Category: Denise

(Monday, November 18, 2024) waxing gibbous moon Cancer / tarot seven of cups

Lately I wake up and have the memory of a long, long dream, yet most of the visual details are gone. What is left is a strong feeling in the heart and sensitivity to the alternative dimension that is dreaming. My unconscious is very conscious. I guess that is the normal dreaming process but I feel more connected to the energy than the story. Thriving in the void.

This morning I have a cloudy dream of being in the upper level of a large building, working at something. Plenty of others are also working, and we all have our individual chores. A small little sculpture or religious piece made of pine or rosemary needles falls from the front of a window onto the steep hillside far below. One of the male workers, a manager, wants me to fetch the piece, even though it is not mine and I did not drop it. I tell him I am on my way to a road, to a journey. Once outside I try to grab the fallen, breaking green needles but they are under a wooden patio and I cannot easily reach them.

I move onto the dirt road, walking towards a river bed. I have dreamt of this road, crossing an expansive grey river, many times in my life. Often it has been very precarious travel. In this dream I look ahead but the dream ends before I make any progress on the road. A symbol of death or transformation? There is an electrical, charging element of this dream, too, that just bubbled up, but I can’t really see it anymore. Maybe the fix to the power sockets/system is one of my chores. I don’t know.

Day notes:

I had a recent dream where my father allowed me to plant a field of rosemary at his old house. I thought that was a symbol of a cemetery. The river road has shown up in my dreams when family members pass away. Years ago, I remember dreaming about my grandmother Helen Luther traveling on a road or a bridge from one side of the river to “the other side.” But I also dream of the river road or river bridge when it is not related to death. A different dimension? Progression in this life?

Rosemary still surviving in my autumn garden bed

Symbolism of rosemary: Love, lust, memory and mourning are all associated with this aromatic herb. Since ancient times, the aromatic herb rosemary has been believed to improve your memory.

(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.