dream life

Strangely, this allowing myself to be depressed has opened up my dream life. My good friend Anne Hill is a dreammeister....she gives workshops in dream incubation and helps people explore their dreams. I work with people too on their dreams, but my own rarely seem to warrant much exploration. I've tended to have dreams about showing up to my favorite restaurant and my reservation being lost, or finding myself at an elegant gala wearing purple hot pants. Epic dreams are rare. Epics seem to be the stuff of my waking life.

I'm still immersed in paper work and the stress of house transition. Things have not been going well. I've learned lots by letting myself sink down into grey. There has been moments of respite, but right now, things are grim. And my dreams are haunting me, in a way that truly is new for me. Last night I had two dreams I can't shake.

The first: I'm traversing thru a huge construction that seems to be underground. It's a concentration camp that has been buried, and as I go thu it I keep thinking "this has got to be brought to light!" There's bones and torture devices and lots of bars and big locks. Then I realize that some rooms/sections are full of water, and I want to figure out how to open the doors, but not drown. It feels imperative to get the water moving. Suddenly I'm in a little boat on a big rush of water. I look up and go thu what looks like a trapdoor to an attic. I'm suddenly in a light filled house and there's a woman there who looks like she's out of a commercial (all shiny teeth and hair) and she has a baby. I'm pissed off and yell "don't you know what you are living on!" She is part of a group that renovates concentration camps and sells them as nice condos. I'm all raggedy, wet, and outraged.

the second: I'm crying and crying in the garden up at my land above Cazadero. The sun is shining and everything is beautiful but my heart seems broken. Suddenly D. is there (a heartbreaker herself) and she says "it's okay, I'm here, let me get you something to eat."I realize i'm famished. She offers me a big bowl of salad, but all the greens look really old, the cucumber slimy, the tomatoes moldy. There's fresh greens all around me, and tomato plants and cucumber vines heavy with fruit. I say, "let's make it fresh" and she argues with me about wasting food, that it's still good...and something about KPFA saying we should eat everything, no matter how rotten, it's good for the world. I lay down on the ground and taste the dirt. I want to sink into it and the taste of it in my mouth is vivid...even now.

So that's the dream life of last night. A far cry from hot pants. Jeez. I guess I now have some juicy stuff fraught with meaning to take to a dream workshop. The more grey in the waking life, the more vibrant the dreams.