Category: Denise

(Sunday, February 9. 2014) I’ve had two very similar dreams this week.

In the first, I have inherited or moved back into my large ancestral home. I’m exploring or reacquainting myself with the inner spaces. I’m very excited and want to share the experience with others but am unable to create any interest in the people I know.

I enter one of the bathrooms in the house. The floor and walls are completely covered with small (4-inch square) tiles that are much thicker than modern manufactured tiles. The bathtub, sink and toilet appear to be from the 1920s or 30s. I think the tiles are a deep green color. There is no window so the lighting is dim and the room has the feeling of a cloistered, protective place.

The space is more than a story tall. I look upward but the ceiling is not visible to me. I notice metal rungs built into the wall behind the bathtub and so I start to climb. The rungs are feathered with fine cobwebs; no one has touched them for a very long time.

In the second dream, I enter a large public bathroom with no windows and soft lighting. My coworker Steve Adams has brought his two small daughters into the room to wash up. This space is also completely covered with handsome ceramic tiles, but these tiles are horizontal (perhaps 4 x 8), slate-colored and modern. It feels like an airport restroom.

Again I notice metal ladder rungs built into the wall. I start to climb. I cannot see the ceiling. I have a thought that I may sometimes need to move not just in a vertical direction, but horizontally as well. As I reach out my right hand, rungs form and fill the wall.

Waking thoughts:

The first room is square and the room feels like a deep well. Climbing the rungs of the ladder feels like climbing from the bottom of an underground sewer or tunnel system. The second room is rectangular in shape, mirroring the shape of the slate-colored tiles. It feels like ground level. The space is doubled (4 x 4 turns to 4 x 8).

Both rooms are fully functional. No clogged sinks or toilets as I have dreamed about in the distant past. Rooms of purification.

The rungs of the ladder echo the structure of the human spine. The dreams start at the base of the spine, in the root chakra, where waste is released and energy from the earth is absorbed into the body.

The rooms themselves mirror the inside of a ceramic kiln.

Steve Adams and I work at the same level: he is the lead web designer, I am the lead print designer.

The first dream has the sense (that I am beginning to more easily recognize) of a past life dream. There I am unable to find kindred souls but in the second, modern dream a coworker and his children share the room with me. Perhaps this time around I will have more success finding like-minded souls in my spiritual journey. The second restroom (room of rest, retreat) is located in an airport, where people journey through the air. Fly.

From the web: The ladder may indicate access to high places in this life or access to special places in the universe. It indicates meditation and prayer. You are setting forth on a spiritual path and higher awareness. Each rung of the ladder is symbolic of a stage in your spiritual awareness. The dream may also highlight how you are looking at things from a different perspective.

The dream brings up the idea of kiva and the kiva ladder. Seven rungs on a kiva ladder, seven chakras in the physical body. Kiva is sacred space, without windows, underground. Womb. Purification. I prayed in the Great Kiva at Chaco Canyon and in a smaller kiva at Bandelier in 1987.

http://www.warpaths2peacepipes.com/native-american-culture/kivas.htm

http://thssite.tripod.com/shel1/kiva.html

(Friday, December 13, 2013)  An epic dream with many parts:

Our dream group is walking around the world. We are journeying to the dream conference together. The sky overhead is dark; perhaps it is night.

I make a detour to my home to check on a construction project. The lower level is being refinished. I walk down some shallow stairs into the space, which is very familiar: it’s the room I had for both Mr. Georgius’ speech class in tenth grade and for Mrs. Kunze’s kindergarten class. Because the room was designed for presentations there is a small, elevated stage at one end. The door where I enter the room, at the foot of the stairs, is also the side door of the stage.

From the stage I walk down two steps to the main floor. The room is long and narrow with an aggregate, institutional-style floor. The floor of my memory. At the far side of the room is another stage that is very shallow: it’s a film stage, which does not exist in waking life.

I hear a fluttering/clattering noise. Suddenly all four walls are being covered with narrow, hinged panels: tall screens that fold and expand like wings. The surface of the panels has a dark-light, brown-cream pattern, similar to the Cecropia (giant silk-moth). Thousands of winged dakinis (or moths?) are creating the screens instantly before my eyes. Beautiful.

I leave my house and meet up with Bonnie. We are scheduled to assist one of the main presenters at the dream conference, so we hurry to the event.

At the hotel we enter a room with chairs arranged in a circle. The presenter, who looks like the breathworker Terry Peterson I met at the Mankato Women’s Spirituality Conference, is very nervous. It’s her first dream conference. But Bonnie and I continue on: we walk through a side door into the next room, which is a half-circle and has descending levels, like the band practice pit at my old high school. It, too, has a hard, aggregate floor. This is the main presentation venue.

I feel guilty, however, about abandoning a new presenter. I tell Bonnie that I am going back to help Terry. I’m nervous myself, and when I am affected by nerves or stage fright I often suffer from coughing jags. I prepare a glass of cold chai latte (brown and cream) and store it in a little backstage room off of the main meeting room.

(Monday, December 16, 2013) I’m in a huge library (or book-store). Bigger than the Barnes and Noble I visited in LA. The books are shelved on blonde wooden bookcases, not on the metal racks one would expect in a public library. The lighting is brightly elegant and the floors are blonde wood too. It’s a beautiful, open space, yet I do think it is a library.

All of my Ergotron coworkers are gathered together at a far end of the room where the lighting is dimmer. They are happy to be together and get along well with each other and with me. But my time with them is over. I feel warmly toward them but have no regrets about parting ways.

I see my coworker Larry McGowan, who passed away in October from cardiac arrest, standing silently at the end of an aisle, along a main corridor. He is in the middle of the library, and I am quite far away from him, in a more illuminated space. I move toward him. He never speaks, but I can sense his diseased heart with my own heart. His is inflamed and enlarged and will shortly erupt in a massive, deadly heart attack.

In my dream I question why I dream about Larry’s death in the style of a precognition when it’s something that I have already experienced in waking life. My dream-self wonders if Larry is someone else in my life.

Day Notes:

I did have a precognition about Larry passing before we left for the Black Hills. Chris and I fought about smoking on Friday.

Is this an Akashic Record dream? Am I being given information?

Larry is in the main artery of the library.

(Tuesday, December 17) I received this email on Monday: “Today we learned about the passing of Mike Peters. Mike was well liked by all and I know many of us kept in touch with him after he left Ergotron. He was a true sales pro and I know many if us saw him frequently on the road.  Apparently he passed away of a heart attack while he was on the road traveling for Humanscale on Friday. Below is a posting on his Facebook page. Mike was a great guy. He will be missed.” Mike and Larry both had dark hair and wore glasses.