(Saturday, August 12, 2023) waning crescent moon Cancer / tarot knight of cups
It is dusk. I am driving a railway handcar through a wide ocean, an ocean with no visible shore. The water is about two feet deep. It does not cover the wheels, but I cannot see any train tracks under the dark waves. There is a steel truss bridge directly ahead.
I sense a tall male guide standing closely behind me, to my left. A small boy sits behind my back. I tilt my head slightly to the left to catch what the guide is telling me. He bends his head to bring his mouth near my ear. He says it is my task, my responsibility, to protect the child, although he gives me no directions or transit advice. It seems to be my duty to figure this out on my own, to trust myself.
The only thing that feels safe is to head for the bridge, since I have no idea how deep the rest of the sea could be. Yet when I turn my vision forward, the bridge has completely disappeared. Perhaps I have already driven through it. Perhaps it has dissolved.
I stare at the boundless, green-grey surf. Terrified. Then, again at my left, I notice a small island made from a mound of thick, barren tree limbs. I cannot know how buried the ocean bed is, but I take a risk, and make it to the islet.
We three sit in the handcar on the wooden shore for quite a while. Silent.
Next, a surprise. A larger island appears, to my right. This one has an inviting, one-story retreat center filled with white light and gentle, celebrational beings. I understand that the young child is ready to enter the building of light. I travel across the narrow channel, and release him to the welcoming community.
Day notes:
The island retreat center reminds me of my IASD Virginia Beach dreams, and even Hollyhock. Am I a member?
