Category: Denise

(Thursday, August 2, 2018) waning gibbous moon Aries / tarot World

Chris and are visiting a flat in New York City. It is large, filling an entire floor of the building. The owner is away, returning soon. We are asleep, but we feel awake, because we are dreaming the same dream. It’s a simple dream: we explore the rooms of the apartment, making note of the furniture, artwork and other possessions of the resident, enjoying the energy and content of the space. We sleep on the floor as if at a slumber party, comfortably, on plenty of pillows and soft blankets, next to a glowing fireplace. Lola is with us, both physically and in dreamland.

We begin to arise from our nap as the friendly dweller walks in the door. He is someone very famous, Bob Odenkirk, I think, one of my favorite actors from “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul.”

Day notes:

I am having more and more dreams within dreams. Is this a growing trend, like my conference dreams? It seems to be.

This reminds me of the dream I had of Philip Seymour Hoffman shortly after his passing. Hoffman died in New York City in 2014. I was devastated by the loss of such brilliance. My pleasure in perceiving the fame and artistic prominence of Bob Odenkirk is powerful in this dream.

How odd to dream about visiting rooms within a dream, when one could certainly do that at the primary dream level with less complexity. What does this mean? I wonder if it is remote viewing. Or, Chris and I need to rest, but our curiosity is peeked and manifests in a dream-within-a-dream?

Saul – Sol (sun god)

Odenkirk – Odin (Norse god),  kirk (Scottish church)

Odin’s Discovery of the Runes

(Friday, July 27, 2018) blood moon eclipse Aquarius / tarot four of wands

I have a quick, dissolving memory (dream) upon awakening that deepens over the course of the day.

I move along a hallway in a bustling building, perhaps a hotel or a hospital. I am interacting rapidly but peacefully with many individuals. The corridor is the entry point for souls who have just died, who have left the three dimensional realm. I am here to assist people with their transitions, as are the multitude of other entities in the busy space. We work together in this guiding process. The mood and the environment feel normal. Not frightening or dark. The lighting, in fact, is sunny and colorful. Every soul has passed through this place a thousand times or more, so there is nothing stark or cataclysmic about it. There are tasks to complete, that’s all.

I have a sense that when I finish my final incarnation on earth, this is where I will be fulfilling my mission. A physician in the ER, so to speak. This doesn’t feel like a dream.

(Thursday, August 2, 2018)

A few days later I have two related dreams.

In the first, I am with my male spirit guide. Bodhisattva? We are in a passenger plane that crashes into the ocean, near the shore. My guide and I observe dozens of boats rushing to the crash site. To the rescue. I don’t know if they save lives or retrieve bodies. I have a dream (within the dream) about the experience and my guide tells me that some dreams are memories. Past life memories, Sabine would say.

In the second dream I am again with my guide. I look inside of a new shed on my property. I discover a tool and as I hold it in my hands, memories of a past life enter my thoughts. My guide points out that poignant physical elements can trigger past life immersions.

(Friday, July 20, 2018) moon waxing gibbous Scorpio / tarot High Priestess

I awaken with the recall of three dreams that have the same level of detail and appear to last an equal amount of time. I don’t remember the order. It’s possible they are simultaneous. They have identical value, emphasis.

Dream of black water:

I stand on the shore of a lake charged with dangerous, turbulent waves. The water is black and holds shimmering, star-like lights. These tiny twinkles flow and bob with the churning, stormy current. The sky is dark as night. This ominous atmosphere could be from the power of the weather, not from the time of day. I watch dozens of men scrambling on boats, struggling to keep them safely afloat. They are heading to the middle of the lake.

Dream of aunt Mary:

I dream of a small square building that is the same size and style as the old wash-house that existed on my grandmother’s farm. The interior shed walls are raw wood siding. No fancy plaster or drywall, and the floors are wood planks too. The space is packed with trinkets left from my aunt Mary’s lifetime of collecting simple, utilitarian items. Nothing has much value. Nothing would show up on Antiques Roadshow.

My cousins Pat and Tim Murphy (her sons) are in the storage shed with me. I am wondering where the nice old print Mary had promised me is located. My cousins don’t know where it is, or are unwilling to let me have it. It was originally owned by my wealthy great aunt Olivia (my grandmother’s sister).

Dream of the greenhouse cage:

I am in a crowded office with my coworkers. The atmosphere is chaotic. Louis (the Creative Director) pulls me aside. We walk outdoors. He has designed a new workspace just for me, adjacent to the back wall of the office building. He is very excited about it. The introvert in me appreciates this new level of privacy. It is a large area, maybe 20 feet by 20 feet. There is no floor. My desk sits upon the lush, green lawn. The walls and ceiling are constructed of thick black iron piping, as would have been used in a playground swing set from my childhood. It feels like a metal greenhouse but there is no glass sheathing. The piping rests on a foundation of very old, rotting landscape timbers.

Day notes:

Black water: a news story on Friday was about the 17 people killed in a storm on a lake in Branson, Missouri.

I looked at Chris’ MRCP results on My Chart. Many tiny “stars” showed up in his kidneys. The doctor wrote that it was probably a result of longterm lithium use. It could also be small tumors. His abdominal aorta was expanded to 3.9 cm. Normal is 2 cm. Doctors become concerned when the numbers are above 5.5 cm, but since he nearly died from an upper aortic dissection in 2011, I wonder why they are unconcerned. Below 5 cm they call it dilation, above 5 cm they call it aneurysm. 

Aunt Mary: my second recent Mary dream. Today is the Feast of Mary Magdalene. My cousins Pat and Tim never handed over the print Mary promised me. I sent Pat J. an email three days ago asking about the money he owes me from Victoria’s workshop in April. No reply.

Greenhouse: 

I immediately thought of a work cage when I woke up from this dream. Prison.