Category: Denise

(Friday, November 15, 2024) full moon Taurus / tarot three of cups

On Tuesday I went to the MIA, ostensibly to view the clay exhibit Patrick J. recommended, O’ Powa O’ Meng: the Art and Legacy of Jody Folwell, a gifted indigenous artist from New Mexico. But what I really loved was the Tibetan Buddhist Shrine Room, filled with more than two hundred gilt-bronze sculptures, paintings, silk hangings and carpets that were created in Tibet between the 1300s and early 1900s. A recorded chant by monks with their deep Tibetan voices made me sit and listen for a while. Such a beautiful meditation. It reminded me of the chanting we did with Jill Purce at her retreat in Glastonbury. And the white silk scarves (kataks) tied around a railing in the exhibit are the same offerings Jill gave each of us when we completed her week-long ceremony. I still have mine.

Although I need to paint our entryway and my bedroom upstairs, I am winding down my 2024 New Year’s Resolution. Six rooms are done. Today I focused on my 2025 Resolution (art and writing). I drove along Minnehaha Parkway to a ceramic studio near Nokomis called The Workshop Mpls (woman-owned). Last year I asked them about their firing services but never dropped off any of my pieces. Until now. My sculptures are supposed to get fired this weekend in their smallest kiln. A little more expensive than I prefer at holiday time, but worth it. This makes me feel like I am moving on to a more creative part of my life.

(Saturday, November 9, 2024) first quarter moon Aquarius / tarot Sun

After midnight I dream of putting on a thin, long old raincoat that doesn’t feel right. Too light, not warm enough. I walk up a flight of stairs to a large closet and try on fancier, furry winter coats that once belonged to my mother.

I wake up at two and fall back to sleep an hour later, entering a dream about family:

I am in our large ancestral home, made of multiple layers. I walk outside, across a tiny pond to meet Cullan inside the open garage, which is separate from the house. He gives me information about our upcoming travel and asks me to head upstairs to pack my suitcase.

Once in my bedroom, I fall back to sleep in my dream. Just for a little while. When I wake up, I panic because I know I am late for our trip. I run down the stairs and meet Chris’ mother Kay, who passed away in 2014. A huge surprise. She tells me she is back from a long journey, including a city or country whose name she tells me but I have forgotten.

There are vanished details of both dreams. But the plots are accurate.

Day notes:

I am a person with nearly empty closets. My mother’s are packed full of things she hasn’t worn in years. She met with a surgeon on Thursday and needs to decide if she will have her knee replaced or not. The doctor told her that using the stairs helps keep her muscles stronger. I use two sets of stairs at least 20 times every day.

It felt so good to have Kay visit me in my dream. Chris was affectionately complimentary yesterday.

Kay in 2013 at her assisted living facility for dementia. The photo on the left is our Plymouth house and the painting of the geese was made by her mother, who attended The Art Institute of Chicago.

(Saturday, Day of the Dead, 2024) new moon Scorpio / tarot eight of wands

I sense the dark, nighttime sky in this dream. Cousins and other family members chat with me on the old Sheehan ancestral land, near the farmhouse front yard. I have a small sculpture I carry in my two hands. It is a little house made of tree sticks. The walls are open and I can see inside. There are two furry, grey caterpillars, one very tiny and one of a good size who starts to grow. As I watch him get bigger and bigger, I decide to walk up the grassy area that leads to the distant road. I tip the wooden “house” so the wooly caterpillar falls out into nature. That is a relief to the baby caterpillar, and to me.

Day notes:

This reminds me of the cardboard house I made for our Monday dream circle.

I will need to think about caterpillars for this dream. Worms come to mind, creatures that enter coffins and eat the dead. Bonnie and Margi visited yesterday, and the near-future of my parents passing came up in a conversation with Margi.

Day notes November 17, 2024:

Reading this dream again gives me prescient elements. The sculpture made of tree sticks must be paper clay. I will begin working on a ceramic design I made a year ago after I finish painting our entryway. The sculpture is three houses, and each house is open on a different side (top, bottom, front). Letting go of the big, wooly grey caterpillar might mean my house-painting is nearly done. Three of the rooms I painted are light grey.