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(Monday, All Hallow’s Eve, 2022) first quarter moon Aquarius / tarot eight of swords

I meet with a wise woman, close to my age, who guides me to a German spirit reader, either Gretchen (Bonnie’s deceased mother-in-law) or Dr. Sabina (a teacher of past life dreamwork). I give the psychic a book full of beautiful colored photos of Gretchen’s old house on 49th and Stevens. Many of the pages and images have note-marked questions from me.

Time passes and the wise woman guide returns the book from the psychic to me. Clear pages that are made of a thick, soft substance are attached to the book, but all are blank. This frustrates me. I ask the guide why the psychic gave no answers to my questions. She doesn’t reply, but my intuition tells me that messaging will gradually appear on the pages.

Day notes:

I met a reader at Present Moment named Martha who didn’t answer my questions. She was focused on the spirit world in my house, which doesn’t concern me, as my house dreams are not frightening. Because I told her of my dream where spirits from a mass murder flew to me in the void, she did recommend a great book, “Hands of Light.”

I visited Gretchen’s house on Sunday and the upper floor had not changed much at all in decades. The empty attic felt ancient. My cousin Tom, who has lymphoma (and who grew up a mile from here), has a wife wife named Gretchen. When they were first married they lived on 49th and Nicollet. The wise woman in the dream reminded me of the kind, friendly realtor.

I am also reading “Hagitude” by Sharon Blackie. Wise old women.

(Wednesday, October 12, 2022) waning gibbous moon Taurus / tarot king of cups

I’m attending a conference in a large communal building, a hotel. A friend is to my left, the soul of Bonnie, although she doesn’t look like Bonfire. The friend is an active, in-charge person, but I am not. I am insecure, dejected.

We attendees are all sleeping. We are dreaming of our conscious awareness. I wake up here and there, then fall back into dreamland. One moment of my sorrow occurs when I wake up briefly and try to find some clothes to wear at the event. I look inside a big, almost-empty cardboard box to my left. All I can find is a crumpled, long-sleeve black shirt. Sadly, I will stand out as neglectful from my lack of beautiful dress.

I fall back to sleep for a few seconds and wake up again. This time I turn to my right. Behind me I discover a huge box, full of lovely things for me to wear. I feel a huge sense of nearly tearful relief.

Day notes:

I had a strong sensation at our Monday night dream group that I contribute nothing. I am not able to work dreams from a psychological or social perspective, and that is usually the most helpful feedback for a dreamer. Pat is very psychic but also brilliant at the psychology of dreaming. I just can’t do it, which makes me feel stupid.

Clothes to wear: Awareness? Lack of awareness, abundant awareness.

There are lots of these designs made of blocks on the floor. The woman and a man say children have come in and taken them apart, making a mess. I start to take one apart. There are about 5 pieces. I then ask if that is ok for me to do. The woman says yes, if I buy it. I don’t think it is my style. I don’t think it would look good in my house. My house is the house I lived in on Brooks Lane in Minnetonka Beach (a darling cottage and my first house).

The woman puts the block piece up on the wall plus two framed pictures. They have a modern look. The flat pieces have abstract flowers (one each). I am now with a woman friend. The other woman asks her if she thinks they look good in my house. I am starting to think that they would