Category: Denise

(Tuesday, July 21, 2015)

I’m on a walking journey with my two sisters. We reach our ancestral lands (Wabasha) and part ways. I remain with the ancestors.

I am looking into the bedroom of my Irish great grandparents. I see the bed, but no walls. My father and mother, my godfather Marvin Murphy and my aunt Mary Murphy are placing medicine cups of different sizes on the bed. My father seems to be in charge of this ceremony. There is one cup for each chakra of the body. The cups are plastic, like dosage cups from a medical clinic. Each cup holds a different colored elixir. The medicine is for me. I walk on the bed but the cups do not spill.

The scene changes and I am traveling with my grandmother to what I think is an outdoor bible camp, an evangelical gathering. But rather than being seated in folding chairs, people sit at round tables, which gives the event the feeling of a funeral service: church basement, with no walls. People are very somber.

Grandmother Lenora and I circle around to the back of the crowd. We peer in at the group from far away; so far away, my grandmother can no longer see them as living, human forms. For a moment, I share her vision: the people appear as tall, thin torches, with flickering flames for heads. Gold, orange, red. Perhaps this is her funeral at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Minneiska, Minnesota. 1984.

There is a second service in this open field. My funeral.

(Wednesday, July 8, 2015)

Not much left of this dream, but it felt very lucid, sensual, real.

I’m in my house, in the kitchen. It has the feeling that I have begun to ascribe to memory. Not dream.

The pantry is a large room with thick blue-green stucco walls to the right of the kitchen. On one of the countertops I find a thin book that is made of parchment-like sheets of wood.

Impressions are left on the wooden surface from a wooden stylus. Layers and layers of scribing. Runes. I know that the language is an early version of Danish.

Day notes:

I checked out four books on runes from the library last week. One was a first edition from 1968 signed by the author. It felt like a treasure. I am interested in runes because I have wondered if the book in my dream “Yoga Couple” might have contained runes, since the writing was illegible. I am hoping to create a small book based on that dream to submit to the Rolduc art show in 2016.

(Tuesday, July 7, 2015)

Bonnie, Jeanne, Peter and I are at the U of M, on the Northrup Mall. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. We enter Northrup Auditorium together, on our way to attend a lecture. Jeanne soon runs into a group of her friends; she stays behind to chat with them. Bonnie, Peter and I move on. As we enter a second room, Bonnie ducks out to use a restroom. Peter and I continue walking toward the central auditorium.

We arrive in a hall that is similar to the actual Northrup Auditorium. A huge balcony, many rows deep, spans the back of the room. But the shape of the room is a semi-circle and the rows of seats on the main floor are stepped, like a rehearsal space for a band or orchestra. Inverted ziggurat. The floor is made of white terrazzo or marble.

Peter and I walk to the very bottom of the hall, near the speaker’s podium, which is positioned in the middle of a white stone circle. On the wall behind the podium hang display cases that are very old, like the displays at the Edgar Cayce A.R.E. The cases are full of historical photos and literature describing the teachings Peter and I have given in our past lives.

Suddenly Peter is distracted by a group from the School of Metaphysics, four rows up from us. He goes to meet with them. A Trickster figure is seated along the aisle of the fourth row, bare-chested. When I wake I think: “Walter B.”

I stand alone at the base of the ziggurat, looking about, a little bit lonely. Then I see a beam of bright white light coming from an opening door, at the upper level of the auditorium, the outer wall at my left. I head for the light.