TheDreamstersUnion

(Saturday, October 29, 2016) new moon Libra (Black Moon) / tarot ten of swords

When I awoke this morning I knew I’d had a night filled with dreams, although I recalled none of them. I laid on my left side and closed my eyes, waiting to see if any memories would percolate up. The 100% full moon occurs tomorrow in Scorpio (water sign of transformation and the underworld), trine Neptune (the planet that rules dreaming), therefore powerful dreams and a “thinning of the veil” are expected by some folks, just in time for Halloween.

Three fragments bubbled up. In the first, I enter a large, square hall with a polished wooden floor. The hall is hundreds of years old, completely devoid of furnishings, and the high walls contain multiple recessed rooms, each with a bed, each hidden by elegant drapery. The Observer Me sees that I am sleeping in one of the curtained alcoves, dreaming a dream that I first consider to be precognitive. But as I enter more completely into the structure of the dream, I perceive the way we create the fabric of reality through our dreams. Dreams construct, not preview, and that is the value of lucid dreaming: bringing awareness to waking life of the architectural power of dreaming. “Precognition” is more than a vision.

In the second fragment, I am floating in a small wooden row boat in a cove surrounded by steep red boulders. Cornwall? The sea is black, the water still. A small churning begins, right below the surface, next to the left bow of my boat. An infant girl is beginning to manifest in the sea of the unconscious. She twists and turns and giggles. I dip my fingers in the water, intending to scoop her up, to save her from a potential drowning. I am not allowed to do so, for that would interfere with the completion of her manifestation. Her birth. It would prevent her from entering this world, this incarnation. At the moment of my realization, I become conscious of the teaming life beneath the midnight water. Infinite, diverse, eternal.

The third fragment takes place at my grandmother Helen’s white wooden farmhouse. It is Chris’ birthday. The house is full of celebrants. I step outside for a moment, into a gentle mist. I am completely alone; not even a single tree stands in the outer landscape.

Day notes:

Chris came home from the hospital (femur surgery #3) last night. I came home from Methodist with glitter in my eyebrows. The anniversary of my first meeting with Chris is The Day Of The Dead, November 1.

I’ve been watching “Poldark” on PBS, which takes place at the Cornish coast.

 

I have this dream Tuesday morning, October 11, the day I took Chris to the ER. The day before Yom Kippur. My parents’ 60th wedding anniversary. It has the identical spiritual intensity of my Jacob Wetterling dream.

 

I am standing in the living room of the house where I grew up, facing the large picture window. It’s twilight: the sky overhead is purple-black, but there is a white-magenta-golden glow along the entire horizon. A thin wave of light.

My father is in the street, under the streetlamp to the north of the house, at the base of the hill upon which our house sits. He is flying a kite, or a motorized toy airplane (I am not sure which), high in the sky. I have an instant, deep, multidimensional understanding of the pain and psyche that he shares with Chris. Both were involved in deadly vehicle accidents (my aunt Carol killed by a truck driven by my grandfather when my father was 5 years old, Chris run over by a train and pronounced dead at 19). Both had brilliant mothers who were elementary school teachers (my grandmother Helen decorated her farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with reproductions of paintings by Velasquez and Van Gogh). Both had abusive fathers. This vision is emotionally shocking and healing at the same time.

The kite/airplane string may hold a key, like Franklin’s electrical experiment. Something about the flying object magnetically attracts a star from trillions of light years away, from the edge of the galaxy or the edge of the universe. I do not know.

The star flies in from the west at breakneck speed. It is shaped like the Star of David, a six-pointed star that appears extruded, almost like a thick cookie, a two-dimensional shape that has become three-dimensional. The six-pointed star is filled with other shimmering stars, along the edges and within. It rotates quickly, spinning forward on its axis.

As it passes over the red brick senior high school half a block north of our house, I become extremely anxious. The starship takes a sharp turn towards our street and halts, hovering at our front door. I open the door and view the immense, pulsating star. It seems miraculous to me that such a huge ship fits in our modest neighborhood of small streets and small houses.

My long history of alien dreams makes my first reaction one of fear. Because of this history, I also know that the starship is reading my every thought. I release my fear and open my heart. I communicate love to the luminous white star, and the star loves me in return. Even in the dream I understand that this is a Big Dream.

 

SHIFT: I am standing inside the Great Hall of an ancient stone palace, next to a long stone banquet table. I see my paternal grandparents waiting at the wide entry door. They are there to assist my maternal grandparents up the short-but-steep stone staircase. The stairs are softly rounded from eons of erosion. My maternal grandparents are not as strong or as healthy as my paternal grandparents. But they make it into the ancestral temple.

I turn back to the table and converse with Julie, my beloved maternal cousin from Winona (Dakota for “firstborn daughter,” which I am but Julie is not. Winona was the daughter of Wapasha III. Wapasha II is our ancestor). We talk about the starship. Every resident of the Hall is discussing the star, but most are less captivated by its presence than am I. Including Julie.

 

SHIFT: I head out of the stone palace, into the red brick high school next to my childhood home. My father is ahead of me. We are walking down the corridor where history and social sciences were taught. Here my dream memory dissolves.

 

Day notes:

The star spins, not like a top. Wheel of Fate, Wheel of Karma. Another dream of the Hall of Records, the Akashic.

Dream conferences often take place in my dreams at my old red brick high school. I assume I was headed to a conference at the end of this dream.

A six-pointed star can represent the union of male and female. The macrocosm. As above, so below.

I have dreamt of Ben Franklin. Every stitch in his clothing was visible to me.

In a recent email from Ryan Hurd, he talks about how the fear aspect of sleep paralysis can be transformed into a spiritual, healing experience. Angels and ascended masters, not greys and goblins.

(Friday, October 21, 2016) moon: third quarter Cancer / tarot: the Dreamer (fool)

This morning I awake from a long, detailed dream with many scenes. I am again at a dream conference. This one seems to be held in our state, in Minnesota. One scene looks out over a wild, wooded lake very similar to the one at the hotel next to the Arboretum that I talked to Bonnie about as a potential site for an IASD conference.

Another scene takes place in a large bathroom shared by men and women (like Rolduc Abbey). I enter to take a shower but am told I must schedule it. Because there are so many guests at the hotel, I can’t just shower whenever I please. In one scene I forget my room key and am late to a presentation. In another I watch my coworker Leah give a demonstration on homemade yogurt recipes for children – no dream content in her talk at all!

The most haunting, resonant scene is with Rob, my former T’ai-Chi teacher. He has talked to me in waking life about studying dreaming at Pacifica. We sit together in stillness. We hold each other by our forearms, gently. I sense his happiness in our warm, physical contact, and I share his affection. Although as a woman, I expect a man to “make the first move.” It has never gone well for me in my life when I have tried to initiate a romantic relationship. I think I am intuiting his love, yet no progress comes from Rob. I start to gradually release my touch, little by little. He does not withdraw, but he does not stop me from abandoning our embrace.

Day notes:

I still receive emails from Rob, I don’t know why he has not removed me from his list. I would ask him to do so but I just can’t bear being in contact with him, in even the most slightly negative manner. When I had my “fight” with him I complained that he supplied no diagram, no video of the T’ai-Chi form movements. I felt that would have helped me tremendously. A few months later, after I left his class, he published a video on YouTube. In the video, he and his mentor Robert perform the Yang long form together.

November 4: I receive a call from Pat this afternoon. He is moving into the house of Robert Larsen, founder of Birthing Life T’ai-Chi, the school I used to attend. Rob Grunewald was my instructor. I never took classes from Robert, because his were held on Saturday, the day I block out for studio time. Bonnie and I went to a dream class at Robert’s house (located between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles) a couple of years ago and I found Robert to be a rather intimidating presence. Long story short: Pat gave my name as a reference! A phone conversation with either Robert or Rob is a very upsetting idea to me.

At our retreat at Lake Ossawinnamakee, I did end up using the first floor bathroom to shower because the upstairs bathroom was shared by four people (men and women), and rather busy. Yogurt = yoga? Peter taught yoga and a few folks brought yogurt for breakfast. Cultured milk. Because of Chris’ urgent care visit, I was late to the retreat. I think Lori and Peter used the key to open the cabin on Friday.

November 5: Rob Grunewald calls me about Pat’s rental application. We have a nice, healing conversation. I am very grateful for this. 

November 6: Pat’s application is accepted, and I dream of a distinguished elderly gentleman (like Robert Larsen) showing me and a male friend (must have been Pat!) two bedrooms at the back of his house, which is up for sale. They were once his children’s bedrooms. One has an infant crib alongside a single bed and I am satisfied because I am about to give birth (Birthing Life T’ai-Chi). In real life Robert has two grown daughters.