Minneiska (White Water), Minnehaha (The Falls), Mississippi (Great River)

(Saturday, May 15, 2021) waxing crescent moon Cancer / tarot 7 of cups

I have a lucid dream this morning in a black environment (not my normal grey lucid space). “The dark before the dawn.” Noise from a neighbor’s house woke me up at 1:08 and I am able to recall many details from the dream. It stayed with me for a long time.

The dream:

I own an old, two-story house with two bedrooms upstairs: one for me, one for a man who has passed away. His spirit is still strongly present in his room, in the way that I always experience Jim’s energy when I visit Jeanne’s house. Even though it is my current house, which is a one-and-a-half-story Queen Anne bungalow, in the dream it is two full stories: a farmhouse design like Cullan and Hillary’s home.

I perceive and visit many rooms in other dimensions in the upper floor, but the two bedrooms, the spousal rooms, have the most physical and emotional power. A big refrigerator that looks like the 80s era version in our basement sits near the staircase between the bedrooms. It is full of fresh food. I notice two large, long loaves of bread and wonder if they have expired, since the refrigerator is very old. A telepathic message is sent to me that my parents have provided the new loaves of bread and the other good food. The fridge feels like a safe, a deposit box, full of wealthy nutrition. I experience my parents’ spiritual presence as they move on, gliding through the air.

I head outside. My niece Sarah and her two daughters live one block down the street, but I am able to coax them to move to the house directly next to mine. The two homes are divided by a driveway, as are the two real-world Queen Anne bungalows (our house and the neighbor’s house) built by the same family in 1903.

The dream street is long and straight. Our house faces a berm that faces a railway. The neighborhood reminds me of Highway 61 near my family’s ancestral town of Minneiska, where the bluffs wind down to the highway and the train tracks follow the Mississippi. Tangletown is a high hill on the edge of Minnehaha Creek. Tangletown used to be called Fuller, which is my grandmother’s maiden name.

I focus on the house itself, 100 Rustic Lodge West. The siding is original, aging, hand-sawn wood, reminding me in waking life of my grandmother’s farmhouse, which was built in a lumberyard next to the Mississippi in the late 19th century.

The sky is pitch black, midnight during a new moon. There is a tall ladder attached to both floors of the house but in the darkness I have trouble seeing how I can safely travel up the rungs, especially at my age. I pull the ladder away and prop it against the porch, making it easy to inspect the roofing. It all looks protective and up to snuff.

Rustic cabin at the clay tour in the St. Croix valley.

Day notes:

Chris and I have been worried because his CKD (chronic kidney disease) is nearly at stage 4. His numbers continually drop. He may need dialysis. His liver (cirrhosis from Hep C) is impacting his kidneys, perhaps.

I pulled a tarot card to ask about this dream and got the 10 of pentacles, which can mean inheritance. Family happiness, multiple generations. The elders prepare to leave.

Moving At Warp Speed, Meeting A Famous Magician, Embracing My Feminine Dual And Triple

(Monday, March 15, 2021) waxing crescent moon Aries / tarot The Magician

I am traveling in the deep blackness of outer space, perhaps in a small ship, perhaps flying multidimensionally with my body. I am moving at warp speed, many millions of light years from earth. I arrive at a planet that is newly colonized by humans and other entities, but almost as soon as I land, I feel a calling to head to the earth, even though my sensibility is not purely human.

A black, cylindrical storage bin I carried with me like a backpack is empty. I try to compress it into a flat, dish-shaped object, pushing down on the top. It doesn’t budge. I ask some fellow astronauts for help, but even together we cannot flatten the container. I let it go. No baggage.

The dream shifts. I am in Minneapolis with another woman. She is either my old artist friend Denisea or a twin aspect of myself. It is past sunset, dim. We are walking south on Washington Avenue, heading to the former warehouse district where we would always do art crawls and openings at The Women’s Art Resources of Minnesota. We were members of WARM when it was in the Wyman Building on First Avenue.

To my left I feel the presence of the photography gallery where Bonnie and Claudia have exhibited, but we keep walking. The dream atmosphere is night-like and nothing feels like a normal human experience. Magical, quantum energy is everywhere.

My twin tells me she just met Bob Dylan and that they were instantly attracted to each other. Even though he is a famous genius and my twin is not, he has agreed to meet with her at a large old building on Third and Second. “Third Avenue? Third Street?” I ask my friend. She is unsure. I tell her that we will figure it out.

We reach the warehouse district and it must be the time period when we loved it so deeply, in the eighties and nineties, because many of the historic brick buildings are surrounded by parking lots. These days those asphalt lots have turned into high-rises for the Millennial and Gen Z communities.

I focus on a very tall building between Second and Third Avenue. The entrance is mysterious, hard to find. We have to wander around to the loading docks before we see a door we can enter. The interior has a large, open courtyard. We look upward, watching many floors of people mingling and moving. It is evening-dark inside, but there are decorative lights that festively illuminate different areas of the warehouse. Some parts of the structure are off-limits, blocked, secret.

Bob Dylan has a full floor at an elevated level, perhaps a recording studio, but we don’t know how to reach him because of the restricted staircases and rooms. Denisea realizes that she left Dylan’s phone number on a piece of paper in her car, parked on the street. She heads outside to look for her vehicle, and I stay inside, attentive to the creative atmosphere. I am thrilled beyond belief that she gets to hang out with Bob. I want to meet him too.

As I stand quietly watching the activity, I notice three young women who live together in a studio that has floor-to-ceiling windows facing the courtyard. A small three-layer kiln sits in the middle of the main room. The kiln looks a bit neglected and the women seem to be struggling with the ceramic process, which makes me sad. I head in to help guide them.

Day notes:

I became obsessed with Dylan when he released “Blood on the Tracks” (recorded in 1974). That is the year Chris was run over by a Santa Fe locomotive in Chicago. Denisea and I met Chris at the Northern Artist Coop in Lowertown in 1993. Denisea’s birthday is March 20, the Spring Equinox.

I have dreamt of this exact building before, but not for quite a few years.

Dreaming of Dylan made me wake up in ecstasy. Famous characters in my dreams: Merlin, Ben Franklin, Joan of Arc, John Lennon, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Frida Kahlo.

Rome-ing

(Wednesday, March 10, 2021) waning crescent moon in Aquarius / tarot three of swords

Early this morning I awake from a vivid dream with many scenes. It starts in a rental space in a seaside tourist city. Cullan and I have a generous home together, perhaps in a hotel or apartment building. All of the buildings in the city are connected, as they were in ancient civilizations.

People and ships are very active in the harbor. I can view them from my windows but I am concentrated on cleaning and organizing. Cullan comes and goes as he pleases. Each time he returns, our home has shifted to a to a new size and floor plan, in a new era in time.

I continue working on repairing our home, often an overwhelming task. Sometimes Cullan is gone for a long time. There is one moment when I pick up a printed map from a tabletop and am astonished by the beautiful imagery. Giant statues of holy saints are spread throughout the city. It seems to be Rome. I then have a dream vision of being deep in the ocean, in a large stone mausoleum that twists and sinks. But it is a dream within a dream, and the drowning, trapped human may not even be my current self. I am able to control the danger, evicting myself from the dream within the dream.

Finally at the end of the dream I have made major progress in caring for our home. I feel gratitude, peace. I want Cullan to be healed. That is my deepest wish in life.

The Dreamsters Union