I dream again of flying, this time to free joy #Dreams

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

On the night of Halloween, I went to sleep, once again, to fly. The dream began in a fairytale landscape inside a forest of haunting beauty. Light glowed golden upon trees dancing with vines as my footsteps led me further into the heart of the wood. There was no fear, only wonder inside of me until I reached my destination. An old victorian house turned into an inn stood in the middle of the fairy woods. I went inside and felt the golden light of the forest disappear with the closing of the door.

“Come with me,” the inner keeper urged, “I will show you to your room.” I followed with reluctance. Each room, when I peered inside, looked old and drab. The bedroom I was offered was not only filled with old things, but it was in need of a good washing. I turned down the bedclothes to show the inn keeper how dirty they were. “I cannot stay here,” I said.

So we moved on. Each room we entered was little better than the one before. “Could you stay here?” he asked of a room that was neat and tidy, but still filled with old things. “I suppose it would do,” I offered in concession.

When he left, the room still felt occupied. I noticed a man and a woman in the corner. Ghosts of the past? I could not say for sure. Except I knew they had to go. And the room, well, I was not going to allow it to contain me. Left alone, I began to fly, clearing the darkness into light with great gulps of air expelled from my lungs and out of my mouth.

And as I flew and expelled the darkness, the house began to expand and grow into an endless maze of rooms. Skipping the lower levels, I zipped up the stairway until I reached the top floor. Here I found a scene of exquisite beauty painted in a mural upon a ceiling the color of a cloudless sky. I flew with joy, following the arch of the sky-like ceiling through an ever-expanding house.

On and on I flew, until I realized they were coming for me. Fear began to creep its darkness over joy. I could hear them approaching. Their angry words filtered up the stairway ever closer in their need to capture the woman who flew when she should be walking. I had no choice but to go down. And so down I went, floor by floor.  But as I flew each level through endless rooms, I exorcised the darkness with my breath.

As my feet touched the ground floor, I realized gravity once again. Although I had evaded capture, surrounding me were the familiar markings of the mundane. All was brown and drab. Ordinary and old. My eyes searched until they found my feet upon the floor and I smiled. “Ha,” I laughed in realization. “Even here I can fly.” And so I lifted my feet and flew, once again, into joy.

Hour later, I walked into my friend Deb’s house and sat at her kitchen island with our friends, Sophia, Adrianne, and Jane. Dressed as a dragon in a purple and green onesie borrowed from my daughter, with silver fairies dangling from my ears, I was filled with a childlike giddiness. “What’s going on, Alethea?” Deb kept turning to look at me with a smile. “Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t know,” I returned her smile. “Maybe it has to do with my dream last night.”

Sometimes we heal in the day time, sometimes we heal at night. Thousands of years ago, we built temples for dreaming and inside we slept to heal our bodies, give clarity to our minds, and find a deeper understanding of the truths of our beings.

For as long as time has been recorded, poets, sages, and inventors have dreamt masterpieces while their bodies slumbered. I wonder how many people really believe that dreams are simply random, nonsensical ramblings of a mind left to wander with abandon?

Even as a young child I was fascinated with dreams. For awhile, I kept a dream journal. Sometimes I would dream an event before it would happen, and wonder how that could possibly be. There is so much more going on while we sleep than many of us realize. Although I cannot say with certainty what every dream means, nor can I recall them all in vivid detail. But, I am certain we dream with purpose. In the landscape of night we live out our fears and our joys, and sometimes we transform through them.

A month ago I felt as though I might be consumed by a fear I could not wholly define. It felt old and deeply rooted, its origins extending beyond this lifetime. The dreams of this past week have felt healing and transformative. There now exists inside of me a core of strength in the place that held that irrational fear. A sense that despite the demons that might howl around me, I will be okay.

 

 

A Dream of the Free Soul #Dreams

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

I had one of those dreams I love, again. The ones where I lift, without effort, my feet off the ground and fly unburdened through the landscape. This one, though, was different. Normally, I wake from my flying dreams feeling frustrated. Lingering inside of me is an almost desperate desire to turn the dream into reality. To somehow master the actual art of levitation and fly around during my waking hours. It sounds somewhat absurd when one considers it in a literal sense. Why fly when you have feet?

Yet we all have inside of us the memory of wings. Our soul, condensed into a physical form to live out a life, knows the freedom of boundless existence and pure, unfettered joy. This is why we dream of flight. To return to this truth. Before this morning, I would wake from my flying dreams feeling weighted by reality as soon as my feet moved off the bed and found landing on the ground. Back to a reality that could not compete with the marvelous freedom of my dream, I would consider it a teasing escape from the here-and- now of existence.

This morning, my dream woke me before it felt complete. I was still flying when it nudged me to wake up at the precise moment I needed to. I don’t use an alarm, and it was 6:10am, time to start the morning and call the teenagers out of their beds. Yet, although I was rather in love with the scene I was living in my dream, the feeling it had instilled in me lingered in a different way than previous nights’. Clarity developed as the vivid display of the dream landscape slowly faded. The gift was inside of me. Not illusive and intangible. It was, simply, me.

I have been grabbling with some of the larger issues of life these days. I will not go into them, as they are private matters, but suffice it to say, they have weighed upon me. Most nights I go to bed and dream of the struggle. Last night, though, I found the release.

It was one of those rare dreams (at least for me) where the seemingly tangled complexity vanishes into the pure truth of life. As I flew from scene to scene, facing the inner demons that I had externalized into my life, I exorcised them. Sometimes literally. I filled my lungs and blew light into the darkness of a haunted basement filled with festering “life.” I flew back to childhood and laughed energy into absurdity. The worry of words not being read turned trivial inside a bookstore that could not contain my flying body. I was vast and limitless. Without weight, I flew into the open air and breathed light to the children surrounding me. I knew they saw the wonder of it, and that was enough. I didn’t linger to prove it, instead, I realized, it was their choice to join me. They had their lives. I had mine. To live. Individually, first and foremost.

You see, as I flew, it became clear that I was flying for no reason other than for myself. What may seem as a selfish revelation, became a selfless truth. The tangle of need to please another, or gain another’s approval disappeared with each scene I flew through. Let them live their lives, so you can live yours.

About a year or so ago, while holding my hands above another person in the transmission of energy that is Reiki, I saw inside the lens of the inner eye, the birth of her soul. It was so profoundly beautiful, I kept it to myself. Until now.  Imagine a star coming into being in the cosmos. A billion particles of light exploding into being. Together, their size dwarfs the planet we call home.

Her soul was all souls. No different than mine, or yours. The magnitude of this weightless revelation coalesced into the truth of my dream upon waking. The vehicle of this human body in which I reside no longer felt like a burden — limited and weighed down — as I realized that the light of my being was a truth that superseded any false notions of reality I chose to cling to. I could hold onto the burden of worry and doubt; of fear and disbelief, and that long held need to live through another’s approval, or I could let it all go and be me. Wholly and completely. Just me. Living this life uniquely designed for my growing and learning back to pure limitless existence.

Despair #Poetry

 

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Despair

Last night I watched a ship disappear

one life, followed by another, until the last

was swallowed by water lidded with ice

nothing left behind but despair

They say pay attention to colors

in dreams, the screen before me looming

in shades of gray and white while I stood

a part of the spectrum of rainbow light with my son

in the shadows. This lesson on despair

sinking before us and I feeling only

hope

 

Left Behind #dreamsymbolism

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I woke before the alarm, standing in a room filled with crystals and stones inside a mall. Alone. Left behind by two “friends” and a boyfriend. It is likely they even took my blue Volt with them, driving away in the guiltless pleasure of having deserted me. I had my cell phone with me and took it out while I surveyed the crowded, lifeless space. It was useless to me. I didn’t have any of their numbers. Even if I had, would they have answered?

It had been a strangely vivid dream. So real it felt like life, yet I had not even been thinking of these three people. Remnants from adolescence angst. The two girls who I felt had once betrayed me and left me behind many years ago, I realized were still haunting me with this fear. We dream what we need to heal, and last night I dreamt the fear of being left behind. Again.

If I take the road back further, driving in my blue car, as I did in the dream, I can retrace the routes I once traveled. Those I had left behind, and those who had left me behind. I am not guiltless, as my dream showed me. There was the girl I’ll call Sally, who tried to get into the car with me. Opened the door blue door to squish her way into the passenger seat with me, while my boyfriend drove and those two former friends sat with glee in the backseat. I told her “no,” that there was “no room for her,” before I shoved her out and closed the door, while thinking about the empty space that could have held her behind me.

It was fall when we traveled the roads in my dream. The season of life before decay. I had gazed in admiration at the hills shrouded in color as we crested the top of one to land in a place covered with carved stones. “There’s a goat!” Or was it a wolf? I thought it was real before I became embarrassed by my mistake. Oh, how I wanted to be accepted. Liked. Loved.

Yet, we are all left behind and we all leave others behind. Intentionally and deliberately. Sometimes with love, sometimes for lack of love. Self-preservation can be a cruel need. It forgets that this leaving behind is never lasting, but a necessary part of the growth of the self before it discovers that there is no self. Division, another cruel trick of the mind searching for acceptance. Forgetting that the self divides only to someday return to the ever-flowing river that is Love.

 

I Dream of Listening to God on the Radio

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An individual life in a sea of life

I was lying in a chamber under the sea. The murky green of the ocean and all of its life surrounded me. It was impossible to say where my body ended and it began, except I was aware of my presence and the sea of life around me. I was both observer and participant as I watched the dance of life, sometimes struggling to break free, sometimes weaving together. Dark shapes moving through the soupy sea in what felt like an endless play called “Life.”

In the background, somewhere unseen and only heard, was the voice of God on the radio.

“So, you are saying that the individual will eventually become the we?” the host asked.

“Yes. The individual is finite, the we is ever-lasting,” God replied.

My ears listened to the interview with God as my eyes watched the play of life searching for individuality around me. I felt their struggle as my own, sensing myself as separate from the whole that encompassed me. I felt lonely with separation until I gave way to the concept that felt like Truth of that everlasting “we” that was waiting. This inevitable return that was waiting not just for me, but for every being. Peace replaced fear and anxiety. The struggle of the individual cells to join into a self gave way to the rhythm of the sea, which I began to realize was a part of me. The fear of a loss that was only mine left me. This me that I called “I,” I realized, could never feel whole until it gave way and became the whole. I could live this life, and whatever ones that came after, to feel the struggle as I must, but I no longer would fear that inevitable union. That coming back to the whole never to be born, perhaps, again, into separation. For the eternal we felt like bliss.

 

 

Arch #writephoto prompt

 

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

 

I dreamt of holding white dresses

like a wedding

because we all seek to be adorned with beauty

don’t we?

A brown cake rippled

in frosted garlands by a child’s

hand guided with a confidence

so easily lost to age

My feet run the hallway of records

life’s footsteps echoing off walls

which seem so solid to the mind

The light beyond the tunnel almost

an illusion

when matter enfolds the path

My contribution to Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt challenge. If you would like to participate, please click here

writephoto

 

 

Dreaming the Sweetest Pair of Uggs

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My earliest recalled dream last night found me hosting a group of sort-of friends from long ago. We appeared to be having a book club, and my friends were hungry and asking for something to nibble on. Suddenly, I found myself sorting through clutter, old newspapers and collected material that needed to be cleared and disposed of, as I attempted to work around it to make the snacks.

Chocolate cookies were going into ovens, bagels were being toasted. Each heated treat waiting to be topped with ice cream or cream cheese. Sounds delicious, right? But, I was feeling over-whelmed with the task. There was too much clutter, and the cookies were starting to burn before I could get to them. Forget the ice cream intended as stuffing, my hungry “friends” were waiting.

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Fast-forward to the next remembered dream. Here I was in high school, although not the high school I had once attended in waking life. This high school appeared to be a private school for grooming elite students. Again, I found myself among my friends, only this time I was comfortable and happy. The head-master (or the equivalent of one) pulled me aside as my friends and I chatted, and for a moment I thought I had done something wrong.

“You are a phenomenal student,” she told me when  we were alone in the hallway, our heads huddled together in the corner. “We’ve chosen you for the competition.”

My task, if I decided to accept, was to design a new pair of UGG shoes.

But I can’t draw, I told myself. And then I stopped. Yes I can. I can do anything I want to. It just might take more time, more practice and dedication.

Suddenly, I was dreaming up amazing ideas. There was no limit to my imagination and ability to create something new. I was putting zippers down the backs of boots that looked like they might rip every time someone pulled them on. I was applying new adornments, colors and textures. Finally, I settled on the design I would sure would win. A white pair of wedding UGGs to be worn by a bride in northern climates. They would have a thin lining of fur, soft and delicate as UGGs could be made, with a slight heel to lift. I was over the moon, this was going to be so much fun!

Although I never finished the dream to see if I had in fact won the competition, it didn’t matter. I had won, after all. I woke feeling light and lifted and full of joy. The full potential of creation was stirring inside of me. I knew the limitlessness of my being and how wonderful it feels when one stirs that put into being.

I often analyze my dreams for their messages, and here is what I took from these two dreams. The moon, right now, is just starting to wane. It has waxed into its fullness and is now starting to shed its weight. When the moon waxes, my dreams are often troubled and filled with scenes that play out the ego’s fears. They peak at the full moon, and then they begin to transform and shed their weight.

Last night, in my first dream, I was reminded of the weight the ego carries in the form of fear. There was clutter all around me. It was frustrating, it was getting in the way of the tasks I wanted to accomplish. But, these tasks were also of the ego and its fears. I was striving to please people who really didn’t deserve it. As a result, I was placing myself in a lower position to them (I actually went down a hill in the dream to prepare their food, which is also where I encountered all the clutter). The food I was preparing was sweet and rich. It was food that adds weight to the body. The foods we crave to feed our fears, which quite literally add to the emotional weight we carry in our bodies.

Then spirit gifted me with the second dream. A full transformation from the first. Here I was amid peers again, but a true leader and not someone who tries to please others at the sacrifice of her true self. I was admired and recognized for who I was, and my true potential was allowed and encouraged to shine. There was that moment of self-doubt that likes to creep in for most of us, but look what happened! I over-came it! I went beyond it to stir that pot of limitless creative potential. It was glorious, it was fun, it lifted my heart. It filled me with light. This is is the stuff inside all of us, we just need to shed the weight of the ego, stop feeding its fears, enter the womb of creation inside and birth. Again and again! We are all limitless beings.

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