DREAM IN THREE ACTS

Dreamed on February 22, 2014

Act 1- Orgy

A nightmarish portion of my dreams last night – a brutal, violent orgy from which we were all trying to escape, but by powers beyond our control, we can not. I was very happy to wake up and not go back to this.

Act 2 - Abduction

I am simply living my life when I am approached by a couple of scary looking men. Before we can say anything to each other, I am suddenly grabbed and wrapped up in blankets, tied up and tossed into a rickety wooden cart that has three or four other people in it. There is a discontinuity in time frames – as though the men are from another time period, wearing rough dirty clothing. I am dumped next to a man who absolutely stinks and I find it doubly hard to breathe. Almost on top of me, they throw a young man, also trussed up in blankets and twine. 

I have no idea how long we travel like this, but eventually the two men decide to stop for a break – at a gas station convenience store of all places! I hear that they will also be getting water for us, so I know that they don’t want us to die. While we were on route, I managed to loosen the bindings, and quickly get out of the blankets while they’re in the store. I also loosen the young man, who is now more like a teenage boy, and tell him to run. Recognizing the district, I give him directions which way to go. I run as though I am in a marathon, like I’ve (quite literally) never ran in my life. Somehow, the area and streets change around me, and I now feel a little lost, but still urge my companion to run. There’s a set of stairs leading to a beautiful small garden, and I now know that just beyond that will be a major street where we will be safe. We run through the garden, down another small set of stairs, around the corner, and just as I thought, find ourselves on busy College Street in Toronto, where we finally can stop and catch our breath…

Act 3 – Something Scadian 

I am with a group of people and we’re talking about the way things were back in the ‘golden days’ of the SCA. Someone mentions that Ariadne and Reynard will be holding a mini-revel at the Fassel Manor and anyone with SCA ties is invited, so off we go!

Only after we get there do I realize that I don’t have any garb, but almost as the thought crosses my mind I walk into a hallway and see a mannequin with a beautiful pale blue brocade cotehardie, with all appropriate silver accessories – including a pair of pants made of the same material. This is rather intriguing to me, since pants like this are not usually worn with gowns, but what the heck, I get dressed in the entire outfit. The skirt is beautifully heavy and full, and I now realize the benefit of such an undergarment, because it’s obvious I’ll be doing a lot of twirling in this garb.

Everyone else finds something to wear and are equally delighted in their finds. Our hosts make an appearance and greet us warmly, but with apologies – apparently, their home is undergoing some renovations, and we will be assailed by noise and workmen going through the grand hall. I suggest we go outside into the garden, and lead everyone out, but there we find the grounds to be full of puddles and soft mud – not suitable for any kind of partying, so cheerfully we go back to the house. 

After a short time of just mingling and chatting, someone starts to dance, but doesn’t get far. Seems that without music or someone to lead us, things won’t get far. I say, “If Kilderick (John Van Opham) was here, we’d be dancing no matter what the circumstances.” Everyone nods in agreement. “But why should we wait for him? I know how to lead, as does Baroness Ariadne – so let’s to it!” Instantly the gentles form a circle and we do “Salenger’s Round”.

Time passes, and the conditions of the house begin to deteriorate to the point that it becomes dangerous to walk around. To make things worse, I am now surrounded by a hoard of little children who want me to read ‘Alice in Wonderland’ to them. They pull me towards the only room which hasn’t been demolished yet, but it’s downstairs, and the stairs are in very bad and dangerous conditions to use. The children laugh, and tell me that they can simply jump down, just like Alice down the rabbit hole, and off they go, floating gently through the air. Of course, I do the same, with my full skirts forming a undulating parachute about me. Safely down, I sit in the chair with the children around me, and begin to read them the story.

Shortly afterwards, another lady comes in to take charge of the girls, and tells me that I’m needed upstairs, this time to look after some boys. I float up to where they are, amid the construction rubble and experience a momentary onset of panic – where can I possibly take them that would be safe? I glance outside, and see my answer. Instead of the grounds, I see the saucer section of the Enterprise. “Let me tell you an amazing story, boys,” I say, as I point to the window. “Come, let’s go and play on a Starship, and visit the stars!” To them this is amazing and unbelievable, since again I have gone back in time – they’re all dressed in Victorian garb.

Immediately, we transport ourselves there, and I tell them all about how the mighty Enterprise battled the Klingons and Romulans, finally reaching peace among them all. 

At the same time, I now have the added responsibility of keeping the invoices straight for all the workmen. The file drawer is far too small to hold all the documents, but somehow, distracted by the workmen, keeping the children in line, I manage to get this job done as well. Of course, I am nervous that this being my first time, I will make a mistake, and tell the foreman this when he comes to collect the papers. He tells me not to worry, then Ariadne appears, telling me that she is deeply impressed by how I juggled everything, and thanks me with a silver brooch largesse.

Instantly, all the repairs are done, the house is cleared of all rubble, and only the Scadians remain in the now newly renovated Great Hall. From somewhere, music strikes up, and we step sprightly to the tune of the Black Nag…

TALKING WITH GOD

Dreamed on February 20, 2013

I am in Toronto, and it feels like I’ve gone back in time. All my children are much younger and I’m with my ex-husband in the blissful days before it all broke apart. We are living in a nice large home with a full back yard. I tell myself this is the life I’ve always dreamed of, but I know something isn’t quite right. My ex asks me to go with him on a date, and we hire a sitter for the children.

We go to a beautiful little mall that looks very Mediterranean, with a lot of wrought iron grill-work, small glass tables and chairs scattered around the bistro, under a beautiful glass dome ceiling. There are numerous plants everywhere, including a variety of ivies that trail into the iron grillwork. This is one of our favourite places; I sit down and adjust my shawl, conscious of the fact that I’m wearing a very pretty purple sundress and a matching wrap. My ex goes off to buy the food, and I continue sitting there, and sit there, and sit there…

The happy feeling I had is now waning, as I realize that I have been abandoned. He is not coming back. I allow that thought to really take hold in me, coming to terms with it before I turn my attention to my children. Instantly, I jump up and run out of the mall, but everything outside has now changed. The neat neighbourhood has been churned under giant bulldozers, and I find it difficult to find a clear path to get to the next street. After some struggle, I manage to do so, but am bewildered – nothing is recognizable to me anymore. I begin to run towards the lights, thinking that once I identify that corner, I’ll know how to get home. Everything is different, and I am totally lost. I’m not even sure if I’m in Toronto anymore, or for that matter, if I’m even on Earth! 

Again, I find my way obstructed by large machinery, and decide since I can’t get around it, I’ll simply have to go over it, and begin to fly. This is not the flights of fancy I’ve had before, where I revel in the freedom of flight – now I’m flying with purpose as solid as my walking had been. From this vantage point, I see nothing I can recognize, but eventually get myself out of the construction zone by asking some workmen for directions. They stare at me in amazement as I hover above them, and even try the stereotypical wolf-whistles and pick-up lines, but eventually tell me what I need to know. I fly in the direction they pointed out. By now, I became at ease with the thought of my children being in the care of the sitter, and know that they will be all right. Somehow this is no longer my concern, although I do not know what my concern really needs to be now. It’s like a whole new empty vista opens up inside me, unexplored and waiting to be entered.

Once I see more habitable streets, I set down and begin walking again. At the next corner, I see a large department store, and go in there. It reminds me of the past Eaton’s store that used to be in downtown Toronto. There is something stately and elegant about that establishment, and I’m surprised to see that it’s decorated in Christmas style, with large wreaths, garlands, and giant glass ornaments everywhere. I simply wander around, and eventually find myself in a small café. Something draws me here and an elderly lady waves me over, and pours me some tea. She says this is the holding area, and we will be called soon. I have no idea what she’s talking about, and simply wait for the next development in this extraordinary experience.

Soon a man calls us over to follow him. He is slender and graceful, his hair and beard are neat and beautiful silver colour, he wears a pair of reading glasses. And he’s dressed like a priest in a black cassock with a white collar. Intrigued, I follow with the rest, and we’re taken to a beautiful museum a few blocks down the street. We’re told to make ourselves at home, and enjoy the exhibits. All our comforts will be provided for. “However,” he warns us, “this is only a temporary way station. Be ready when you are called again.”

I don’t understand any of this, but even though I’m curious, I don’t ask any questions, being content to simply let it all unfold. Someone says that this place is called The Church of Apollo, which causes me to smile to myself. The exhibits are ancient, in perfect condition, and displayed beautifully. I wander around, admiring everything, eventually just floating up to other levels instead of walking up the wide marble staircases, ignoring the stares. At one landing, some four stories up, I see a curious site – a group of children are called one by one, and gently pushed over the edge. There is no panic; indeed, everyone laughs and applauds as this is done. The children are totally unafraid – as they float softly, their clothes change into shimmering white robes edged with gold, and they sprout delicate feathery wings.

I don’t have time to marvel at this for too long, because I now hear my name called, and fly off to where I’m led. I arrive at a destination on the other side of the building, to see the older women there, along with a group of other women who were obviously streetwalkers and strung-out druggies. We’re all invited to a lavish buffet, and the priest again comes out to speak to us. “Oh great!” I think to myself, “We’re in for a sermon on how sinful we all are and how we’ll all be damned to hell for it.” Instead, the priest graciously invites us to eat, and while we do so, he opens a big book and speaks to one of the younger women, listing everything she has done in her short life, both good and bad. As he does so, she sees, truly *sees* her mistakes, how she could have avoided them, what she could have done better, the gifts that she was given but never used. She bursts into tears, and begs forgiveness. The priest gently tells her all is well, she has another chance to make a better life for herself, the suddenly throws her over the rail. Like the children I saw earlier, she transforms. She’s still herself, but is now cleansed of all the harm she has done to herself. She’s able to fly as easily as she can walk, and I smile as she explores her newfound life.

Before the priest does this to anyone else, I walk up to him and start talking. “It’s very interesting, this whole situation,” I say to him, “There are heavy churchy overtones to these entire proceedings, and yet we stand in a place called ‘The Church of Apollo’, an ancient Greek God.” I walk to one of the exhibits and point to it. “I’m not at all surprised to see an authentic Roman lorica (Roman armour made of boiled leather) here, although now we’re mixing cultures here. I’m also sure that your book there will tell you that I’m not Christian but Pagan.” Suddenly, I feel very old, my true age, as though I aged some forty years in a few minutes. “My back hurts,” I say changing the subject, “I need to sit down.” I pull up a chair in front of the priest and sit down. “So, what is my judgement going to be, and who the hell gave you the authority to do this in the first place?”

The priest now subtly changes, and I realize I may have overstepped my bounds. “Ooops,” I think to myself, wondering how I can backpedal my way out of this. He laughs – a genuine, hearty, utterly open laugh and says, “I think I better sit down too – my own age seems to overtake me at the moments I least expect it”. We continue to talk for a few minutes, now completely at ease. The Light from his face and being goes mostly unnoticed by every one else, but I now know that I am in the presence of God, in all His forms – Apollo included!

BARBIES AND BEADS

February 21, 2014

I am living in a beautiful large, airy apartment which has more windows than walls – it’s like an old Victorian conservatory. The windows overlook lovely grounds that are full of gardens, lawns and shade trees. However, as nice as my accommodations are, I really don’t have much time to admire them, because I am busy taking care of a small child, a little girl of about five years of age. I’m like a governess and tutor to her.

I am also offered a very exciting job – designing medieval and other historical costumes for the Barbie and Ken dolls. For this, I need to go into a studio, which means leaving my charge. After some thought, I make arrangements to enroll her in a school part time, thinking that my job would allow me to work from home frequently. Reporting to work on that first morning, I am delighted with all the rich fabrics around me, and the rows upon rows of naked pink and brown Barbies. 

Eager to begin, I grab a sketch pad and draw out several designs – a sideless surcote, a houppaland and a Norse gown, then go looking for suitable material. Here I run into a problem. My supervisor, the woman who offered me the job, suddenly begins to show her dissatisfaction with everything that I am doing, insisting that my designs are wrong. I tell her that I know the historical accuracies, and even point them out in reference books. She refuses to acknowledge them, and hands me a very small scrap of dark gold super shiny polyester fabric, and tells me that this is what I need to use. I can’t even make a set of sleeves out of that scrap, and tell her I won’t be working for her much longer if that is the way I’m going to be treated.

She backs off then, and I grab some bolts of fabric, my sketches, and go home. There I find my little girl playing with a friend, and they have turned my neat apartment upside down. Everything is in a disarray. I can’t really be angry with them, though, because they’re happily stringing beads together. I ask if they want me to join them, and they both shake their heads, wanting to do this alone. I go away and work on my designs, until they tell me they’re finished. I ask to see their creations and they simply point to a huge mess in the middle of my room. They have unstrung everything and just left the floor littered with tiny seed beads. I’m horrified, but also can’t help laughing. Ah, such are the joys of youth!

I send them outside to play in the garden, and then begin to clean up. I can’t quite decide if I should just vacuum it all up, or take the time to gather all the beads, and finally decide that I can always afford another package or two from the dollar store as I get the vacuum cleaner. With my apartment tidied up again, I go into another part of the house and am shocked to find it empty. There is only a couple of stacks of magazines left, and I suddenly am horrified to realize all the material and sketches I brought from work are gone! I go through the magazines, hoping that I’ll find the fabrics there, but no such luck. There is nothing I can do – I don’t have that job any more. The despair passes quickly as I come to the conclusion I can always make such fashions for Barbie dolls on my own, but now, at this moment, all I want to do is go outside and play with the girls. Out I run, laughing, and hop onto a swing…

AFTER A LONG ABSENCE...

... I've decided to resurrect this blog and continue posting my dreams here.  Although I haven't been doing so on this blog, the dreams continued very strongly.

By way of explanation as to why I've been away - I have been immersed in a lot of writing.  In fact, I now have four books to my credit, with no less than three other books in the works.  If interested, please check out   http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/SnowPhoenix to get more information.  This site gives you info on three books.  The fourth is available only directly from me.  It's called Points of the Pentagram: Elemental Journey through Dreams and Visions. 

With this introduction done, I will post a couple of my most recent dreams in their own pages.

See you again soon!!