Category: Denise

I have this dream Tuesday morning, October 11, the day I took Chris to the ER. The day before Yom Kippur. My parents’ 60th wedding anniversary. It has the identical spiritual intensity of my Jacob Wetterling dream.

 

I am standing in the living room of the house where I grew up, facing the large picture window. It’s twilight: the sky overhead is purple-black, but there is a white-magenta-golden glow along the entire horizon. A thin wave of light.

My father is in the street, under the streetlamp to the north of the house, at the base of the hill upon which our house sits. He is flying a kite, or a motorized toy airplane (I am not sure which), high in the sky. I have an instant, deep, multidimensional understanding of the pain and psyche that he shares with Chris. Both were involved in deadly vehicle accidents (my aunt Carol killed by a truck driven by my grandfather when my father was 5 years old, Chris run over by a train and pronounced dead at 19). Both had brilliant mothers who were elementary school teachers (my grandmother Helen decorated her farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with reproductions of paintings by Velasquez and Van Gogh). Both had abusive fathers. This vision is emotionally shocking and healing at the same time.

The kite/airplane string may hold a key, like Franklin’s electrical experiment. Something about the flying object magnetically attracts a star from trillions of light years away, from the edge of the galaxy or the edge of the universe. I do not know.

The star flies in from the west at breakneck speed. It is shaped like the Star of David, a six-pointed star that appears extruded, almost like a thick cookie, a two-dimensional shape that has become three-dimensional. The six-pointed star is filled with other shimmering stars, along the edges and within. It rotates quickly, spinning forward on its axis.

As it passes over the red brick senior high school half a block north of our house, I become extremely anxious. The starship takes a sharp turn towards our street and halts, hovering at our front door. I open the door and view the immense, pulsating star. It seems miraculous to me that such a huge ship fits in our modest neighborhood of small streets and small houses.

My long history of alien dreams makes my first reaction one of fear. Because of this history, I also know that the starship is reading my every thought. I release my fear and open my heart. I communicate love to the luminous white star, and the star loves me in return. Even in the dream I understand that this is a Big Dream.

 

SHIFT: I am standing inside the Great Hall of an ancient stone palace, next to a long stone banquet table. I see my paternal grandparents waiting at the wide entry door. They are there to assist my maternal grandparents up the short-but-steep stone staircase. The stairs are softly rounded from eons of erosion. My maternal grandparents are not as strong or as healthy as my paternal grandparents. But they make it into the ancestral temple.

I turn back to the table and converse with Julie, my beloved maternal cousin from Winona (Dakota for “firstborn daughter,” which I am but Julie is not. Winona was the daughter of Wapasha III. Wapasha II is our ancestor). We talk about the starship. Every resident of the Hall is discussing the star, but most are less captivated by its presence than am I. Including Julie.

 

SHIFT: I head out of the stone palace, into the red brick high school next to my childhood home. My father is ahead of me. We are walking down the corridor where history and social sciences were taught. Here my dream memory dissolves.

 

Day notes:

The star spins, not like a top. Wheel of Fate, Wheel of Karma. Another dream of the Hall of Records, the Akashic.

Dream conferences often take place in my dreams at my old red brick high school. I assume I was headed to a conference at the end of this dream.

A six-pointed star can represent the union of male and female. The macrocosm. As above, so below.

I have dreamt of Ben Franklin. Every stitch in his clothing was visible to me.

In a recent email from Ryan Hurd, he talks about how the fear aspect of sleep paralysis can be transformed into a spiritual, healing experience. Angels and ascended masters, not greys and goblins.

(Friday, October 21, 2016) moon: third quarter Cancer / tarot: the Dreamer (fool)

This morning I awake from a long, detailed dream with many scenes. I am again at a dream conference. This one seems to be held in our state, in Minnesota. One scene looks out over a wild, wooded lake very similar to the one at the hotel next to the Arboretum that I talked to Bonnie about as a potential site for an IASD conference.

Another scene takes place in a large bathroom shared by men and women (like Rolduc Abbey). I enter to take a shower but am told I must schedule it. Because there are so many guests at the hotel, I can’t just shower whenever I please. In one scene I forget my room key and am late to a presentation. In another I watch my coworker Leah give a demonstration on homemade yogurt recipes for children – no dream content in her talk at all!

The most haunting, resonant scene is with Rob, my former T’ai-Chi teacher. He has talked to me in waking life about studying dreaming at Pacifica. We sit together in stillness. We hold each other by our forearms, gently. I sense his happiness in our warm, physical contact, and I share his affection. Although as a woman, I expect a man to “make the first move.” It has never gone well for me in my life when I have tried to initiate a romantic relationship. I think I am intuiting his love, yet no progress comes from Rob. I start to gradually release my touch, little by little. He does not withdraw, but he does not stop me from abandoning our embrace.

Day notes:

I still receive emails from Rob, I don’t know why he has not removed me from his list. I would ask him to do so but I just can’t bear being in contact with him, in even the most slightly negative manner. When I had my “fight” with him I complained that he supplied no diagram, no video of the T’ai-Chi form movements. I felt that would have helped me tremendously. A few months later, after I left his class, he published a video on YouTube. In the video, he and his mentor Robert perform the Yang long form together.

November 4: I receive a call from Pat this afternoon. He is moving into the house of Robert Larsen, founder of Birthing Life T’ai-Chi, the school I used to attend. Rob Grunewald was my instructor. I never took classes from Robert, because his were held on Saturday, the day I block out for studio time. Bonnie and I went to a dream class at Robert’s house (located between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles) a couple of years ago and I found Robert to be a rather intimidating presence. Long story short: Pat gave my name as a reference! A phone conversation with either Robert or Rob is a very upsetting idea to me.

At our retreat at Lake Ossawinnamakee, I did end up using the first floor bathroom to shower because the upstairs bathroom was shared by four people (men and women), and rather busy. Yogurt = yoga? Peter taught yoga and a few folks brought yogurt for breakfast. Cultured milk. Because of Chris’ urgent care visit, I was late to the retreat. I think Lori and Peter used the key to open the cabin on Friday.

November 5: Rob Grunewald calls me about Pat’s rental application. We have a nice, healing conversation. I am very grateful for this. 

November 6: Pat’s application is accepted, and I dream of a distinguished elderly gentleman (like Robert Larsen) showing me and a male friend (must have been Pat!) two bedrooms at the back of his house, which is up for sale. They were once his children’s bedrooms. One has an infant crib alongside a single bed and I am satisfied because I am about to give birth (Birthing Life T’ai-Chi). In real life Robert has two grown daughters.

(Saturday, October 8, 2016) moon: first quarter Capricorn / tarot: six of swords

Another dream about sleeping. I am me, and I am the Observer Me.

My partner/lover is talking to the owner of a moving and storage business. They are standing on the sidewalk at the edge of the warehouse, and I am sleeping out in the open, further down the sidewalk. I rest beneath a fluffy comforter with the old orange and black Allied Van Lines logo printed on it. The “A” is a giant black triangle, shaped like a highway moving toward the horizon.

I am naked beneath the covers, not at all concerned about my vulnerability. I feel safe and deeply happy about the beauty of my soul. I feel the perfect energy, intelligence and creativity of it almost like a beam of light, an aura. It infuses my mood, my mind. Anyone that I come into contact with senses this and responds with unconditional love, as if I am a perfect, angelic star-being.

But danger is on the way. My lover and the owner of the warehouse agree that I need to return home to safety. My lover awakens me and tells me that he is taking me to the airport so we can both board a plane as soon as possible. I smile. I am almost drunk with joy. High. Still fearless.

I tell him that I did not arrive on a plane, but drove my own car. This feels like a loving trick, like a joke. I am so pleased. He will have to ride in my vehicle with me for many hundreds of miles, giving us hours and hours to share stories: mandatory companionship instead of the quickness and mundane environment of a commercial flight. Road trip.

Day notes:

Well, I am not that loved. I made my coworker Christine quite angry on Thursday.

I have been experiencing mild vertigo all week.

Moving company. Moving with company. Allied. 

The Geico Sleeping Beauty ad ran on TV as I headed downstairs to record this dream (Chris is watching college football). The narrator says: “If you want someone to leave you alone, you pretend you’re sleeping. It’s what you do.”

I watched a story on the News Hour last night about Fallujah in Iraq. ISIS has completely destroyed the city. In one scene a small boy wore a t-shirt with an Allstate logo. So often in the news I see donated American clothing worn by struggling people around the world.