Category: Denise

(Wednesday, January 28, 2015)  Waxing gibbous moon in Taurus / Tarot: judgement

I park my vehicle in a parking lot next to a large center. The lot is on the right side of the one-story building. I enter the building, which is full of souls. Busy, packed like Grand Central Station at rush hour.

I’ve come to meet Chris, to help him at a pharmacy in the middle of the center. I push my way past the many people in the room to the pharmacy counter. People in line behind Chris have forced him away from the front of the line. I push them back and struggle to get the attention of the doctor behind the counter. He’s holding a glass bottle of blue elixir that I feel Chris needs very desperately. I negotiate with the pharmacist, grab the medicine and head out of the room. I’ve agreed to meet Chris outside, at my vehicle, which is now parked on the left side of the building.

After many minutes of pushing and shoving my way through the crowds I arrive at my car. But Chris is not there. I have no hope at all of finding him.

Day notes:

Monday when I was at the Ergotron sales meeting, Chris drove himself to the ER at Methodist Hospital. His leg was so swollen he could barely bend his knee. He had pain in his back and was having trouble breathing. They ran an EKG and the doctor diagnosed atrial fibrillation (afib). His INR, a test which measures blood coagulation levels, was twice the number it should have been. Monday night he told me about going to the ER, but he waited till we were out at dinner last night (Tuesday) to tell me his diagnosis. So we need to get him in to a cardiologist as soon as possible. We are both really sad. At dinner Chris said he was glad we just finished our wills and health care directives.

(Tuesday, January 20, 2015)  New moon in Aquarius / Tarot: ten of wands

I bring a small bag of my clothes to the laundromat to wash. The bill comes to about $10 or $15. Then I gather up a much larger collection of my wardrobe, most of what I own, and take it to a new dry cleaning shop.

The tall, fashionable woman behind the counter tells me she has a store in Amsterdam too. The floor of her shop is full of red mesh clothes hampers. One hamper is empty and for some reason I step inside. It comes to my waist and fits me like a pair of silly, baggy trousers. I step out of the hamper as the manager starts to go through my now laundered wardrobe, critiquing it as if the items are to be worn by a high-level business executive. I can tell she feels she is doing me a great favor. She points out worn fabric, loose threads and out-of-style colors with great enthusiasm. I listen with just one ear: I’m not an executive. I am tired of business. Finally she begins to calculate my bill. The cash register looks more like a casino slot machine: numbers are rolling and rolling rapidly before my eyes, in a big blur. When they stop spinning, the total comes to $185!

I pay the invoice but I decide to shop to replace every piece of clothing with something completely new. I’m on my way to a conference with Bonnie, and as usual, we arrive a few days early so we have time to explore. Bonnie is looking for paintings and art for her new house. Because the conference is in Santa Fe, there are lots of boutiques that combine art, clothing and jewelry. I am having a great time. Money seems to be no object.

When we have had enough of shopping, we head to a restaurant to eat and get ready for the conference. (It’s a restaurant I have dreamt about several times. In other dreams I have called it Pasquale’s but it looks nothing like the real cafe near the Plaza. Restaurants in Santa Fe are small with tables fitted tightly together.) This room is very expansive. In fact, I can only see our table. The rest of the room dissolves into empty, white space.

Bonnie is sitting at my left. Our table is wooden and square. We are having a lively conversation with two men across from us (when I awake their faces are invisible to me).

Suddenly a man walks up to our table, from the left. He is staring intently at me. The intensity of his gaze reminds me of my Ben Franklin dream. There is no doubt at all he wants my immediate attention. He looks a little like my dream character Harry the Magician, but he is really an exact cross between Ed Kellogg and Curtis Hoffman. Tall and slender like Kellogg but with salt and pepper hair like Hoffman. Handsome, brilliant. I twirl the turquoise earring in my left ear playfully, lean on my elbows and continue chatting with the souls sitting across from us. I don’t look at the Magician/Teacher/Professor. Yet I feel his laser-beam energy.

Bonnie later mentions how certain she is that this visitor wants to make eye contact with me. I feel unworthy. I think this relationship is impossible.

Day notes:

I have decided to look for a different T’ai-Chi class. I am still deeply upset about my outburst a month ago. I am quite sure I made Rob cry in front of everyone. I do feel unworthy. How could I have done such a thing?

I suspect that when I step into the mesh (matrix) I am transported to Amsterdam, although I have no recollection of visiting the city. Because when I step out of the hamper my clothes are already cleaned. Lost time, compression of time.

My sense of unworthiness hampers my relationship with the Professor. I need new clothes, truly, to experience my own beauty and wisdom.

There is an adorable little laundromat on the corner of the street where Sabine lives in Santa Fe. Untouched by time.

(Sunday, January 4, 2015) Full moon in Cancer / Tarot: six of wands

I am with many people in a large conference center. I have brought my child to the center for some kind of training or event that is being taught by a very tall man. His height varies: from a distance he appears to be seven and even eight feet tall. But when he is close enough to speak and interact with parents and children he seems to be just a few inches above six feet. He is slender and blonde.

It’s a sunny, joyful gathering. The teacher has a deep love for children and so the parents are grateful for his generous, angelic spirit.

I wander about, watching the children at play. There is a moment when the teacher takes a break from his duties and lies down with me on a soft, white, cloud-like bed which is very low to the ground. He embraces me with tremendous warmth and compassion, kissing me gently on my cheek. I am overwhelmed and surprised. Protected and loved. I consider giving him a kiss in return but I don’t understand the nature of his kiss. Instead we lie face-to-face, eyes closed, touching foreheads in a sweet embrace.

He returns to the children and I wander the upper halls of the hotel, which is part of the center. I am picking out my bedroom. I wonder if the teacher will join me later. I open the doors of each beautiful room. The doors are carved, golden wood and the interiors are clothed in royal red velvet. Many of the rooms are already occupied. The dream ends before I find a room for myself.

Day notes:

I saw a painting of a saint at the Chicago Art Institute that looked like my T’ai-Chi teacher. With a shock I realized that Rob is a very saintlike presence in my life and in the lives of many others. I felt even more regretful of my “hissy-fit” a few weeks ago at class. Maybe learning T’ai-Chi from a more flawed teacher would be easier for me.