Author: Denise

(Sunday, September 28, 2014)  Waxing crescent Scorpio / Judgment reversed

I’m being shown a map that looks like one of those holographic images from a TV drama (“CSI” or “Bones”). It’s large and transparent, hovering vertically in the air in front of me. It illustrates events scheduled to take place in the coming weeks. I am unable to bring a conscious memory of the projection/precognition into waking life but I feel that the diagram is stored in my body.

I move my awareness from the map to a female guide at my right side. She stands slightly behind me, so I can’t see her, but I think it is Sabine Lucas. Sabine introduces me to a young woman with a tattoo on her upper arm and coal black hair, cut in a style I have seen in old Pueblo Indian ceremonial paintings: short bangs, a second layer cut to just below the ears, with the rest flowing long against her back. She has huge dark doe eyes but her skin is pale white, not brown.

I have been told to plan a trip to Berkeley, which I have done, with the exception of arranging a place to stay. I don’t understand why I am going to Berkeley. Sabine tells me that the young woman has a passionate desire to accompany me on my trip, and I agree to accept her companionship. She has tremendous physical, emotional and spiritual energy. Her hair glistens like the finest silk and I can’t help but caress a strand between my thumb and forefinger, as if preparing threads for the spinning wheel.

Day notes:

When I awake I wonder if this dream is about a young version of Edie the Herbalist. Sabine told me Edie was one of my past lives. But Sabine and I also seemed to uncover two past lives as Pueblo Indians (one female, one male). Cullan has a tattoo of the ace of pentacles on his upper arm.

This dream was visually rich. I remembered more details but I fell back to sleep and lost some of the imagery. Plus, the internet was down today, so I was unable to record the dream early in the day when memories may have been more clear.

Maybe I dream of Berkeley because the psi dream conference is underway? I can travel to Berkeley in dream time without needing a physical place to stay.

(Saturday, September 20, 2014)  Waxing crescent in Leo / six of pentacles

One past life dream I shared with Dr Lucas was that of a Victorian era prostitute who was murdered and thrown down some stairs into a cellar. I had the dream nearly 30 years ago and awoke in terror, smelling blood. Her/my legs were broken, perhaps tumbling down the stairs, and she/I had been slashed many times with a knife.

This morning I experienced an episode of sleep paralysis, which I have had since childhood. A feature of sleep paralysis is intense, often fearful visions that are very difficult to shake because one is unable to move the body. One is a victim of the visions until the ability to break out of the frozen physical state returns, usually by moving muscles in the face or hands.

It’s been awhile since I’ve had this experience, so this morning it was particularly frightening. I awoke from the sleep state into not just paralysis, but the sensation of being strangled. I felt strong pressure on my throat and had trouble breathing. I looked up and saw that I was being raped and assaulted by a middle-aged white man. I could see all of his features clearly, including the wrinkles in his skin and the thinning white hairs on his chest. I thought he must be the man who murdered the poor street walker.

Sabine prepared me for the fact that in the last part of my life I will be gathering more and more memories.

 

 

(Friday, September 19, 2014)  Waxing crescent in Leo / six of pentacles

I awake into the realization that I am the new owner of an old mansion that sits on a very high ridge above the sea. I leave my bedroom and descend a staircase into a great room with a ceiling at least 20 feet tall, perhaps more. Even the MacMansions being built in my Plymouth neighborhood do not have such expansive spaces. I notice the size of the rooms and begin to calculate the number of gallons of paint it will take to coat the walls. Hundreds.

Lola is with me, inspecting hidden corners. I realize I need to leave her behind for a little while when I go to visit my family, who are staying at the bottom of the hill. I already know that the house is haunted with spirits, but she is a black cat. She is a witch’s cat. She will be fine. I get into the green vintage sedan that I dreamt about in “Hoch Deutsch” and navigate through one gravel parking lot and then a second. The age of the vehicle makes me apprehensive. I wonder if the brakes will be sufficient to make it down the steep grade of the road. So I leave the car and walk down the hill into the busy city.

I meet up with my sisters Jo and Jamie. They are getting ready to leave town themselves but want to visit my manor house. Jo particularly understands the importance of seeing my home. Perhaps our last time together?

The three of us begin walking back up the street toward my ridge. The road is so steep we lean forward to gain footing. As we cross an intersection, through a green traffic light, the clouds open and it begins to pour, but we continue on. We have been discussing some kind of trauma that our parents are experiencing, so I lift my cell phone to my ear to call my son Cullan. I’m expecting the new operating system on my iPhone (OS 8) to respond to my voice and text Cullan the news but what happens is that the message goes to an engineer I work with named Saeb. This makes me distraught, at first, until I decide to trust the intelligence of the phone and the universe. Saeb must be the intended recipient. He will be able to help in some way.

We finally arrive and enter the house through a small door at the far right side. I reach my hand across the wall to my right and find an old-fashioned light switch with two vertical buttons. I depress the upper button but I’m not sure if all of the lights go on. The house has been abandoned for decades. A dining table long enough to seat thirty people fills part of the room and the walls are layered with old paintings and bookshelves.

We walk past the great room into a long corridor. We hear voices. With my left hand I open a narrow door on the right side of the hall, a closet or a pantry. A tall, gregarious man reaches out his hand to grab mine and I shake his huge paw. It is a very physical sensation within the dream. Lucid. He tells me his name is George. He is well over six feet tall with a round friendly face and wire-rimmed glasses. Short-cropped grey hair. He is wearing a British country gentleman’s suit that is not very modern. He strides out into the hallway, pulling a lovely woman behind him by the hand. She is blond and statuesque. We seem to have surprised two secret lovers.

Jo looks at me as if to say, “Ghosts!” When we turn to look at the couple again, George is a young man: slender, with reddish brown hair. The woman, too, has gone back in time. This clandestine and devoted love affair lasted many years.