I feel his erection. Surprised again. I turn around to see Scott, Chris’ boyhood friend from Chicago.

The dream shifts to the outdoors. I ride my bicycle through a neighborhood that is canopied by mature oak trees. Rolling hills. I know that Bonnie is very familiar with this place, so maybe it is Shady Oak. I am enchanted by a house that has a roof made of many colors and varieties of quartz shingles. Each shingle is framed by lead, like a stained glass window.

The dream shifts to the interior of the center again. I am holding my bicycle high above my head because the room is crowded with people. The bicycle weighs one hundred pounds but I am very strong. Carrying the bike creates no effort. I enjoy my strength.

The room has some kind of connection to the W.A.R.M. gallery because there is an old poster on a wooden door that says “Betty Friedan Was Here.” A heavy wooden table blocks the door, so again I am surprised. How did I get back into the center? I move through the crowd with my bike, wheels spinning overhead. Bonnie and Pat are waiting in the next room. The dream dissolves.

Day notes:

Magical baby. Ancient? Premature?

Scott called Chris a day after I had this dream, which is a pretty rare event. Chris calls Scott his “brother.”

I had another dream this week with similar sexual content but a different partner.

Spinning wheels: fate, karma, fairy tales. The image of two spinning wheels reminds me of the Magician’s lemniscate, the symbol of infinity.

Robert Waggoner says a counter can be indicative of the border between the living and the dead. Or maybe a border between dimensions.

Betty Friedan wrote “The Feminine Mystique.”

I have indeed lost the memory of what my family and I are “doing together.” I don’t have a sense of belonging, of connection. I don’t feel sad or anxious about it.

Working concessions. Pacifier. Formula. Center. Warm.

The point on baby’s head is interesting. I think of the cap that Harry the Magician gave me. Symbolizes the eighth chakra, I think, six or so inches above the crown of the head. Where the Akashic Record is stored.

(Wednesday, November 26, 2014) Moon: waxing crescent 25% Aquarius / Tarot: three of wands reversed

When I was in Santa Fe in September I visited the Tower Gallery in Nambe, run by the sculptor Roxanne Swentzell from the Santa Clara pueblo. I signed up for the gallery’s email list but hadn’t received any messages. So on Friday I contacted them and asked about the February clay workshop Roxanne teaches each year.

I received an immediate reply from a woman named Cindy. The workshop is February 16–20. Cindy said she will be sending information out soon.

On Tuesday afternoon I showed Chris Roxanne’s website. He loved her sculptures. I have always been drawn to the humor and strength of her work.

Tonight Chris and I were watching the PBS Newshour. They ran a segment about the fires and floods that have destroyed a canyon sacred to the people of the Santa Clara pueblo. The first person they interviewed was Roxanne Swentzell! She was filmed working on her seed bank, a collection of seeds native to the area that she hopes to plant in the burned out forests and washed out stream beds.

One of the past life visions that I had during my visit with Sabine was of a very young girl from the Santa Clara pueblo.

Day notes:

It seems doubtful this workshop fits within my budget but I know it is important to pay attention to these “external” messages.

(Wednesday, November 26, 2014) Moon: waxing crescent 25% Aquarius / Tarot: three of wands reversed

I’m surrounded by many souls in a rambling, one-story red brick building. It has the feeling of the riverfront by the Stone Arch Bridge: a warehouse space full of colorful places to eat and shop and gather.

I’m wearing a gauzy black dress with a hem to my ankles. The skirt is full and flouncy. I run happily from corner to corner in the huge building. The dress flows and swirls about my lithe and fit body like translucent black winds, like clouds. I run and run without any shortness of breath or fatigue.

In one room I dance past Angela. In another room I experience the energetic body of Chris. He has made the transition from the physical to the spiritual plane. I am very curious about how that feels. His astral body floats a foot or so off the floor, and is a blueish grey color.

In another large hall I see my grandmother seated Indian-style on the floor. I haven’t seen her, even in my dreams, for many years. She asks me a question that we both know I can answer, but before I’m able to reply she tells a bawdy one-liner. I don’t remember the joke when I wake up.

Day notes:

I have this dream that includes my Indian grandmother the same day that I see Roxanne Swentzell on the news.

Another dream of “Angela.” The angelic realm? Roxanne has the same large, dark doe eyes as the two Angelas who are my coworkers in waking life. This dream character seems to be Angela Swenson. Angela Swenson ran her first marathon this fall. Swenson/Swentzell.

I don’t have any grief about Chris and his transition in this dream. I just want to explore and understand the physics and energetics of that other dimension.

This dream has characteristics of Rubedo: celebratory gathering, beautiful colors, red bricks, black light, appearance of the crone or earth mother.

This environment is nearly identical to that of the dream “Pool of Still Water” (red brick buildings and streets) except that this dream has a river running through it. Running water! Was that part of my grandmother’s joke?

I am making some updates to this page (on Friday) when there is a knock at the front door. It’s a city worker. A water main has broken and there is water flowing down the street. “Burst water vein,” says Chris.