Author: Denise

(Friday, December 13, 2013)  An epic dream with many parts:

Our dream group is walking around the world. We are journeying to the dream conference together. The sky overhead is dark; perhaps it is night.

I make a detour to my home to check on a construction project. The lower level is being refinished. I walk down some shallow stairs into the space, which is very familiar: it’s the room I had for both Mr. Georgius’ speech class in tenth grade and for Mrs. Kunze’s kindergarten class. Because the room was designed for presentations there is a small, elevated stage at one end. The door where I enter the room, at the foot of the stairs, is also the side door of the stage.

From the stage I walk down two steps to the main floor. The room is long and narrow with an aggregate, institutional-style floor. The floor of my memory. At the far side of the room is another stage that is very shallow: it’s a film stage, which does not exist in waking life.

I hear a fluttering/clattering noise. Suddenly all four walls are being covered with narrow, hinged panels: tall screens that fold and expand like wings. The surface of the panels has a dark-light, brown-cream pattern, similar to the Cecropia (giant silk-moth). Thousands of winged dakinis (or moths?) are creating the screens instantly before my eyes. Beautiful.

I leave my house and meet up with Bonnie. We are scheduled to assist one of the main presenters at the dream conference, so we hurry to the event.

At the hotel we enter a room with chairs arranged in a circle. The presenter, who looks like the breathworker Terry Peterson I met at the Mankato Women’s Spirituality Conference, is very nervous. It’s her first dream conference. But Bonnie and I continue on: we walk through a side door into the next room, which is a half-circle and has descending levels, like the band practice pit at my old high school. It, too, has a hard, aggregate floor. This is the main presentation venue.

I feel guilty, however, about abandoning a new presenter. I tell Bonnie that I am going back to help Terry. I’m nervous myself, and when I am affected by nerves or stage fright I often suffer from coughing jags. I prepare a glass of cold chai latte (brown and cream) and store it in a little backstage room off of the main meeting room.

(Monday, December 16, 2013) I’m in a huge library (or book-store). Bigger than the Barnes and Noble I visited in LA. The books are shelved on blonde wooden bookcases, not on the metal racks one would expect in a public library. The lighting is brightly elegant and the floors are blonde wood too. It’s a beautiful, open space, yet I do think it is a library.

All of my Ergotron coworkers are gathered together at a far end of the room where the lighting is dimmer. They are happy to be together and get along well with each other and with me. But my time with them is over. I feel warmly toward them but have no regrets about parting ways.

I see my coworker Larry McGowan, who passed away in October from cardiac arrest, standing silently at the end of an aisle, along a main corridor. He is in the middle of the library, and I am quite far away from him, in a more illuminated space. I move toward him. He never speaks, but I can sense his diseased heart with my own heart. His is inflamed and enlarged and will shortly erupt in a massive, deadly heart attack.

In my dream I question why I dream about Larry’s death in the style of a precognition when it’s something that I have already experienced in waking life. My dream-self wonders if Larry is someone else in my life.

Day Notes:

I did have a precognition about Larry passing before we left for the Black Hills. Chris and I fought about smoking on Friday.

Is this an Akashic Record dream? Am I being given information?

Larry is in the main artery of the library.

(Tuesday, December 17) I received this email on Monday: “Today we learned about the passing of Mike Peters. Mike was well liked by all and I know many of us kept in touch with him after he left Ergotron. He was a true sales pro and I know many if us saw him frequently on the road.  Apparently he passed away of a heart attack while he was on the road traveling for Humanscale on Friday. Below is a posting on his Facebook page. Mike was a great guy. He will be missed.” Mike and Larry both had dark hair and wore glasses.

(Sunday, December 15, 2013)  I’m in my mid-to-late twenties. I run and leap like a gazelle into a workout room with wooden floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. I’m in peak condition: every part of my body feels very fit.

The space has the aura of the Friends Meeting Room. A blond boy, around the age of 12 or 13, watches me. An adult male voice in my head tells me, “you ARE an athlete.”