Sorcerer’s Apprentice

(Thursday, July 3, 2014) Moon in Virgo, waxing crescent.

I’m in the sacred Black Hills, driving out of Rapid City. My children are in the back seat: a boy and a girl. The boy is Cullan at the age of 6 or so, and the girl is Jamie (my sister in waking life who is 6 years younger than I). We are searching for my mother-in-law Kay, who has dementia. She has left her room and gone wandering. Walkabout.

The road begins a gradual rise. It’s coated with a light layer of slippery snow. The car slides off the right side of the road, at the start of a low ramp that curves to the west (left), but I am able to regain control and steer my vehicle back onto the pavement. I decide to stop and park alongside a purple-red granite curb, walking down a gentle slope on the left side of the road into a large, open plaza made of white marble. At the (top) north end of the plaza there is a building made of the same stone. The structure is built into the hillside beneath the curved ramp, like a druid barrow or dolmen.

I enter the building, a conference center. An event is underway. I look to my left and see the registration desk. Two men are seated at the desk, their backs facing me. As I approach them, the man on the left turns around to greet me with an enormous grin and sparkling blue/grey eyes. He is wearing a blue star-studded gown and matching tall, pointed hat on top of his brilliant white hair. Wizard’s garb. Merlin. My dream uses the word “sorcerer.”

I feel a tremendous shock of electricity run through my body as our eyes meet. He is overjoyed to see me. “Hi, my name is Harry!” he says, as the other man now turns toward me and smiles. Both faces are beaming at me. The men seem to be identical twins, but in fact are one entity, split into two figures. This understanding sends another shock deep into my bones. The sorcerer’s energy envelopes me in a sensation of hyper-reality. This part of the dream takes place in a very magical dimension. I feel more awake than in waking life.

I think I am looking for Kay, but the sorcerer knows I have come to begin my apprenticeship. He takes me by my left elbow and leads me into the conference hall to my right. The conference is about lucid dreaming and much, much more. Jean Campbell and other characters from IASD are in attendance.

The sorcerer begins to recite a poem, a spell, from a small piece of paper. The spell is about the chakras of the earth. An animal is associated with each chakra and each line of the poem. There is a line about bulls and one about lions. I think the sorcerer is going to mention eagles next but he surprises me with polar bears. White bears. He shows me the poem so I can read it for myself. (I try to bring it with me into waking life but of course I cannot.) He then expounds with tremendous scientific detail on climate change and the implications of the loss of the polar ice caps, which is changing the ocean currents.

I am deeply sad and this reminds me of Kay. I remember, too, that I have left my children waiting in the car. They must be hungry by now.

I tell the sorcerer that it’s time for me to leave. He helps me scrounge some food for Cullan and Jamie. In our every moment together he is joyful and completely supportive. As I turn to go he holds me lightly, lovingly by my shoulders, looks directly into my eyes and says, “Hey, happy birthday!” I don’t think it’s my birthday but I smile at him anyway. Wondering what he means.

I walk the short distance across the plaza to the edge of the road where my car is parked, my arms full of treats for the kids. As I open the driver’s door and tuck my head to slide into the car, I brush the top of my wizard’s hat. Only at this moment do I realize that the sorcerer has placed a cap on my head made from the leathery, dried bell of a flower. Foxglove?

We drive to the hotel or residence where Kay has been staying. It’s a pretty white stucco building with ornate carvings on the silver frames of the large picture windows. Very baroque. I am immensely relieved to discover that Kay has returned to the safety of her room on her own.

Next door to the hotel is a clothing boutique. Kay and the kids and I decide to do some shopping. The walls of the boutique are lined with wooden shelves full of beautiful scarves and accessories. In the middle of the shop is an oval-shaped display stacked with fine linen blouses and dresses. I find a white blouse that I like but I am distracted by the many other exquisite, colorful pieces on display. It feels like every garment is designed exactly for me. At one point I pick up a small hand-tooled purse of brown leather. I’m tempted to buy it but all of my shoes are black so I would have to find new shoes to match the bag. I return to the spot where I left the white blouse. It’s gone, and some of the other dresses are gone too. It’s a popular shop, apparently, and I will need to make quick, firm decisions about my purchases.

Day notes:

From the web: “Linen signifies a spiritual body that can transition to the spiritual realm … only those wearing linen pass into this timeless dimension known as Heaven.”

I am reading a book I bought at the IASD conference, Carlos Castaneda’s “The Art of Dreaming.” Don Juan doesn’t use the word “shaman” but uses the word “sorcerer” instead.

Cullan drove Alea’s car today and it started breaking down. They called AAA to tow it to the dealership in White Bear Lake.

Another word for “plaza” is “square.” Nigel Hamilton discusses the number four and the square in his book but I have loaned my copy to Pat, so I don’t have a way to reference it at the moment. White is associated with the alchemical level of Albedo but also with levels above that (especially images of winter). In the language of graphic design, K (Kay) is black.

My grandfather had identical twin brothers named Harold and Harry, who never married and never lived apart. Kay’s father’s name was Harold, which means “leader of the army.” But I also think of “herald” which  means “messenger.”

“J’aime” is French for “I love” or “I like.”

I had the strongest possible feeling when I awoke from this dream that the sorcerer was a real entity. Not a dream character. It is very interesting to me that vital members of the IASD continue to visit me in dreamtime. The connections between dreamers are real, powerful and multidimensional.

The theme of wardrobe / closets / clothing appears in many of my dreams.

I had a dream last fall of old women stitching hats that looked like trumpet flowers. “Cloister and Trumpet Hats”

From the web: “The common name for foxglove is said to come from ‘folk’s gloves,’ with ‘folk’ referring to fairy folk. Rumor also has it that picking foxglove offends the fairy folk.”