(Tuesday, January 20, 2015) New moon in Aquarius / Tarot: ten of wands
I bring a small bag of my clothes to the laundromat to wash. The bill comes to about $10 or $15. Then I gather up a much larger collection of my wardrobe, most of what I own, and take it to a new dry cleaning shop.
The tall, fashionable woman behind the counter tells me she has a store in Amsterdam too. The floor of her shop is full of red mesh clothes hampers. One hamper is empty and for some reason I step inside. It comes to my waist and fits me like a pair of silly, baggy trousers. I step out of the hamper as the manager starts to go through my now laundered wardrobe, critiquing it as if the items are to be worn by a high-level business executive. I can tell she feels she is doing me a great favor. She points out worn fabric, loose threads and out-of-style colors with great enthusiasm. I listen with just one ear: I’m not an executive. I am tired of business. Finally she begins to calculate my bill. The cash register looks more like a casino slot machine: numbers are rolling and rolling rapidly before my eyes, in a big blur. When they stop spinning, the total comes to $185!
I pay the invoice but I decide to shop to replace every piece of clothing with something completely new. I’m on my way to a conference with Bonnie, and as usual, we arrive a few days early so we have time to explore. Bonnie is looking for paintings and art for her new house. Because the conference is in Santa Fe, there are lots of boutiques that combine art, clothing and jewelry. I am having a great time. Money seems to be no object.
When we have had enough of shopping, we head to a restaurant to eat and get ready for the conference. (It’s a restaurant I have dreamt about several times. In other dreams I have called it Pasquale’s but it looks nothing like the real cafe near the Plaza. Restaurants in Santa Fe are small with tables fitted tightly together.) This room is very expansive. In fact, I can only see our table. The rest of the room dissolves into empty, white space.
Bonnie is sitting at my left. Our table is wooden and square. We are having a lively conversation with two men across from us (when I awake their faces are invisible to me).
Suddenly a man walks up to our table, from the left. He is staring intently at me. The intensity of his gaze reminds me of my Ben Franklin dream. There is no doubt at all he wants my immediate attention. He looks a little like my dream character Harry the Magician, but he is really an exact cross between Ed Kellogg and Curtis Hoffman. Tall and slender like Kellogg but with salt and pepper hair like Hoffman. Handsome, brilliant. I twirl the turquoise earring in my left ear playfully, lean on my elbows and continue chatting with the souls sitting across from us. I don’t look at the Magician/Teacher/Professor. Yet I feel his laser-beam energy.
Bonnie later mentions how certain she is that this visitor wants to make eye contact with me. I feel unworthy. I think this relationship is impossible.
Day notes:
I have decided to look for a different T’ai-Chi class. I am still deeply upset about my outburst a month ago. I am quite sure I made Rob cry in front of everyone. I do feel unworthy. How could I have done such a thing?
I suspect that when I step into the mesh (matrix) I am transported to Amsterdam, although I have no recollection of visiting the city. Because when I step out of the hamper my clothes are already cleaned. Lost time, compression of time.
My sense of unworthiness hampers my relationship with the Professor. I need new clothes, truly, to experience my own beauty and wisdom.
There is an adorable little laundromat on the corner of the street where Sabine lives in Santa Fe. Untouched by time.