Thistledown Conductor

(Wednesday, December 2, 2015) moon: third quarter Virgo / tarot: Crone of Cups

I travel to a building that has been in my dreams for over a year. I think it first appeared in my dream of the white-haired Philip Seymour Hoffman. It was in the last dream I had before the 2015 IASD conference in Virginia Beach.

The building is deep red brick, built in the style of my old high school. It is a single story, simply but elegantly constructed, with a central, rectangular courtyard. Most of the courtyard is filled by a large pool of water. Many people stand along the banks of the man-made lake.

I walk along the shoreline, entering a door that leads to a small room that has the feeling of my childhood bedroom. On a table sits a glass jar with a small Mr. Magoo type character inside. My 3D project. The tiny bald doll holds two fabric banners, each of which say “SALE.” Also on one of the banners is printed the image of a human skull. The skull was not processed correctly before it was printed (it’s full of “artifacts”) and needs touching up in Photoshop. I have been working with the company president and vice president, both of whom are highly critical. Their minds change with the wind. I lose my patience. I can’t do this kind of commercial work anymore. I decide to leave both the room and the design profession.

At the moment I make this decision a tall white-haired man appears next to me. He is a master healer and teacher, serious and calm in nature. I receive a telepathic message from the community of souls on the edge of the pool that this is a great blessing. This teacher is a very evolved entity. But I do not know if he is here to heal me, or to teach me how to heal. I think of Chiron, The Wounded Healer.

My teacher and I converse as we walk along the lakeshore to a wooden wharf that opens to the sea. On the wharf are dozens of women of every age, all wearing identical tan dresses, lounging about like joyful sea lions. The brown, sun-kissed skin of the mermaids glows. I receive another telepathic message: powerful solar rays have penetrated to their bones, healing them.

We turn back along the shore and enter the building again. I see a thin, lovely woman in great emotional pain, standing with her belly to a countertop, her back facing me. I drape a soft gold and magenta shawl (cashmere? prayer shawl?) around her shoulders. I am surprised to understand that this gift has healed her.

At this moment my teacher morphs into a trickster figure. He is fey, with a peaked tuft of snow white hair, what the character Jonathan Strange would describe as “thistle-down.” I receive two telepathic messages: he is a famous intuitive healer from two hundred years ago. And he heals by drawing energy from the earth, up his shins, along his belly to the top of his pointed mane.

I know he cannot be Edgar Cayce, because the timeframe is wrong, and his persona is that of an elemental. But during his time on the earth plane he was a famous as Cayce.

I walk along the banks of the lake, meeting many souls, sometimes finding the ability to heal those in need. When my energy becomes drained from this work, I kneel on the ground and my fairy guide covers me like a blanket, an etheric blanket I cannot feel with my physical body. This is how he heals me.

Day notes:

Chris’ surgery is tomorrow.

Last night I was reading about “earthing.” Grounding the electrical charge of the body.

The serious white-haired teacher reminds me of my dream character Harry the Magician.