(Thursday, March 15, 2018) moon waning crescent Pisces / tarot ace of wands
I am not sure how to write about this. It’s a dream that seems to last all night, but what strikes me is the level of numinous, delicate detail. Rooms and rooms are filled with intricately carved wooden furniture and decor. Wooden walls, wooden floors, wooden doors. I have experienced this environment in other dreams. The light is softly golden and saturates all elements. The underlying energy of the physical reality is quietly palpable. Like a glowing fire.
One room is a large bath. The tall, white ceramic tub is full of towels stained with puss and blood, which have dried and stained the porcelain too. The body fluids are from Chris. It is my overwhelming responsibility to try to clean up this horror. He makes no effort, and my compassion is overridden by my exhaustion. My frustration and anger.
I move to another room. It is the sunroom from a dream I had last year about the beautiful sea and some shelter islands. This time the room is occupied by an East Indian man I work with in waking life. He is a software engineer with very dark skin, nearly black. The room has been set up with carved wooden shelves, desks and chairs. Golden oak. The style is old, European, but relaxed. I open my arms like a dancer. “This is your new workspace,” I say.
Day notes:
As I write this dream the coyotes make very short howls in the backyard. Almost bird-like.
The house in Northeast where Cullan was conceived had a sunroom. I kept my drawing table there, in the same spot against the wall where the dream desk sits.