Category: Denise

(Friday, August 29, 2014)  Waxing crescent moon in Libra / nine of swords

It is the dark of night. My sister-in-law Kathy Day picks me up in a car, a full-bodied forest-green sedan from the thirties or forties. I sit in the back seat as though being chauffeured. She drives with pedal to the metal: car and driver have plenty of spunk.

We begin a steep climb that winds along the edge of a towering mountain of bare rock. I am afraid to look left into the deep, seemingly bottomless chasm. At one point the passenger door to the front seat flies open. Kathy slides over to yank it shut.

We pull off to the right side of the road. Our destination is a cavernous chamber that mirrors the dolmen/barrow from my “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” dream. The terraced entry to the dolmen is paved with tumbled and neglected white stone bricks. Weeds grow between them. A few abandoned tables, chairs and flower pots sit at the border of the patio, which overlooks the invisible valley. The exposed, hillside wall of the dolmen is built with these same white stones.

Kathy leads me inside the compound, the home of her ancestors. A distinguished elderly gentleman waits inside to greet us. I realize that Kathy is, in fact, Sabina Lucas, and the gentleman may be Carl Jung, although he is quite slender. Maybe Ernest Hartmann? They begin to affectionately converse in a German dialect I do not understand. I wonder if it is Dutch, or what my grandmother called low German. “Ich spreche nur Deutsch,” I say to them in my schoolgirl German. They both smile warmly at me and continue their animated discussion.

I look about the long, narrow room. It is a bit worn but opulent in a decidedly old European style: almost Parisian but probably Swiss. Windows are draped with voluminous clouds of fringed fabric in a rich teal-blue hue. Topaz teardrops drip from silk lampshades and the furniture is covered in scarlet velvet. I can feel the saturation of color deep in my spine.

I step into a small alcove at the right edge of the parlor. Three large bay windows surround me as I watch the dawn sky brighten and the golden sun rise. I smile happily. I sense that Dr. Jung makes note of my joy.

I turn to spy a narrow corridor behind the alcove that runs parallel to the parlor. At the halfway point this hallway is intersected by a much wider, longer corridor leading into the heart of the mountain.

I’m ready to explore this giant tunnel, the entrance of which is lined with glass cabinets and tables full of glittering knick-knacks in the shape of mythological creatures from around the world. There are no shopkeepers about. Labels and prices are stuck on the bottoms of some pieces but it seems more like a museum collection than a flea market offering.

I am mesmerized by the small sculptures, turning them about in my hands, watching light glint off their translucent surfaces. At first I assume they are inexpensive glass moldings, until Cyndi Caughron appears next to me. Cyndi is a collector: she travels to the Tucson mineral show every year. Her eyes are bright with excitement. So I realize that the little gods are crystals or gems or, in some cases, amber.

Further into the tunnel the hallway is lined with doors. My memory of the dream ends here.

Day notes:

I will be in Santa Fe in a week, meeting Dr. Lucas for my past-life intensive. She has produced a film called “Row of Tombs” about Jung and reincarnation. A dolmen is a tomb. Santa Fe is in the mountains, although the mountains in the dream are more like the Alps than the Sangre de Christo range. Hallways with doors are dreams of the Akashic, the Hall of Records.

This dream is very closely related to my “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” dream. Both contain a powerful Magus. Both dreams take place in a dolmen of white stone. In both dreams I leave my vehicle (body) to enter the magical space out of time.

My second dream of being in a moving vehicle with Sabina Lucas and working on past lives.

The dream doesn’t exactly sync with Nigel Hamilton’s 4th and 5th planes. He does distinguish between healing dreams and precognitive dreams. This dream has elements of precognition but also of going back in time.

(Sunday, August 24, 2014, Chris’ 59th birthday) New moon in Leo

In the middle of the night I dream of being surrounded by a different kind of energy than is experienced in the third dimension. Very hard to describe. Perhaps what Nigel Hamilton and Mary Ziemer call the holy winds, it had the feeling of a cyclone, a vortex. Powerful and disorientating. I don’t know if I actually woke up from that dream or if I woke up within the dream into another dream.

Day notes:

In the morning I wondered if the dream was an indicator that my mother-in-law Kay had passed. But we have, as yet, heard nothing. Chris got back from Chicago last night at 9:30 and said she was completely unresponsive during his visits.

At about 7 am I heard Chris fall in the bathroom, and then fall again as he tried to get back into the bedroom. His skin was on fire and he was completely delirious. I checked his temp: it was 104 degrees. Cullan helped me get him in the car and we drove to the West Health ER. They suspected meningitis but he was in fact septic from a UTI. They inserted an IV to hydrate him and administer antibiotics. They discharged him at 2:30 pm. He seems fully recovered. Kay was recovering from sepsis and a UTI when I saw her two weeks ago.

(Friday, August 1, 2014) Waxing crescent in Libra

Bonnie is in the lead. We are swimming down a small channel into a bay inside the Arctic Circle. There is a thin, clear layer of ice on the water and we are using the breast stroke to push our way through, like ice-breaking vessels on Lake Superior. We have packs full of camping gear on our backs but the packs are bouyant and help us swim.

It’s dawn or dusk or maybe it’s the midnight sun: the light that surrounds us is quiet and grey. The water is grey. I am surprised that it is not so cold that my body is freezing or suffering. The water invigorates but does not chill. As a child I struggled to learn the breast stroke but it comes easily now with Bonnie’s protection. I enjoy the sensation of crawling on top of the sea like an otter or a polar bear. The surface tension of the water holds and caresses my belly, arms and legs. It’s quite sensual.

We make it to the shoreline to the left of us and pull ourselves onto dry land. A small, wooden rowboat is waiting for us. We climb in and re-enter the bay. We row quite a long distance to a casino full of people who are partying and having a great time. We join the celebration.

Day notes:

I fall back to sleep after this dream and fall into another: I am calling Bonnie to tell her about the dream of the Arctic Circle. I reach one of her voice mailboxes where she has left a recording for a woman named Natalie (from the Latin meaning “born at Christmas”). I hear Paul’s voice in the background. I am reminded of my dream of “Edie the Herbalist” where my research partner and I share a voice mailbox. We share messages, telepathy.

This is a near mirror-image of Claudia’s dream called “Pushing through the frozen surface.”

Once Peter and I had identical dreams, on the same day, that we shared at dream group: we both dreamt of a boat with a shallow draft, full of people, rocking precariously on turbulent water.