TheDreamstersUnion

(Wednesday, March 22, 2023) new moon Aries / tarot Hierophant

Another dream with rich environmental details. Awake. Too many decorative details to add to the plot.

Scene 1:

I am in a huge kitchen with my grandmother Lenora and my grandson Wyn, helping her organize the cupboards. I open a cabinet door under the countertop and see that it goes deep into another space in the house. A secret passage. It reminds me of the firewood storage door in her old kitchen that was connected to the outside.

Two large, rectangular glass jars, filled with ground coffee, are very far back in the floor cabinet. I ask Wyn to crawl inside and pull them out. He asks why. I say we need to put them in a different cupboard that is at Lenora’s eye-level, easier for her to access.

Scene 2:

Another element of this ancestral house is the place where I work. Three female team members, much younger than I am, invite me for a walk to a restaurant to have lunch together. I agree, and we amble past a few other historic buildings, much like the North Loop, but nestled in a vast, beautiful prairie with a dark sky. I soon realize that I have less than twenty-five dollars cash in my pocket, so I tell my coworkers I am going to rush back to the office and grab my wallet. They don’t pay me much attention. They move on.

The distance to the office is much further than I realize. I run back, grab my bank card and then hurry along the trail we were using. It goes for miles. I cannot see my coworkers. Why would they journey so far for a little meal?

I reach a tall hill along the edge of a flooding creek. The water is high. How did the women pass over the flowing water? I have to figure out for myself how to cross.

(Tuesday, March 21, 2023) new moon Aries / tarot 10 of cups

I never have nightmares, but here is one. It was so vivid it felt like waking life. My spring equinox dream.

Raven:

I am standing in the basement of my childhood home, in front of the thick wooden door connected to the underground garage. The door is open, and the two outer garage doors are also open. It is 1965. I am 8 years old. The F5 tornadoes are coming.

A raven the size of an eagle has flown in to warn me. It feels like an attack. He flies with his head upright and his tail underneath, elevated like a human superhero. His wings are wide open, flapping wildly. He tries to pick at me with his talons and sharp beak. I pull away at every lunge, remaining unharmed. Eventually, I am able to coax him to return to the storm, and I shut the safety door.

Hurricane:

I belong to a small community in a well-constructed, well-designed building. We meet together in the basement. Two of the four walls are floor-to-ceiling windows, made of thick, resilient glass.

I look outside and notice dark grey clouds flying at a dangerous speed. A hurricane is coming.

Two children, Wyn and Oona, clammer to have me open a door. They are two or three years older than waking life, and excited to explore the yard. I let them stand outside for a few seconds, then I bring them back in.

I warn our community about the hurricane. I stress that we all need to move away from the glass, to the safe interior of the structure, but most people are more interested in watching the storm. They stay close to the windows, in spite of my attempt to protect them. Suddenly I see the grey clouds turn pitch black, and I scurry into a closed, wooden room with my grandchildren. I am absolutely terrified of the black hurricane. It is roaring like a train.

I hear some of the glass shatter. A few members call out that they have been hit. Luckily the glass is so strong that only tiny star-shaped pieces pop out, injuring no one.

Day notes:

Saturday night Cullan and Hillary and two of their neighbors heard gun shots along West 48th. Casings were on the street and sidewalk. Nothing hit the houses. The police were not able to catch the shooters. The neighbors are all going to update outside cameras.

Wyn and Oona have strep for the second time this year, and their daycare closed again because of covid.

March 23: At least 26 people have died from a massive tornado in Mississippi. Pluto entered Aquarius (air) on this date.

Poem (from Victoria’s workshop):

I can become empty or protective. I embrace deep soil and hard stones.

I am designed for safety, although sometimes my natural source can crack.

I am a roaring green swirl, connected to earth and sky. Death will come.

I am wise and in love with my grandmother’s old name. As her new self, she visits me in my dreams.

I am alone, the odd one, the wild one. My crystal blue eyes are open. Too open?

I am the youthful trauma that leads to independence.