TheDreamstersUnion

(Tuesday, December 27, 2022) waxing crescent moon Pisces / tarot Empress

I am traveling down along the Mississippi, on highway 61, to my former ancestral home. When I come inside, a group of friendly young handymen show me the renovated hardwood floors. “Very nice,” I say, although it is a bit too DIY for my eye. I am ready to move on, because I have a new house, but a cyclone is coming. I suggest moving children to the root cellar. The young residents say the bathroom (that used to be my great-grandparents’ bedroom) is fine. They are probably right, because it is a snow cyclone, like the one that killed so many people in Buffalo.

Day notes:

This makes me think of our Plymouth house. The young couple that bought the house has done a few projects, including the wood floors. I never felt safe in that house during tornado warnings as the lower level faced southwest and had no concrete block wall to protect from the winds.

I dream Bonnie and I have lost our spouses. I suggest we buy a house together, maybe close to family in Minnesota, maybe in New Mexico.

(Winter Solstice, 2022)

This dream takes place in my universal, unlimited square-footage house. I’m taking a shower, getting dressed and preparing to travel to the office, when I notice the clock. It is five in the afternoon, quitting time. I am done with office work! Now I have time to spend my efforts on my old house. There is a baseboard near the front door covered with wood putty that needs sanding and painting.

I walk back a few rooms. One hallway floor has four kinds of brick and stone. When I wake up, I realize those different cobbles are centuries apart.

There is a back door that is vivid in the dream but now has dimmed in my memory. Through the door window, I see another house, very close. This entryway is next to a large square room with two identical, energetic ceramic sculptures hanging on the wall next to each other, with a window between them. The ceramic is white with colored glazes, in dramatic majolica style. Circular bases, plates, three-feet in diameter, hold large human heads that are mythical, historic in nature, that I can’t quite identify. They remind me of jesters, the blowing North Wind, magicians. The majolica patterns around the plate edges look like the Wheel of Fortune (the tarot card I draw on Christmas Eve day.)

I decide to clean the room’s stone floor, paint the walls white, and turn this open space into a playroom for Wyn and Oona. The dream ends here, but after I wake up I have an early vision from the dream. My tall male spirit guide shows me that the dream goes back immeasurable generations. Perhaps a past life dream.

Day notes:

I babysit Wyn and Oona on Cullan’s 40th birthday.

When I wake up from this dream, I think of the Ben Franklin dream I had years ago: there was a white bust over a fireplace that turned out to exist on the entryway door at Franklin’s birthplace on Milk Street in Boston.

February 28: This is a premonition. I lost my job of 18 years on January 3, 2023.