TheDreamstersUnion

(Monday, September 2, 2013)  Interesting how the 4000 year old practices of Taoism echo what I have been learning about lucid dreaming from Robert Waggoner and others:

http://www.healingtao.org/deutsch/artikel2.htm

I particularly like this paragraph:

“It has been discovered since ancient times that if the circulation of the life force is not balanced, the resulting imbalance manifests very clearly in the quality of one’s dreams. Generally as the meridians are opened and one learns to regulate the emotions through specific energy practices, there is a reduction of ordinary dreams. One begins to have less and less of turbulent emotional dreams which originate from congested organs and in its place the luminous dreams of profound experiences begin to manifest from time to time. A practitioner, who for example has been keeping dream journals for several years, after a months of intense meridian exercises and meditations usually report very infrequent dreams that are very widely spaced apart. After some time they also begin to experience greater clarity in dream state. Dreams are more vivid, the images more powerful carrying a sense of transcendence.”

I went to Fridley High School yesterday for Aarthi’s Bharatanatyam Arangetram (dance recital). I hadn’t been there since my graduation in 1975. Part of my experience mirrored my consort dream: Several male members of the dancer’s family tried to escort me to a celebratory meal in the old cafeteria but I didn’t feel well. So I ducked into a bathroom, then made my escape to the empty part of the building, the sciences wing. I had to push through double doors (two sets) to exit the building.

The day before the recital I awakened from an emotionally powerful, but simple dream. I’m floating in space. My Tai-Chi teacher flies up from behind me and embraces me. I am filled with love and turn to face him, returning his gift. We hover together in space, filled with warmth and love.

I wish I could make sense of these dreams where Rob appears. I think this dream may mean that he forgives me for making my irritating statement in class two weeks ago that left him visibly angered. Most likely the lover is not anyone I know from my daily life, but is my animus. The sacred union.

(Wednesday, August 28, 2013)  I am sitting on a wooden chair on the front porch of a large, two-story beach house, facing west. The house sits alone on a huge, barren plain, like a prop on an empty stage, in the midst of a black light sky. There’s a dim glow at the horizon all around. The ocean is too far away to be visible.

Chris is standing next to me. He has dark hair and is twenty years younger, but I still recognize him. He shows me a metal structure that’s shaped like an open, ribbed seashell at the front of the porch. It curls up into a low barrier. The house seems to sit inside this shell. He’s a little distressed; he waves his arms about and says, “Can you believe it? This is all the protection they give us!”

I telepathically understand that he’s fearful of a tsunami. I’m caught off guard by his expectation to be protected from a wall of water ten stories tall. I wonder who “they” are. The dream architects? The tsunami is Chris’ fear of death and in the dream I wish he didn’t feel he is the only one to face the inevitable.

Because of the surrealist surroundings (it all looks very much like a Salvador Dali painting), and because of my telepathic ability, I know I am dreaming.

I walk into the house and sit down at a table to play cards with Chris and a few other people. I look up to see a double row of Souls who are watching us play. No one else at the table seems aware of them. A female Soul in the back row leans forward and focuses her brilliant blue eyes on me. She has an electric aura that crackles with power. She is Chris’ favorite aunt Jo, who died of dementia in 2009. It’s very important to her that I recognize and acknowledge her presence.

Day notes:

We received an unexpected check from Jo’s estate last week, just in time for Chris’ birthday and his trip home to Chicago. I often find myself thanking her for the generous gifts she left us in her will. I have wondered if she can hear me.

The way Jo looks at me in the dream is very much the way she locked her gaze in on me the last time we met in the nursing home. She stared mutely for several minutes. It seemed she was trying to tell me something: something big, something overwhelming. It broke my heart.

(Sunday, August 18, 2013)  Very short dream from a night full of dreams: I walk down a long corridor of wooden doors (maybe walnut) in a public building. One door has a small sign that says “Confessional.” The door is new and pristine. I open it and place another door that I have been carrying inside the simple, wood-paneled closet. The door I have been carrying is also handsomely constructed, new and made of dark wood. Affixed to the door is a small pastoral landscape, painted in a realist, nineteenth-century European style. It’s an artwork I created in a past life: spreading green trees, rolling hills, placid blue sky.

Day notes:

I’ve been reading an old astrological chart I had done in the 90s. The astrologer said a planetary placement indicated at least one past life as an artist.

This dream reminds me of my Joan of Arc dream. The two dreams seem like doors to the Akashic Record.

I spent most of the weekend in my clay studio. I’m happy with the way the new Mermaid piece is progressing.