DREAMWALKING

This is a place I have never been in before – it is night, the sky is a deep royal blue and filled with white diamond stars.  I do not see the Sister Moon.  The ground is a vibrant orange-red, and is a desert marked with huge rock formations that form a surreal landscape.  These rock formations have been honed by the wind to resemble statues, some squat and round, others lean and tall.  Against the starlit dark sky, these become alive, denizens of the desert.  It feels neither too warm nor too cold, and is too constant to feel natural, although it is very natural indeed, while the winds are light, stirring up the red dirt into small dust devils that settle just as quickly.

Now I see that there are two other men there, one very young, barely out of his teens.  His companion is an older man just entering his middle age span of life.  Both are attired in North American Native garb – buckskin, furs, and homespun garments, jewellery of turquoise, shells and agate, head dresses of feathers.  They have drums and rattles and woven blankets which they spread on the red ground, and wave me to come closer. 

I do so without hesitation, because I know I’ve been called here, and I recognize this now as a place in the spiritual realm, what their vision of The Great Spirit would be.  Speaking to me without speaking, they tell me that they need to work in opening a temporal gate, because some people are trapped behind that barrier.  I nod my understanding, and wait for further instructions.  The men strip their clothing off, leaving only their footwear, loincloths and jewellery on.  The younger one takes up a drum and begins to walk the circle drumming.  The older man lies down on the blanket and motions me to lie down with him.  I do not hesitate, and do so immediately.  He instructs me, again without words, that we must now enter into our Dreamwalker state, and travel across the temporal wall to create the doorway from there.

He holds me tightly, and I am very, very aware of his chiseled hard body spooning next to me, but I turn away from such thoughts and set my intent in concert with his, as we both, entwined more intimately than in sexual bond, let our spirits fly.

The world blurs around me, and although it is still the same, it is somewhat different.  I recognize this as “seeing it from the other side”.  I find a native rattle trimmed with buffalo hair in my hand suddenly, and am jolted with a sense of honour that this confers to me.  I feel humbled and elated, silently thanking the Powers for this blessing, and knowing that I know what to do, begin to beat a counterpoint rhythm to the drumming I still hear as a pulse of my blood.  My Dreamwalker partner is now dancing to the beats, his feet barely stirring the dust.  Our work is separate yet as one… the beats of rattle, drum and dance … our hearts beat as one… as one… one…

… and now we’re back, with about a half-dozen other people around us.  The drumming still continues, as the younger man circles the space and we Dreamwalkers get up off the blanket.  I suddenly feel annoyed, because one of the women with curly blond hair, starts talking non-stop.  The other people appear to be too dazed to say anything, while she keeps chattering as though she never stopped even during her entrapment.  All the people rescued are dressed in 19^th century clothing, and I get a sense that what has happened transversed across all time, and somehow threw it out of balance.  These are mysteries I do not understand, knowing only that we succeeded in our mission.

My elders are now getting dressed again, and I approach them to return the rattle, but they tell me it’s now mine, as thanks for the work I did with them.  Again, I feel deeply humbled and honoured, as I bow my thanks.

We are instructed to stand in a tight group.  The spectacular royal blue sky and burning red sands fade around us, and I drift gently towards wakefulness…  

CONFERENCE AND A ZOO

I’m at some sort of conference, and my friend Adrienne is there.  We need to find a man who is to help us move something.  We can’t find him but another man comes forward to help.  He has a young boy with him, and the boy asks the man, who is obviously his father, about God.  Adrienne and I look at each other and for a while don’t say anything.  He asks again, and this time it’s evident that he is trying to show off his knowledge of the Bible, and says something about God being the Lord.  I ask the boy, “What about the Goddess?”, and he looks at me, totally shocked.  Adrienne and I tell him about the Goddess being the Lady, Her many names, and the boy gets very upset.  He says that Mary is the only Mother of God, and that we are bad people for thinking otherwise.  His father, however, is much more open-minded, and tells his son that he should listen to us.

Another woman overhears us.  She’s intrigued by our conversation and joins us.  She is someone I’ve seen often in my dreams, a middle-aged lady with white hair that’s done up in a bun.  I welcome her into our group and she tells us that she’s an itinerate pastor, to which I respond that I too am ordained by All Season’s Church of Canada and do weddings.  I’m surprised at her next comment that perhaps I can send the overflow of weddings to her.  There’s a sly undertone to her voice, as though now the only reason she’s interested in talking to us is to get something from us.  Adrienne and I leave on a pretense that we’re needed elsewhere.

We are directed through a large group of people into a small car that will take us to another part of the conference.  The car is on automatic pilot and we’re off, weaving through the crowds, until we get to a darkened corridor that is blissfully empty of people, but now two other men are in the car with us.  The car goes through the corridor and suddenly comes out into a large open space that’s set up as a zoo.  There are all sorts of animals there, and they appear as startled as we are.  Out of a pond, a miniature hippo suddenly jumps out at me, splashing us all with water.  I have just enough time to smile and pet it briefly before it bounds off me again, back into its pond.

We are breathless with laughter, as we make our way into the conference space again…

Here’s the back story:  I woke up early this morning – much earlier than I realized, but decided to stay up.  I put on the tea, and only then found out the real time, 5:30 am!  So while the water was boiling up, I laid down on the couch and before I knew it, I was asleep and in the middle of this crazy dream!  When I finally did wake up, it was over 2 hours later, and I’m more fuzzy-headed than I was at the earlier hour!  Nevertheless, I’m grateful for the extra sleep.  Here it is:

I’m moving into a new townhouse.  It feels as though this is the rent controlled place I’ve been recently talking about.  The townhouse is a single story, very nicely laid out, and I immediately get busy arranging the furniture and other unpacking.  With me is Charles, and he’s helping me with the heavy stuff.  I feel very tired all of a sudden, and decide to get to bed.  My new bedroom is all set out with my furniture, and I gratefully fall into a deep sleep…

I wake up with a start to find Charles sitting by my bed, drinking a pop.  I’m a bit startled and disturbed that I could have forgotten his presence the night before.  “Did you stay here the entire night?”  I ask him.  He nods, indicating that he slept on the couch in the living room.  I get up and go into the kitchen, but notice that the space between the kitchen and dining room has been damaged.  The wall has been kicked in and is laying there in a heap of rubble.  On the alert, I carefully go into the dining room and find that the rug there is totally saturated with water, and the contents of the boxes strewn all around.

I’m furious and scared!  “I need to go talk to the superintendent”, I cry out.  Going back into the living room to get Charles, “How could this have happened?  You were right here – did you not hear anything?”  He shakes his head, totally mystified by the turn of events.  I am suddenly aware that there are other people in the house, friendly, all trying to be helpful, but all total strangers to me.

“Ok!”, I say loudly, “You are probably all very friendly and helpful folks, but who the heck are you?”  A buzz of replies drown out each other, but I get a feeling that these are my neighbours whom I haven’t yet met, and who form a very close-knit community here.  Each tries to introduce, respond, explain in a hubbub of voices that make no sense.  “Someone has broken into my home and did damage, and none of you saw anything?” A chorus of voices affirm this, some of them wander off into the dining room to confirm the soggy ruin of the floor.

“I need to see the superintendent about this immediate”, I say again, “And in the meanwhile, all of you go home, get out of here and we’ll all get together later, okay?”  To another chorus of assent, disappointment, and promise, they all leave.  “This is very disturbing that no one saw or heard anything.  That wall was kicked in – it must have been loud.  This bothers me very much.  You, Charles, stay here and guard the place.  I’ll be right back,” I say as everyone finally leaves us alone.

I go outside and head to the townhouse where the superintendent lives and find that the entire landscape somehow changed.  Instead of the neat row of townhouses, I now find an entrance to a large structure, much like a mall.  Inside, I instinctively seem to know where to locate the manager’s office and head off to the left, all the while vaguely aware of the changes morphing from one shape into another. 

The superintendent’s office is not where I think it is.  I ask one of the numerous people around me where to find it, and am told that it’s been relocated to the other side, and point the way there.  The morphing has turned the place into a carnival with all kinds of midway rides around us, so I make my way carefully through all this chaos to the other side of the structure.  Here things are more normal, with rows of mail boxes, and hallways that lead to offices.  I see all this, but before I can get there, I suddenly find myself on an upper level, much like on a Ferris wheel – yes, I’m seated in a small seat and am on a downward plunge; at the bottom of which the seat goes flat and dumps me onto a slide that sprays water over my feet.  I’m burning with new fury, and scream to be let off this crazy ride.  The attendant hears me and hauls me, totally soaked now, off the conveyor belt (now when did *that* happen!). 

Again I ask about the superintendent’s office and am directed toward the mailbox and office area, but when I reach that place finally, things change again, and I find myself walking through what has become a children’s hospital.  It is very crowded and not very clean, with different liquids dripping onto the floor.  The children, some of whom are in wheelchairs, others in beds, still others walking around, all look well-cared for, but I can see the nurses struggling to keep up with everything.  I leave, carefully stepping around the dubious puddles, and finally find myself near the mailboxes…

… only to find that they are now fading out of existence.  My last thought is a wail of frustration that my new place is in ruins and unsafe.  I get an image flash across my sight of Charles still waiting for me in that townhouse, and…

… I slowly swim towards wakefulness…

MISTS AND ROBES

I wish I could remember all the details of this dream, but here is what I have retained:

It is all vague, this group of women I’m with, but eventually I am aware that we are arguing about the colour our new robes should be.  Somehow, bright yellow won out.  This is not my favourite colour, I think to myself, but I don’t contest the decision. 

Time blurs and I now see we’re all dressed in these robes, but I am not comfortable with them.  They’re made from broadcloth and that material is light enough to show the polka-dot and striped underwear some girls are wearing, and know mine shows through just as prominently.  I do like the fact that they’re in two pieces, as the long skirt and tunic.  But this requires that I find an appropriate cord and other accessories.  I have long become aware that I all women are really young maidens, and I am their young laughter and giggling is both amusing and irritating me by turns. 

Cord and accessories – my mind snaps back to these items and I begin my hunt.  My hands reach into the mist that surrounds us and I draw out a beautiful Egyptian headpiece of colourful sweeping feathers on either side of the face.  I recognize it as one I’ve made many, many years ago.  Almost in a trance, I place it on my head, and then again reaching into the mist I bring out my black Crone cord, and wrap it once, twice, three times around my waist, allowing the ends wrapped in Elemental colours to dangle in front of me.  I feel complete.

Something changes, and there’s a sense that the mists surrounding us more thickly.  The girls are clustered around me but we’re not afraid.  When they clear, it’s like we’ve been transported to a time well in the future, a post-apocalyptic feeling is strong, and as the mists clear we see the ruins and survivors, gaunt and ragged, begin to crowd around us. 

I also become aware that someone else, a man, had transported with us, and I feel disturbed by his presence.   The young women around me are not so giggly any more, but full of intent and purpose.  As one, they spread out, their yellow robes now distinctive in a world gone colourless, as they minister to all those around them.  They look like rays of sunshine among the gray.  For a moment longer, I stand there while the man tries to tell me what to do.   Some things don’t ever change, I think to myself, as I do my best to ignore him. 

Then, firmly putting this man out of my mind, I follow my priestesses into the midst of the survivors, doing what we were trained thoroughly to do, simply taking care of others.

Hakate Ritual

It's been a while since I've posted here, but I'm back now!  Here is my latest dream:

I am in an army camp and in a location that is filled with desert dunes.  Within the camp, I belong to a secret circle of women that is led by another strong soldier.  She is not only our leader in circle, but also in the military, and she instructs me to type out something from handwritten notes.  The only typewriter is an old manual machine, and in the fading daylight, I begin my work.

I immediately see that I’m typing out is a ritual, and is about 6 pages long. Although there is no date on it, I suspect that we will be performing this tonight, since it is the night of the Full Moon. As I reach the last page, I find it almost illegible, and am able to make out only certain words – “Hakate, fire, peace” are the only I type but I feel that there should be a lot more there.

Night falls, and slowly we gather in a secret spot behind one of the dunes.  We are not in robes, but are still wearing our tan desert army fatigues.  The entire world turns into a monochromatic alien landscape of deep brown shadows across beige sand.  The sky is black, pierced with a scattering of stars and the huge Full Moon bathing us all in the silver light.

The ritual begins – we have no tools, just our imaginations, but that is more than enough, as the Moon Herself fills our circle with power and fire.  I feel concern about the last page as the ritual draws to a close, but the High Priestess takes the words, “Hakate… fire… peace” and weaves them into the closing chant of increadible beauty and strength, and with it, weaves our energies into One.

We all are still where we began, but now it’s transformed into a surreal and sacred world, Hakate’s realm.

ASSISTING STUDENTS

I am in a university dorm room which is co-ed.  It is occupied by a young man and a woman who are preparing their assignments.  These assignments have something to do with musical composition and history, and just prior to me becoming aware of my dream, I know that I did much to assist them with their work.  I feel very satisfied with my tutoring, and as they walk out, I decide at the last moment to join them.

We walk into a large lecture room where they put their assignments on the desk.  I am mildly surprised to recognize the professor sitting there, although I couldn’t quite remember his name.  The room is quiet as all the students seem to be busy with their work, and the three of us also silently take our seats.  The professor obviously has other ideas and suddenly gets up and begins to play a clarinet, just some arpeggios, mellow and liquid rippling up and down through various keys.  Obviously this is something the students are familiar with, because they all break out in groans and laughter, as though sharing a private joke. 

“Oh, you don’t like my clarinet playing?” the professor asks in mock surprise, and bounces off towards the piano, where he duplicates the rippling arpeggios on that instrument.  “Maybe I should wear a dress while doing this!”  The classroom dissolves into laughter, the joke completed.

And this is where I recognize him.  He appears to be a very gentle person, humble, but totally accomplished in his musicianship.  He is rather heavy-set, tall and black-skinned.  I nod and smile widely, enjoying the way the students are reacting to this display.  I tell the couple I came in with that I know this man, but from a different circle in my life.  “I haven’t seen him for years!  We first met in the SCA”, I say.

The couple laugh with new understanding.  “So his comment about the dress has more meaning than we realize!” responds the woman.  I nod.  “Yes, there his name is Fardou, and he is a middle eastern persona, and he usually wears loose pants and a long tunic over them.  And you should see his turbans!!”  We start laughing again, “And during events, he likes to play a bassoon – beautifully!”  I add. 

We sit there for a moment, savouring the memory of many performances by this amazing man, and then I get up and go towards him, eager to greet him, even though I know that he will have no memory of me…

A STRANGE HOUSE AND EVEN STRANGER MALL

I am in a house (sometimes it feels as though I own it, at others that I’m a guest there), and am entertaining some guests.  I have a partner, but he is always in the background and I do not see him distinctly.  My guests are a family consisting of a man (who also disappears very quickly), his wife who worries about him constantly, and their two children, who eventually blend and become my granddaughter.

The woman is the only one I see distinctly – she is a bit shorter than me, plump, with dark blond hair that puffs out in unruly curls at her shoulders.  She smiles often, but that smile does not reach her eyes, because there’s a deep abiding sadness within her.  She dresses plainly.  At one point while we’re talking in the kitchen, she not only relaxes enough to laugh, but also gets carried away enough to actually lift her shirt and flash me!  We collapse in helpless laughter on the kitchen chairs and it takes us a long time to pull ourselves together.

There is a feeling that her husband has disappeared, and a search begins to find him.  This adds to her worries but she does her best to keep the children calm.  Eventually, we do try to go to bed, but when we go into the bedrooms, we see there are all sorts of pigeons sitting on the window sills.  She tells me that I must get the screens installed, as this will prevent such incursions, and all the while we’re busy shooing the birds outside.  The birds are not alarmed, and almost as though they know what to do, they hop out onto the outside sills and simply continue to roost there as we close the windows.  In the morning, I look out onto the property which is now under water – it had rained during the night and now everything is flooded.  The woman is nowhere to be found, until I go outside and stand on the stairs.  I see that she slept the night on the small porch.  When she sees me, she, in her frustration, gathers up all the linens and just dumps them onto the soggy lawn before storming into the house.

It crosses my mind that it will take a long time to wash everything because I have only a small washer and dryer, and sincerely hope that the grounds will dry out soon so I can string up a clothesline.

Once we get back inside, we suddenly become aware that there is a faint knocking noise coming from somewhere.  The woman suddenly shudders as though finally waking up, and says, “Now where is that knocking coming from?”  We split up and begin to search the property and finally get alerted by the children that they found something.  We rush into the small back room where there is a heavy metal trunk, and yes indeed, the knocking is coming from there!  It is obvious that her husband had somehow got trapped in this trunk and was unable to get himself out!  I leave them to their reunion while I go into the kitchen to make breakfast.

Abby greets me there, and we begin chatting.  She is a bit older now, and I find it difficult to connect with her.  She’s aloof, a typical teenager, and is talking about the latest fashions she’s interested in, and her favourite mall.  Instantly, the house fades and I find myself in that mall.  It’s a small one, but filled with expensive boutiques and exclusive stores.  I walk around and wonder how I can afford to buy a pair of socks here, let alone a dress, or how my granddaughter can shop here. 

Suddenly, I hear a joyous shout from around the corner, followed by boisterous singing.  I follow the sound and come into what appears as a medieval kitchen and dining hall.  A lot of people walk out laughing and talking, reliving their experience.  And obviously, I now see it’s a theme dinner theatre, like Medieval Times.  The kitchen staff is all dressed in white and red uniforms, and some are doing a circle dance.  What surprises me is seeing very young children employed there, children who are no more than four or five years old.  Their chef style hats are way too large on them, but that doesn’t stop them from expertly integrating in the choreographed dance which normally happens in a large kitchen.  A couple of them stop to look at me with large eyes and solemn faces before running off to haul pots as large as themselves over to the tables...

BRAINWASHING AND SAFE HAVEN

I am living In a house with my son (a much earlier version of him).  There are also a number of house-mates that share the house with me (here I have a vague feeling of some old-guard Scadians and fandom folk).  Behind the house is a beautiful ravine which gives us a beautiful view.

My son and I are in the basement and working on a virtual puzzle.  It’s coming out to be a car of some sort but then I notice that along the back, where the trunk normally is, appears bright arrangement of tubes.  As piece by piece is set, this arrangement takes on a more ominous appearance, and finally, just before the final two pieces are put in, I become alarmed.  The twisted pipes, bending into each other are so vibrant as to appear holographic, just waiting to burst through the screen.  There is something so frightening about them that I tell my son to go and get one of the housemates. 

Before he can do this, they all come down, somewhat alarmed themselves.  They tell me that something is happening out on the streets and we need to escape.  They now show me a door that will take us into the lower regions of the ravine, and we all begin our escape, going along the narrow path.  The trees tower above us, and while we’re running, I tell them about this frightening puzzle we were just working on.  Someone tells me it’s a control device that is appearing all over the city.  By now we approach a small lookout point, and my heart sinks – waiting for us is a woman in a black and gray uniform.  She’s an older woman with very short gray hair and pale eyes, but these eyes are hard and unyielding.  She carries a smaller version of that contraption, and it’s almost pulsing with its own life. 

We all turn and begin to run through the trees, or rather the roots of the trees, because now the trees have become totally gigantic.  Of course, we don’t get far, because now others in the uniform are surrounding us and we are brought up to the lookout point.

It is then I notice that my son and another man from our group are not with us.  I feel overwhelming relief in thinking that they may have escaped.  We are marched off into the city core and are joined by many more people from across the city.  Somehow I manage to slip away from them all and make my way back to the lookout point without being “converted” (that is the new buzz-word for our brain-washing).  I sit on the wooden rail, and it’s not long before I’m joined by my son and the young man who took care of him.  He appears normal, but I can tell that something isn’t quite right and confront him.  He appears confused for a few moments as though he has just remembered his former life, which indeed he had, because he says that the conversion process is very painless and not much changes afterwards, except that he sees things “differently”, but can’t tell me in what way.  My son, to my immense relief, appears untouched.  I take him by the hand and slowly back away, while my friend continues to sit there trying to figure things out.  I feel very grateful that he saved my son, and deeply sorry that I must leave my friend. 

As we make our way to the city, to the now empty streets, I see a pretty scarf in an abandoned basket on a stone fence.  Some instinct moves me to pick up the scarf and drape it over my face like a veil.  Somehow I know my son is safe, and now I feel safe also, as though this thin silk  has put a barrier  between me and the world.  It’s a bit disconcerting seeing through the water-coloured splotches of lilac and pale green, but I soon get used to it.

Eventually, we get on the bus, and sit beside a thin elderly woman who has two hedgehogs in her basket.  She’s smiling and petting them as though they are her children, and my son, totally intrigued, tries to pet them too.  They start squealing and bristling at this and the woman seems to wake up and notice us for the first time. Even though she appears confused, it is a moment of clarity for her as well, and she says in apologetic tones, that the animals will only tolerate her touch.  Then, just as quickly, she fades back into her stupor.

We get off at the next stop, close to the house we used to live in so happily, and approach it along the empty streets.  I wonder where all the people have gone, but then remind myself that I really do not want to know.  Empty though the streets may be, I see that the garbage and recycling bins have all been set out, so someone is still here to take care of such small mundane tasks.  One bin catches my attention – something glittery, something shiny.  I look through it and find a beautiful little girl’s dress made out of the bright fabrics.  In the bin are neatly folded bolts of fabrics, and I think what a shame it is that all this is now considered unnecessary, how soon all beauty will fade from the world.  Suddenly emboldened by this thought, I begin to gather up the bolts, determined to at least save this much.

As though it is a signal, I am joined by other women, who are chattering brightly and congratulating me, as though I had just passed some test.  We all return to a house, where we begin talking about creating some costumes.  My son rolls his eyes as though to say, “Here we go again!” and settles himself on the couch beside me.  None of the women make any mention of my veil as they talk, and I am silent.  Silent, that is, until someone asks if any of us have ever seen “History Bites”.  Timidly, because I still don’t know whether to speak or not, I tell them that for a season I actually worked on it. 

One of the women then comes over and gently pulls off my veil.  The world is suddenly so bright I have to close my eyes for a moment.  I can feel the tension beyond the house.  We all know what is going on out there, how the people are being brainwashed and controlled by forces unknown, but here, with these women, my son and I are safe.

The woman is still looking at me when I open my eyes, and smiling warmly says, “We’ve been waiting for you…”  These simple words speak more than of my sewing skills.  There are volumes of meanings there, but while I’ll have to figure them out later, I know at this moment we are safe.

FEEDING A TIGER (Nap Dream)

I am in a different apartment, one that is on the ground floor of a beautiful white stone house.  The apartment occupies two levels, with the lower one being in the basement.  My son, who is much younger, is living with me.  The basement level is bright with the white stone, but that is where a menagerie is kept:  a snake, some lizards, a couple of s and a large tiger.  Even though I have been around him for a long time, he still makes me nervous, because he, like the kittens, is not confined to a cage but roams freely.

Some time passes, and I realize something disturbing:  I cannot find the kittens anywhere.  Another day – and I suddenly remember that I have totally forgotten to feed the animals!  Frantically, I begin to hunt for my purse, and once I find it , I head for the door, just as my son is walking in, and the tiger is coming up the stairs.  I quickly push my son back out the door which I lock after myself. 

Then I change my mind.  I give the wallet to my son and tell him to buy a large – and I do mean large – bag of dry cat food at the corner store and bring it back as quickly as possible.  Then I go back inside.  The tiger is lying on the floor in front of the couch, where I go to sit.  I tell him food is coming, and actually reach down to pet his head.  A rumble starts deep within him as he leans into my hand…

1920s MYSTERY

I find myself in a large mansion that is full of people, who are gathered for a dinner party.  The crystals from the chandeliers and the glassware sparkle in the lights.  Everyone is dressed up in formal attire, formal but very old-fashioned – I recognize the styles of the 1920’s.  Of course, there are many others who are attired in the uniforms of maids and servants.  They provide the somber black and white contrast to the bright colours worn by others.

One woman seeks me out.  She’s dressed in a blue gown that sets off her blond hair, and I recognize her as the hostess and lady of this house.  She comes up to me and I see she’s angry, very angry.  She tells me I must leave, that I do not belong here.  “You will not be taking this away from me!”, she announces forcefully.  I am at a loss for words, because I do not understand what she’s talking about.  In fact, I am now puzzled and confused as to what I’m doing here.  I back away from her and go into a darkened, empty hallway to get my bearings.

Now I begin to notice other things – for all the glitter and sparkle, the building is rather shabby and in ill repair.  I am dressed in modern clothing, and … and floating two feet off the ground!!

Everything blurs, as though its fast forwarded, it’s now daylight and I find the woman, wearing another blue dress, sitting outside drinking tea.  I approach her, still floating not walking, and again, she becomes angry at the sight of me.  I try and tell her that I’m not a threat to her and her inheritance and that I’m more than willing to “abdicate” my place here.  For some reason, that makes her even angrier.  I float away from her, but find that I’m unable to leave the property – that something is binding me to this place.  It becomes very confusing, because at the same time that I’m seeing this, I am also experiencing all the memories of my “real” life, as though I somehow got transplanted into a by-gone era.  

I know that I must find some way to convince this woman that I’m not out the threat she thinks I am, because that is the only way I’ll find my way back home.

AMONG THE GEARS AND WHEELS

I am in front of a subway entrance.  People are going up and down the stairs when I notice one man, who also appears to be looking at me.  He looks strange – his skin and clothes,  worker’s coveralls,  are the same shade of brown, what hair escapes from beneath his hat is also brown and wavy.   He approaches me and asks if I would like to join him on an interesting journey.

There is no hesitation in me.  I agree immediately, and together we go down the stairs to the subway platform.  He leads me through the throng of people who are waiting for the next train, and straight off the platform into the darkness of the tunnel.   We are now walking in single file along a narrow ledge until he reaches a specific door, which he opens and waves me through.

Here I begin to lose sense of perspective, and this hits me hard as he opens yet another door after our short walk along a dimly-lit corridor.  The world that opens up before me is one of gears and wheels, moving smoothly within one another.  I lose perspective – have we shrunk to a tiny size and are within the mechanism of a wind-up clock? Or is everything really this gigantic!?  I stare open-mouthed at this extraordinary scene and wonder what all this runs.  My companion grins at my amazement, and points up.  It’s then that I notice that all the wheels and gears are full of people, dressed even as he is!  They balance and swing from one level to another without any fear or concern, and they’re all busy working, cleaning, shining  and oiling to make sure everything runs smoothly.

Grinning, my companion holds out his hand to me, and leads me by a convoluted way ever upwards.  I now see that there are little roads that are purposely set out among all the moving machinery, and in between these cogs, wheels and gears are full of living spaces inhabited by the people – neat, small, shaped in odd ways to fit the space, but fully adapted with all conveniences of living.  All these tend to be on the lower levels of this incredible world.  As we climb higher, we begin to meet more people busy with their tasks.

We stop for a moment at one level, and I watch another man do something that seems to be particularly hazardous – he is concentrating on putting certain decals onto a wheel that seems just out of reach.  He stretches himself while holding on just by his fingertips to a smooth metallic ridge, as he neatly and quickly slaps on the dark brown circles onto the moving edge of the wheel.  I suddenly understand that this is done only for bragging rights, it is a sport these people practice. 

I feel somewhat overwhelmed and ask my companion to take me back to my world, which he does without question.  For a few seconds, as I stand on the subway platform, my world seems very alien.  He stands with me until I get my balance again and then, with a warm hug and smile, he melts back into the tunnel darkness.

PARTY, PARTY, PARTY!!

I am working in an office in downtown Hamilton, right across from Gore Park.  The atmosphere is more of a boisterous get-together rather than professional.  As we’re all talking and joking, one of the women says that she’s supposed to leave now to go to her new second job.  We all wish her well as she bounces out,  and a few minutes later we see her across the street on the other side of the park.  She has a cart filled with cans of paint, brushes, rollers, and other items needed to do painting jobs. 

I now notice she’s standing in front of three identical rounded doors.  They’re all painted black.  Before she starts painting them,  I join her, and we select a lovely vibrant red colour.  I pick up a brush too and together  we begin to paint “the town red”!  We are then joined by another member of the office team, a young man, who keeps us entertained as he practices his sales pitch on us – a very dramatic and Shakespearean performance indeed!

Time to go home - which is the last apartment I lived in – and I’m surprised to see the wooden stairs leading up to the kitchen filled with people, filker friends!  I recognize Howard, Sally, Jane, Wayne and Heather, among others.  Surprised and a bit disturbed at this unexpected onslaught, I quickly try and think of what’s in my fridge and freezer, and how I can possibly feed them all.  No one seems to be too concerned, telling me they all brought plenty for everyone.  I notice that they also brought all their instruments and soon the living room is filled with drums, guitars, flutes, lap harps, music stands and bodies.  Singing starts as I go into the kitchen and begin to prepare sandwiches. 

Suddenly tired, I actually leave all this and take a short nap – which turns out to be longer than expected.  Howard wakes me up and I express shock and dismay to see even more people arriving.  I’m also shocked that I had slept for so long!  He assures me that all is well, I don’t need to worry about feeding everyone because now they’ve ordered in.  As I walk among all the people, in a much enlarged living room that now spills out onto a huge patio, I sustain a new shock.  Below me, on yet another patio that’s attached to the house, is another party going on.  Here I recognize Helene, Annie and Suzanne, who are celebrating some Jewish observance with a joyous dinner.  I go to greet and hug them, expressing my delight at seeing them all again. 

Is it any surprise that now  a group of Scadians appear, adding to an ever increasing blur of people, tables, food, laughter and song?  Though it all, I get a glimpse that dark-haired girl still wielding her paint brush, as she puts the last finishing touches on the three doors that stand now, bright and bold red against the darkening of the evening.

I laugh and throwing all cares to the wind, I walk around, finding all my friends of the past to reconnect with and enjoy the Party of all Parties!  

Nap Dream of Squirrels and Guns and Roses

So, I laid down for a nap, and was instantly transported into a dream:

I am in my apartment waking up from a nap.  My son is there and I keep asking him whether the squirrel managed to get in.  That's because I was distinctly remembering just before taking the nap, a squirrel was trying to get into the apartment through the patio door.  He checks all around and tells me that the door had been closed all along, so no, the animal did not get in.

At that moment, someone knocks on the door and he goes to answer it.  I'm still slowly getting my bearings and sitting on the couch, but get up quickly as Juliana Ellement comes in with a beautiful little girl - classic blue eyes and curly blond hair under a woolen hat.  She's wearing a red winter coat.  Somehow there's a feeling of very old-world charm about her, as though she just stepped out of a 1945 movie.  The little girl is carrying a home made birthday card for me, and says, "Hello, Grandma, see what I made for you?"

We fall to talking and she also shows me a child's toy from that era - a plastic six-shooter and a pair of handcuffs.  Somehow that too triggers a memory in me of a dream (within a dream) - just an image of a single red rose laid against a silver gun.

"I just dreamed about that", I say to my son and Julie, "But it was more a 'gun and rose' type of scenario.  Yeah, guns and roses!  And we all laugh, because that was one of my son's favourite bands way back when...

FEEDING A DEER

 

I am with a man who is a blend of my father (as a much younger man and my brother.  We are on a road trip in his car and drive into a heavily wooded area.  After some time hiking and just enjoying the day, we make our way home.  Once we get there, I’m surprised to find that we have a small deer in the trunk.  The man tells me it’s injured and we need to keep it for a couple of days.

This disturbes me because I know the best thing to do is to take the deer back out into the woods, or at least take him to the vet, but I'm too caught up in the moment and help bring the injured animal in.  He is very compliant and gentle,  and looking closely, I can see the fawn spots have just started to disappear.  We bring him into my bedroom and the beautiful animal immediately settles down by my bed. 

I sense that a couple of days pass without incident and I’m again in the car with the man.  As we’re driving away, I suddenly remember that I neglected to put out food for the deer.  I’m panicking and even at the risk of being late to my appointment, I know that we must turn back and take care of this.  Without a word, he turns around and heads back to the house.  I race up the stairs and into my room.  The deer has moved under my bed by now, and I’m relieved to see that he appears all right, but the water dish is completely empty.  I fill it up, make sure that there are a variety of grasses and biscuits (!) there. 

I now finally have the courage to reach out my hand and touch the velvety soft nose.  He sniffs my hand and melts into it, obviously enjoying the affection.  Suddenly making up my mind, I call for the man and tell him it’s wrong for us to keep this animal like this, and he must be set free.  I turn to the deer and, addressing him directly, I tell him as much as we love him, we must release him.  Looking into his large liquid dark eyes, I see that he understands and struggles to get up.

Once again in the car,  things shift.  The incident with the deer is now in memory, and I (suddenly I’m alone and driving the car)  am heading to visit my son in Toronto.  I arrive at a large house in the university district and see that he’s living in a student house. 

And here the memory of my adventures there have evaporated – darn!!

The Futuristic Apartments

I am in a new apartment building.  It’s huge, almost like a small town on its own, and the apartments within it are very large, open concept units.  Very clean and almost Oriental in their simplicity, the apartments also offer suitable comfortable furniture.  There is a sense that all conveniences such as shopping, entertainment and medical facilities are on site, as well.

I come home one day and am surprised to find someone in my apartment.  It’s someone I have known many years ago, and had an emotional attachment to.  I never expected to see him again, and I’m not sure how to react to his presence.  Sad to say, I’m taken in by his double-talk again and reluctantly let him stay – just for a few days.  I’m also vaguely surprised that he’s still wearing his one suit that he had back then. 

It doesn’t take long, a matter of a few days, before he confesses that he’s run up a huge bill on my phone and that he’ll not be able to pay it.  My instant reaction is to be very upset, and as he walks away, I suddenly realize that he’s lied to me again.  I catch up with him and inform him that it’s impossible for him to do that because I have an unlimited long-distance plan on my phone, and demand to know exactly where he’s going to leave me in the hole.  He plays the wounded victim wrongly accused, but I would have none of it, and tell him to leave immediately.  He disappears.

In the hallway I encounter a medical team who is rushing an Oriental woman to medical care.  A young boy, obviously her son, is sitting on the gurney and crying.  I instantly recognize him and his mother.  It’s Hoojung, someone I used to work with at the Hamilton Folk Arts Heritage Centre.  I rush over to her, but she’s barely coherent.  She appears to be totally disconsolate, weeping madly and unable to acknowledge my presence.  I don’t hold up the team any longer.

Going back to the apartment, I pass another apartment that has its door open.  It’s occupied by a very handsome man and beautiful woman, and they ask me to join them.  It’s obvious that some erotic games are played there and on a spur of the moment, I decide to do just that.  I also sense that there’s been a shift in the reality of the dream, and that my apartment is no longer there, effectively leaving me homeless.  I’m not distressed by this, but am determined to find another apartment in the morning.  We lie down in bed for the night, with the man in the middle and the women on either side of him.  It’s then that I notice that the apartment has changed again, becoming more like a storage unit, with the bed facing the wide open door.  Also, the lights are still on, and I jump out of bed to turn them off.  I become a bit confused looking for the light switch, at which point three other women enter the apartment and begin to make themselves at home there.  They all take off their clothes and settle down on the deep carpet which is now sporting a variety of cushions and decorative coverlets.  For some reason, one  climbs up on the bed to adjust something above it, and I cannot resist – I smartly smack her butt a couple of times.  Her eyes go wide with mock surprise and everyone else giggles. 

It’s obvious, though, that it’s only a place to sleep this night, so we again all settle down and do just that.

PAGAN APARTMENTS

I had a very poor night.  Insomnia hit me hard again and I struggled to grab what little sleep I did.  And finally, after getting up at 6:00, I lay down on the couch to wait until the kettle boiled.  Naturally, now that I wasn't trying, I fell asleep and straight into a dream:

I have just moved in an apartment building that has a large community room.  I think how wonderful it will be to hold Red Tent meetings there, and arrange with a super to do just that.  I tell her that the next one planned will have my friend, Juliana, as the guest speaker and she’ll be doing a workshop on bead crafting.  The super puts me on the schedule and tells me that she too may attend.

After being away for a while (it feels as though I’m working in an office again), I come back home and am afraid that I am too late.  I go by the community room and see that it is occupied but not by the women I expected.  At first I see only one young woman, Brandi, who is doing some sort of acrobatic dancing to the beat of drums.  She twists and turns, drops to the floor and rolls, springing back up by way of a backflip with amazing agility, her dark hair flying wildly as she flips and spins. 

Around this dance, the other people, who were in shadows, emerge.  There is a middle-aged couple, a robust man dressed in a Viking outfit, and a woman who in contrast is very tall and thin.  She’s wearing a turquoise-blue robe, and her long silver hair is done up in a tall pony-tail.  They seem to be the leaders.  There are about a dozen more people, all dressed in various robes and garb, all chanting something deep and resonant.  I long to join them but know I cannot break the Circle, so I back out into the hallway, which is also full of people dressed in robes and garb.  I ask one man, garbed in skins and leathers, and decorated with runes along his forehead, what is happening.  He responds that the two leaders are the embodiment of Deities and the ritual they’re performing is one of Deep Healing. He then informs me that this ritual will be done again in about an hour.

I need to be there, and quickly go up the stairs to my apartment to get changed into my robe.  Along the way, I see the stairs cluttered with all sorts of accessories – belts, pouches, daggers, circlets – as folks, who are also sitting along the steps, are getting ready.  I smile as one man turns to thank me as I hand him his pouch and belt.  I turn to walk down the hallway to my apartment and stop in amazement – each doorway is decorated with wreathes and vines of fresh yellow flowers, and before each door stands a brand new besom, a crystal bowl with a candle and an athame.  These arrangements are that much more vibrant because the electric lights are turned off.  As I slowly make my way to my apartment, I feel as though the entire building has been turned into a temple. 

Inside I’m facing yet another shock – my ex-husband is sitting in the living room.  He’s very tense and upset, wondering what took me so long.  He then demands that I pack my things and move out immediately and can’t seem to understand my reluctance.  I tell him this is where I belong and he can leave anytime he wants, while I go and change into my robes, choosing the green lace one.  As I slip on my emerald circlet, I tell him that I need to attend this ritual, that my soul is crying out for it.  Inside, I’m puzzled over two things – why he’s there in the first place, and where did the green robes come from?

Back out in the stunning hallway, all decorated with Ostara symbols, I make my way to the community hall again.  Making a mental note to contact Juliana and reschedule with her, I take my place in the procession that now winds through the building…

SCI-FI ADVENTURE

Last night’s dream was a science fiction/horror epic!  I hope I can capture it here:

I’m camping in a cabin – the grounds look very much like Mansfield Camping Site, where WiccanFest is held.  There is a young man who is camping next to me and we become friends.  More than friends, actually, there seems to be a huge connection between us, but nothing romantic.  We spend a lot of time talking, exploring metaphysical mysteries, and in this way discover that something very bad is happening.  Whatever this “bad” is still remains to be seen, but we’re both getting visions of a man and a woman.

From the outside, they look like a normal couple, but the more we examine these visions, the more we see beyond the “normal”, since they now exhibit bright blue spiky hair and glowing eyes.  They’re always together arm in arm and they’re always laughing – but nothing they say is really funny.  In fact it’s very hurtful.

Suddenly, I look up and see a huge moose coming towards us. There’s something about it that reminds me of the Man/Woman duo.  We get up and back away, and now see another moose coming to join the first.  Before it can get to us, however, another man, a fellow-camper, runs up to it and stabs it deeply in the left eye with a sharp stick.  It’s horrible to watch it writhe in agony, but we’re happy to see it die.  The first animal also starts to react with bucking and bellowing, until both of them lie still.  Someone in the background announces that there will be moose steaks for supper this night, but we all nix the idea, saying that we don’t know how deeply this bad energy runs through the animals.  We decide to cremate them instead.

While the fire roars skyward, my companion and I suddenly see something behind the flames, and go to investigate.  It’s like a portal, and on the other side we see a  dark urban landscape.  We step through this portal and find ourselves on an empty street.  Above us are tall skyscrapers as far as the eye can see.  As we walk towards a dimly lit intersection, we see the Man and Woman coming towards us.  They’re laughing and joking, still arm in arm, and I suddenly recognize the influence that brought them to life – they look very much like a couple of characters from the upcoming movie, “The Hunger Games”.  But there really is nothing funny about them; they’re more like caricatures, or malevolent spirits that have taken on human forms.  I name them, “The Mad Couple”.

My companion and I run the other way.  The streets have no one else on them, and although we run, The Mad Couple behind us are strolling leisurely, but are always the same distance away from us.  We cannot outrun them.  As we turn another corner, we see yet another portal and jump right through it.  Immediately, we are immersed in a raging blizzard of ice and snow.  We find ourselves standing on a subway or train platform that is packed full of people.  It is so crowded that we can barely move.  I feel the platform shift beneath us, and we all are pitched forward.  It’s obvious that it broke from the weight of all the people and the ice that has piled up on us all. 

Slipping and sliding to the empty platform facing us, my companion and I finally make it to relative safety.  We do not see the Mad Couple any more, but know they will eventually find us.  As we scramble through the treacherous blizzard and footing, we find a covered tunnel, and as soon as we enter it, we emerge back at the camp grounds.

The carcasses are burned to ash, and it is now night time.  A few people see us emerge out of nowhere, and although they are startled, they listen to our story with open minds, and then run to gather everyone together again.  Another fire is built and we begin to sing “We All Come from the Goddess” as we join hands. 

Sure enough, The Mad Couple emerges not too long afterwards, but their smiles become frozen as they encounter a large body of people all singing Goddess Praise.  The way behind them closes and they become trapped.  Softly, someone begins to laugh, and we all take up that joyful sound, until everyone around the fire is laughing, hugging, loving, and totally ignoring the strangers, who now just diminish and fade into nothingness.

  

DISARMING BOMBS AND READING TO CHILDREN

Just a few images from last night. 

Most of the dreams involved me being with a group of men and we’re trying to disarm bombs that are all around us.  Everything is dark and gloomy, and we’re dressed in heavy Kevlar vests and face visors.  As we make our way systematically undoing this damage, we come across what appears to be a resort.  There are people lounging around in the midst of upturned earth and rocks, with very inadequate housing.  I walk into a room occupied by children of all ages.  I am struck by their apathy, they don’t seem interested in anything, although this room is filled with all sorts of colourful books and toys.

I decide that it’s time for me to relax for a bit, and as I sit down, I say, “I would very much like to be your grandmother for a little while.  Would you accept me as your grandmother?”  The little ones, 3-5 year olds stir and quickly walk over to me.  The older ones also sit up.  I reach for a book and prepare to read from it. 

Inside, I’m weeping, and hope that through the story, I’ll be able to bring a sense of wonder, hope and magick to their colourless lives. 

School for Girls, Sewing Pouches, Dodging Bulldozers

I'm having a difficult time sorting through the dreams I had last night.  I think it will be easier to just list them  as three separate dreams, since at this point I'm not sure if they were all related or not.  Here we go:

Dream 1 - School for Girls

I am a teacher in a school for girls.  The school is a beautiful campus that feels very Mediterranian - cool stone walls, archways that are overgrown with vines, short series of steps that takes one into shady gardens as well as into the cool interior rooms.  There are terraces from which the ocean can be seen in a distance as a blue and silver ribbon.

It is at such a terrace that I'm sitting with other teachers, and we are discussing an arts project that the girls have been working on.  I am very impressed with many of the submissions, which include three-dimensional pop-ups and use of many different media.  Suddenly, one teacher screams and throws down a piece.  She is shocked beyond words!  She is aghast and mortified!  One of the students dared to use the word "uterus" in her work!!  Such language is totally unacceptable, she states, fanning herself indignantly.  The rest of us look at each other and begin to laugh.  Soon some of the girls join us, including a lovely olive-skinned one with long black hair, who is the "offending" one.  After some self-conscious giggling, a chant begins, "Uterus!  Uterus!"  Before long, we form a bunny-hop line and begin to dance all around the terrace, and around the single teacher, who continues to be deeply offended and embarrassed by our bold display.

Dream 2 - Sewing Pouches

I am sitting by a sewing machine and am given a quantity of white muslin fabric scraps, and asked to make as many small draw-string pouches as I can.  I begin my work, but am concerned that the fabric isn't strong enough to hold anything securely.  It is transparent,  beautifully soft, and flows through my fingers like sensually.  I decide that it's not my place to question this, only to make what I've been asked.

The work progresses well, and soon I have a stack of pouches of various sizes made, and begin to thread the draw-strings through the casings.  At this stage I am joined by my friend, Charles, who tells me that he's heard these pouches will be used to hold some special corn.  He takes me to another room where I see sacks of the golden grain.  What surprises me the most is that some of it is wrapped in bubble-wrap.  Charles shows me some markings on the bubble-wrap, and states that this indicates this corn contains a special "code", and is very precious.  I get the impression of some kind of genetic code that is designed to be of great benefit to humanity.

Dream 3 - Dodging Bulldozers

Charles and I are now walking along an empty road that soon leads into a heavy construction zone.  Both sides of the street are lined with huge bulldozers.  There are no houses anywhere, only vague impression of wilderness beyond this.  We also become aware that there are no people around - at least at first.  About half-way through the construction zone, I am startled suddenly to see the huge tractor move, blocking my way.  A man driving it yells at me to be careful, and I know that he's just as startled to see me as I am to be in this situation.  Charles stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders, ready to move me out of the way instantly.

As we stand there, we see each machine, bulldozer and truck, neatly parked, shut down.  The operators of these vehicles get out and form an escort line through which Charles and I pass safely.

Shape-shifting Toy, Transfusion, and Exorcism

Through the night, it was a mish-mash of images, and I'm only able to isolate a couple of them clearly:

I feel I'm in the midst of some sort of party.  There is definite feeling of celebration, and it also has an old-world feel to it.  Some women are wearing old-fashioned kerchiefs around their heads and tend to congregate together while the men do the same.  But it's all very happy and noisy, with lots of food being passed around.

I leave the party and head to another part of the house - I'm not quite sure if it's to the basement or out to the patio - to spend time with the children.  There are lots of toys around, suitable for all ages, but one catches my eye in particular.  It's a beautifully crafted doll-house, about three floors high, made of wood and lovingly painted.  Beside it is a wooden car - and now I see that although it's wood, painted in medium Wedgwood blue, it doesn't keep its shape.  This block of wood keeps morphing into different shaped vehicles, and when I try to touch it my hand passes right through it, although I can still feel some substance to it.  It's almost as though it's trying to make up its mind as to what shape it likes best!  I watch this for a few minutes, realizing I'm seeing something brand new and wonderful here.

There is a sense that time has passed and I am in some sort of medical facility.  I am one of three people who are going through a procedure involving a series of tubes being attached to the right shoulder and from there to the left hip. Somehow it's meant to take the blood from one place and recycle it into another.  The tubes are very small, about half the size of normal IV tubes.  The nurse is having trouble with my shoulder tube, as she tries to get the connection firm.  She finally succeeds, and I watch as the clear interior becomes filled with rich ruby-red blood.  I feel no pain at all, and in fact, am told that I can stroll around and not be confined to the bed.  I walk into a small room where I have a friend waiting, and as we talk, she suddenly points to a fountain of blood shooting from my shoulder, soaking the fiber acoustic ceiling tiles.  I feel totally annoyed with the incompetence of the nurse, clamp down on the end of the tube, and go looking for someone who can do the job properly.

Coming through a blur of other images, I now find myself in a Catholic church.  Some kind of ceremony is about to take place and I am led to the front of the altar.  There are priests dressed in traditional robes of green and gold, and I am particularly struck by one of them - he's a short man, bald and wearing glasses.  He conveys a feeling of mild serenity and composure, but there's just *something* about him that warrants my attention.  He smiles at me, and I ask him what his function is here.  He tells me that he's an exorcist and he's been called in to deal with a particularly difficult case of possession.

I suddenly wonder what I'm doing here - I'm so outside my comfort zone! At that moment the ceremony begins, and I find myself drawn into the entire ritual, since there are so many elements are familiar to me.  I do not see the possessed person, but get an impression it's a young man. I have my hand on the shoulder in front of me, her hand is on the person ahead of her, and two other people complete this line.  Someone to my right actually takes pictures of this, but I'm barely aware of this as I concentrate on the line of healing energy that is being conveyed through us.  Whoever is taking the pictures suddenly exclaims, "It's actually visible!", and shows us the picture:  It shows a line of five people, hand on the shoulder of the person ahead of each, and we are all engulfed in a silvery light that streams to the exorcist-priest who then is channeling it the "patient".

An Unexpected Wedding, Catching a Fish, Finding the Door

There were two distinct dreams last night.

Dream 1:

I am in a small chapel and am ready to perform a wedding.  The couple walks in and I am totally amazed to recognize a couple of my friends, Raven and Richard, and right behind them, another friend Chris.  Raven is dressed in a simple white gown and has a crown of flowers on her head.  I'm confused as to who's actually getting married here, and it's established that it's Raven and Chris.  He is dressed in an SCA style tunic and pants, and also has a crown made of leaves, acorns and wheat stalks on his head.  Richard is acting as a witness.

I ask them for their license and there's a moment of confusion until it's located.  Then the process is repeated when I ask for the rings, and finally, I ask them what kind of ceremony they want, and am actually surprised when the response is "civil", because with the way they are dressed and knowing them, I would have thought that they would have said, "Pagan Handfasting".  I ask them to wait while I get everything ready.

All the while I am still shaking my head at this coincidence and am kind of annoyed that they had not let me know earlier.  It takes me less than a minute to set out the registry table, and we're all set to go.

Dream 2:

I am in a church - I get a distinct impression that it's a Catholic church.  It's very modern and bright, and there is some sort of event happening there in the community hall.  There are a lot of people milling about and the tables are all set out with refreshments.

I wander down a less-crowded hallway into another room and am surprised to see my son - but at a much younger age, he appears to be around 8 years old - running around an empty room.  It's empty, but there is furniture around close to the walls.  On the small bookshelf is a large glass bowl with a goldfish swimming around in it.  Just as I walk in we're both startled to see each other an he bumps into the bookshelf, and the bowl goes flying to the floor, breaks and the water spills.  The fish is flopping on the floor while I yell for him to get me another bowl, which somehow materializes on the table.  I catch the fish, which is considerably larger than I realized, and as quickly as we can fill the bowl with water and I release it.  I'm worried that perhaps the water straight from the tap would hurt it, but I can actually see and feel that the distress is passing from this creature as it begins to placidly swim around.

I take my son out and as is the ways of dreams, he blends in with the crowd and I continue to try and find out what it is I'm doing in this Church.  Wandering around, I see some posters on the walls advertising some musical and theatrical productions, and mention that I used to do such graphic design work.  My words are heard by a beautiful black woman, who runs off to tell someone else.  She comes back and tells me that there may be a place for me here, designing publications and posters.  I feel very happy with that and we agree to meet further on this.

Now I want to leave the building, but realize I cannot find a door that leads outside.  Eventually, I see the doors, but they're in a lobby that's not accessible from where I was standing.  The lobby is below me by some four feet.  I see a reception desk there with an older woman staffing it.  I quickly make the decision that wandering around would not serve my needs any more.  Coming to the edge of that wall, I simply jump down, and march out the door.

Outside it's a beautiful day.  The late afternoon sun plays its gold light on the lush green grass and leaves. There are many people wandering out there too, and there is evidence of many picnic spots being enjoyed.  I take a deep breath of freedom, suddenly feeling as though I have somehow escaped confinement.

Various and Sundry ...

Last night was full of dreams and all I can remember is a couple of images - someone suddenly sitting on my chest and suffocating me - and just as quickly recognizing this and getting up; being atop of a mountain with my arms open wide to joyously  feel the icy blast; looking through papers I need to edit.  All these images are without context.

The final image is a bit more cohesive - I'm in a large living room.  It feels old-fashioned, like something out of the 1950's.  There is a large window to the right and is covered with bright orange drapes.  There are other people in the room.   Everyone is dressed in clothing of that era, the women in elegant print full-skirted dresses and the men in suits.  We are all excited because a special ceremony is about to commence.  I hear someone say that there is even a piper to pipe in the procession.

And then it begins - the piper comes in in a slow, stately manner.  He is dressed in a tartan that is predominantly yellow and black.  The wail of the bagpipes fills the room.  Behind him were some people carrying a large tinsel sign which they quickly fasten to the orange drapes - "Congratulations!", the sign said, the glittery gold blending into the orange background.

And finally, the people who are honoured march in, about a half-dozen young men and women in graduation gowns.  Everyone cheers and applauds.  The celebration now begins in earnest.

The Guidance System

There is huge excitement and disruption in the lives of people all over the globe - discovery has been made as to how to travel great distances in space in relatively short periods of time.  I am on the team that is to go off-world soon, and am busy, along with my team mates, preparing myself for this historic journey.  Our destination is a far-off planet on the opposite side of the galaxy.

Something happens, and I am suddenly told that I am not going to go any more.  I feel shock, rage, and huge disappointment.  My face is streaked with tears and my heart is breaking.  The officials try to console me, telling me my contribution, both up until this point and what I will do, is invaluable, but these are just empty words to me.

I pull myself together when one of the officials sternly reminds me that I am still on the clock.  My professional face in place again, they now tell me they have something to show me, and take me through a very crowded hall.  There are people from all nations there, excited to be able to see such incredible launch of a ship that will be first to traverse the galaxy.  I feel irritated by the happy chatter, knowing how much has gone into this project, and how much is at stake.  "They're all like children", I think to myself, "not understanding anything but the outer shell of bling."

The room I'm ushered in has a huge window looking out into the night sky.  Here, all is quiet, even though it's full of scientists and technicians working on the last minute preparations.  I am led to a small platform, and we all get on it. The platform then is raised half-way up the room and is very close to the window - I get the sensation that I'm floating in the darkness.

"There", one of the men says, pointing to something I cannot see at first.  I look more closely and see a slender rod, about a meter tall and inset with some flashing LED lights.  It hangs in the nothingness like the beacon it is.  "This is what you designed, this guidance system," he continues, "and this is what will guide them all home."  I am in tears again, this time from a feeling of deep humility and gratitude.  Memories of working on this piece that would make this all possible flood me - how could I have forgotten!? - and I feel very grateful these people took time to remind me.

The mission is a success, and the aftermath blurs into some time in the future.  I am walking through what appears as a car lot with brand new shiny cars all ready to be sold.  A group of giggly girls are clustered around one car in particular, and my curiosity gets the best of me.  I approach them and they show me what they're looking at - a car of gleaming sapphire blue is fitted with a slender rod about a meter tall and inset with some flashing LED lights.

They're still giggling and making childish phallic jokes, while I'm standing stunned again at how quickly my invention is forgotten, that it is now used as a decoration for some jock's car.  "This opened up the skies for us, took us to worlds unknown," I say sadly, "And you still don't understand..."

I walk away...

Collecting Cobwebs and Attending a Wedding

I wake up briefly, but maybe it I am only dreaming that I woke up. Conditions seem just right, and yes, the buzzing starts.  It startles me, and I pull back into consciousness once or twice, but finally give in to that exquisite feeling of heaviness before I flow out of myself and fly around my room.


It dawns on me that this is my room, but different.  It's much larger, and is furnished differently.  I can't quite place the style - Indian?  Oriental?  Middle Eastern?  A fusion of all, perhaps? - but it's exotic and beautiful, full of rich silks of deep reds and golds, and polished woods.  As quickly as I am startled by all this, I get used to it.  This has always been my room, of course!  And I turn my attention to flying around.  I have no desire to go outside, but instead concentrate on thinking of a way to bring back proof that I do indeed fly.  


A small flutter near the ornate light fixture catches my eye and I giggle to see a cobweb hanging down.  I giggle again, because I know the "Mother" (I'm again startled to recognize her, even though I have never met her in life) keeps a spotless place.  As I float so close to the ceiling, I realize that it's full of dusty cobwebs that from the floor would be invisible.  I think how startling it would be to her to see this and then just as quickly, realize that I can provide the proof indeed!  I can make my hand just dense enough to collect these cobwebs!!  


And that is exactly what I do, leisurely all around the large room, occasionally glancing at myself on the bed, but mostly concentrating on collecting quite a respectable gray ball of fluff.  Just for fun, I stick my head through the large window to look outside, and enjoy the cool darkness, before going back inside, and gently slide into myself.  My physical hand now holds the cobwebs gathered, and I feel very pleased with my accomplishments.


In the hallway I hear "Mother" talking with someone else, and excitedly I call to her.  She comes in, her arms full of laundry, and tells me she can't stay to talk.  I convince her otherwise by offering to fold the long sheets with her, and she gratefully dumps everything on my bed.  "Mother" is a middle-aged plump woman, wearing a pink flowered cotton sari, her black hair generously streaked with gray and pulled into a bun at the back.  


I tell her that I just came back from flying, and this time brought proof of this.  I show her the sticky gray fluff, and tell her how I got it.  After the first horrifying moment at the knowledge that her place isn't as clean as she thought, she is actually quite impressed, and talks to me at length about it, promising never to doubt me again.  All this while, we are folding the laundry companionably.


It is now later in the day, and I am out in a beautiful garden behind the house.  There are a number of younger women there, all dressed in beautiful saris, and I am especially drawn to one with dark curly hair and black eyes.  She's very tiny and fragile, and quite sad.  We start talking and she tells me that she needs to marry again, but doesn't know how to go about getting out of the marriage she's already in.  I feel I know her in more than just the dream.


The garden is becoming more crowded as we are joined by some men and young boys, around age 10 to 12.  One of them is dressed in a white silk jacket and pants, and is very "beautiful" - even as I say this word, I know it's inappropriate for a boy, but there is no other way to describe him.  He is also quite a comedian, and keeps us all entertained and laughing with his antics.  At one time he climbs into "Mother's" lap and sings to her how he has outgrown his work at the plantation, how he needs to expand his wings and go see the world.  We are all deeply moved by his plea for independence, and the Mother hugs him closer.


I momentarily lose track of the beautiful slender woman I spoke to, and now look for her.  She is standing by herself, her back to us and I go to her, as do all the other people in this garden. She now has an odd headpiece on, one that looks much more like European medieval - a wide chin-strap of white linen embroidered in red, an oval linen white veil held in place with a thin silver circlet.  She looks at me with more determination in her eyes and a faint smile, and tells me she is now ready to move on with her life.  She is ready for this marriage that is designed to free her from the bondage she is in.  


A young man approaches her - he is obviously Caucasian and dressed in medieval garb.  He has an easy, approachable, gentle manner about him, and it's obvious that they are very, very happy together.  


As a huge celebration starts, for the first time, she laughs aloud with genuine joy, and dances about with her new husband.  I do want to ask how she dealt with the issue of her other marriage, but know this is not the time nor the place, and knowing that she did indeed set her other life behind her.  


I join in the celebration which now has become a long spiral dance ...

Military Misdirection

And now for something completely different:

The dreams last night had me in some sort of military camp. It is snowing, and there are patches of snow interspersed with slushy puddles. I feel ridiculously happy that I finally can wear my winter boots.

I am to meet someone, and find there are a lot of people there. It appears that more than just myself have been invited to this meeting. We take our seats, when something strikes me as strange - I recognize only some of the people there, with most of them being total strangers. I wonder how they got on base and who they are. Apparently, this thought crosses the minds of others, but we can do nothing about this because at that moment, we are addressed by a general. 

I almost laugh out loud, because he's at least a foot shorter than I am, all puffed out with medals on his chest and a riding crop under his arm - he looks like a cartoon! And sounds like one, as he begins to drone on and on about inconsequential things. Suddenly, I see that there's method to his madness - all the military personnel pay strict attention, while all the others are put to sleep. "Ah, discipline comes through every time!", I think to myself, as we take them all to a more secure area.

Inside one of the tents, I am now part of an interrogation team, but this too begins to feel like a farce. The next person is brought in, and I'm shocked to see it's an old friend of mine who is very much involved with the army cadets program. Instead of acting in a professional and logical manner I'm accustomed from him, he begins to treat this entire interrogation as a comedy routine - we can't get anywhere with him, but we all begin to laugh and enjoy his antics, especially his funny voice and accents routine.

And then I snap out of it. I recognize that he's doing exactly what the "general" was doing. Touching my co-staff lightly on the shoulders also brings them to attention. Sadly, I inform my friend that we see through his game, and it won't work any more. 

The last image I remember seeing is my brother driving a large truck towards me. I get in and...wake up...

Another Wedding

It looks like this is starting a new trend in dreams:

I have moved to a new apartment in a church complex, which also includes a school.  Somehow, my job is tied into this too.  I feel very much at home here, because although it’s unmistakably Catholic, there’s a feeling of freedom to do pretty much whatever anyone wants as far as worship is concerned.  My connection is with the school in some way, and I begin to make friends with the many young people there.  Among them are a pair of Oriental brothers – they’re older, and we seem to have a special immediate connection (cross-reference dream of Feb. 15^th).

As I walk through the corridors of the school, I notice a glass display case containing many medieval artifacts that were obviously made by the children.  There are helmets and other pieces of armour – all made with duct tape (yes, I giggle) – banners, weapons, and even attempts at garb.  The prevalent colours seem to be blue and orange, and I wonder if these are the school colours and make a mental note to find out.

I suddenly get an idea to organize an event and ask some ever-present kids around me if they would like that, to which they agreed enthusiastically, and we go off to find the principal – a very pleasant, if somewhat absent-minded type young man whom I remember meeting before.  He totally agrees it would be a great idea and then takes me back to the same display case saying, “Have you seen what our students made?”  We all laugh as I tell him that it is this very display that gave me the idea to do this.

It’s later in the day, and I am enjoying walking through the gardens of this large property.  It is a warm day that is rapidly becoming darker as evening sets in.  I am by an ornamental wooden fence speaking with some staff and the Brothers, when I notice some activity behind me.  Someone is busy setting up what looks like an altar – a wedding altar at that!!  We all just watch the preparations, and one of the staff, a woman who I recall is the vice-principal, tells me that weddings often take place here.  “They’re just having a rehearsal now”, she says, “We have not even got an officiant yet – this is just a stand-in.”

I say nothing until the rehearsal reaches a certain point, and then say in unison, not even looking at the couple, but facing my friends, “By the power vested in me by the Province of Ontario and All-Seasons Church of Canada, I now pronounce you…”, thus revealing myself to be a licensed officiant.  There is a flurry of excitement as everyone realizes that I can do this and be on call for them.  The Brothers tell me that it’s time for me to get ready, because the actual wedding will be soon.  They walk me to my apartment and even suggest what I should wear – my gold lace robes. 

I can still see the gardens where this will be taking place and all the hurried happy preparations that are taking happening.  Then I go inside, and get ready myself…

-----

A word about The Brothers – these two have been around me for many, many years, although appearing as Oriental is rather a new thing.  

ETERNAL VALENTINE

A small seaside community and a two-car train that makes fun rides all around the area - these are my first images remembered from last night's dream. I am riding this train almost daily, just for the fun of it. One junction is staffed by a young woman with long dark blond hair. She always laughs and waves to us as she goes around checking switches and rails. 

This train makes its way around the cove and takes on more passengers. There's a party atmosphere on the train, we're all laughing and introducing ourselves to each other. I meet a couple of oriental men, and as we talk, I find that they are Buddhist monks, and we fall into a lively spiritual discussion.

I do not know at which point the train changes into a huge open space, like a hotel lobby, but I gradually become aware that this change has taken place. There are many couples there, wandering around, obviously very much in love. In fact, as the great hall continues to evolve, I see that it is now filled with deep couches of white and red upholstery, heart-shaped cushions, soft recessed lights and - I laugh! - pole dancing equipment. Discreet wait staff moves quietly among the couples with drinks and trays of food. Some cuddle on these couches, while others are engaged in games of tag. Many agile ladies leap onto the poles and teasingly stay just out of reach of their partners. 

The two oriental men and I walk through, trying to find out just exactly what we're doing here. Eventually, we briefly part company and when I see the men again, they are excitedly bringing me a couple, who, they say, need to get married. I recognize the young woman who works on the railroad and we enthusiastically hug in recognition. I'm suddenly all business, and ask for the marriage license, which they provide for me instantly. It's not surprise that I also have the wedding registry with me, and all five of us go into a small room that's all set up for a wedding, which I conduct effortlessly. The two monks stand on either side of me.

I instruct the couple to have a long and happy life together, and to start that off with a honeymoon in this best place possible, to enjoy themselves to the fullest! It's only when I find myself alone in the room that I realize I haven't been paid for my services, and immediately go to find the monks, who at that moment, are looking for me. They now need me for a prosperity ceremony, which I gladly participate in. They are both now dressed in red robes with white silk scarves about their necks, and the ceremony includes opening of an ornate box. At first I try to keep up with the chant, but realize that I do not know it, and provide a constant bass drone instead. They open the box, containing many gold coins, and cover it with another white silk scarf, then feed each other (and me) with almonds from another dish. 

This being over, I ask about my fee, and they look at me as they don't understand what I'm talking about. I realize that this is a foreign concept to them, and also that as long as we stay here, we will be paid in a thousand different ways that wouldn't involve money.

I walk out and see this wonderful place of Love with new eyes. This is my new place of employment and home. I happily wander through the hall filled with romping couples, already seeing those who will need my services lining up. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember that it's still Valentine's night...