TheDreamstersUnion

(Friday, June 26, 2015) Moon: waxing gibbous Scorpio / Tarot: Ten of flames, the Horah

A group of us, friends, are standing together in a skyscraper, looking out a large picture window. We know that a great earthquake is coming, we have known for years, but none of us are aware of the timing. We are very high up, near the top floor of the building, but the view out of the window is intimate. We are looking at the thick woods full of walnut and box elder trees behind my grandmother’s house. She called it “The Grove.” It marked the border between the Sheehan farm and the Lamey farm.

We peer into the green leaves and notice a dark cloud forming in the shadows. As it grows, the building begins to rumble. The tall tower leans backwards in a tight arch, like a gymnast falling into a back-bend. We wonder if the structure will recover and snap dramatically in the opposite direction. Rubber band. Which will be the greater danger, collapsing back or lunging forward?

Day notes:

As I write this, a sun shower, complete with thunder, has begun. Beautiful sound! Pungent fragrance!

I think this dream was informed by the battle in the sky I imagined yesterday between Eagle and Egret.

A simple dream that felt big. A group soul with profound, karmic earth knowledge.

Sacred grove, ancestors, liminal space, elevated spiritual level. No fear of physical consequences, but curiosity about the laws of gravity and plate tectonics.

Perhaps my friends are outside of time and space since we cannot predict the arrival of the quake.

 

 

 

(Thursday, June 25, 2015) Moon: waxing gibbous Libra / Tarot: Maat (Justice)

On my lunchtime river-walk today I glanced to my right and saw the full white wing of an egret perched in the top branches of a bush. Like it had fallen from the sky. I picked it up, gently, and looked around me to make sure I was alone, then hid the wing inside my light knit jacket. I remembered the time Rob brought an eagle feather to T’ai-Chi class. He had found not one, but two feathers, on a solo canoe trip to the Quetico. I was amazed that he did not seem to know that anyone who is not a registered tribal member needs a permit to possess an eagle feather. Maybe he didn’t care. That made me so curious I looked into it further and found that it is illegal to keep feathers or nests from any wild bird.

I walked a few more steps and saw the severed black leg of the poor egret in the middle of the asphalt trail. I carefully moved it into the grass. I tried to imagine how this could have happened: had an eagle attacked and dismembered the egret in flight? Big Rivers Park is full of bald eagles and red-tailed hawks. Coyotes too. The upper section of the leg looked as if it had been pinched clean by a powerful beak, not torn with canine teeth. To my eye.

I didn’t find any more evidence of the battle on the rest of my walk, but I did rescue a small green frog that was trying to cross Old Highway 13.

Near the end of my journey, after greeting the giant Grandmother Cottonwood tree that I love, I came around a bend in the path and saw a man doing T’ai-Chi in the middle of a beautiful grassy circle. I have never seen anyone doing T’ai-Chi in the park before. What a wonderful sight.

•••

I received a group email from Rob just this morning, so he was on my mind. He hasn’t taken me off his mailing list, even though it has been over six months since I attended his T’ai-Chi class.

The Egyptian goddess Maat is depicted in the tarot card I pulled this morning. She judges the dead. Her scales of justice hold a human heart and a small white feather. Karmic balance.

Tonight on the local news I saw a clip of an actress in an angel costume. Giant wings made of white feathers.

 

(Tuesday, June 2, 2015) Moon: full Sagittarius / tarot: ace of wands reversed

A short, simple dream filled with emotional power. I am exhibiting many pieces at the dream conference art show. One large table is filled with my works: ceramic animals and abstract vessels coated in high-gloss glaze. The surfaces of my pieces in waking life have a matte finish, so that is different, but the dream art has an oddness of spirit that feels like me. Many of the forms have lids that can be shifted and shared between them.

I am talking earnestly to my new mentor, a tall gentleman in his sixties. He offers me $4,000 for a sculpture of a creature on wheels. He points out the fragility of the wheels but wishes to take the piece nonetheless. He is interested in purchasing more of my artwork as it is created over the course of time. I am astonished and deeply joyful. This feels like a huge shift in my life. What I have been waiting for.

The room, which is already full of people, becomes even busier and slightly chaotic. The conversation with my mentor is interrupted, but I am not worried: we will reconnect later when the atmosphere has calmed.

The gallery director, a blond woman in her fifties, is not so confident as I. She expresses her frustration with me for losing or delaying the acquisition of funds, a percentage of which goes to the conference.