Cave Dream

I had strange dreams of being in a cave in the wilderness and there was a wild man at the mouth of the cave, sitting peacefully, but covered in skins and with a beard and I had all the books inside me at the back of the cave in the nest of furs beyond the small fire. A woman-man-person had come to the wilderness mountain to talk to me and the man at the mouth of the cave said no you must go and stay away until the full moon after the storm, and the woman-man-person did, though sadly, and so we knew they didn't need to be here, and the man sat down on his stump by the mouth of the cave and played some music and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard and I laid my head back down on the furs again.

Thursday

Thunderstorms and ice cream.

Graph paper dreams of things yet to come.

Is there any better way to end the day?

 

Dreams and art

Earthquakes, hospitals on fire, lunch dates gone askew. My dreams lately are almost as disorienting as the nights of insomnia which precede them.

The tumultuous times are perfectly summed up in this painting by Hokusai, and this article by Jason Farago from August is a lovely deep dive into my favorite of the "Thirty-six Views of My. Fuji."

The mountain is a gesture; the wind and chaos are solid and undeniable. Yes. 

Dreams

Last night's dream found me sitting at the small wooden table, the mid-morning light falling through the the tall window onto my notebook as I wrote about how many quarter-acres to plant with oats or barley, quinoa and wheat. I was chilly but not cold, and the mug of tea warmed my hand.

Dreams

My headache knocked me out yesterday. By 4 I was exhausted and fell asleep just as the Bucks stood up the Magic on the courts. I woke up at midnight, thinking it was early morning, and read for an hour or two, falling asleep again and having intense dreams about living with crowds of people I didn't know, loss and malfunction of communication devices, missed appointments and interviews. It was harrowing. 

These are tumultuous times, not just in my subconscious but in every aspect of daily life. The uncertainty and unrest are unsettling; stretched into a new normal, these conditions leave me feeling quiet and hopeful -- nightmares aside -- that we can find a new Way through together.

Greenhouse Dream

Can a greenhouse even be three acres? Is that a thing?

The dream:

K and I were standing by the well, talking about the hives and whether planting buckwheat would untowardly affect the flavor of the honey. She ran a damp bandana around the tool she held, massaging dirt out of a groove, and said that if we only planted a little it would probably be fine, since we had three acres in here and could plant plenty to balance the flavor, letting the buckwheat provide a subtle earthy note. I handed her the bottle of tool oil and thought of petrichor. Water gurgled from the roof reservoir down the small waterfall on its way to the koi pond.

Another LM Dream

Inside, at my Writing desk, I got up to get a cup of tea. When I turned out of the doorway, I was in the hallway in Rivendell, heading towards the meditation room, and Robert was there, tending the fire in the small woodstove. I asked how I got here, and he asked what made me come this way. I said I was following the smell of woodsmoke, on my way to make tea. He smiled and said the kitchen was the other way, that I had turned right instead of left again, and that I was welcome to use the water on the kettle he had started keeping in the meditation room since I always turn this way.

We made tea from the cast iron pot on the woodstove, then took our mugs to sit on the Sun Porch before evening meditation. My study was on the left as I passed, as though it had always been there, notebook open to the page where I had been writing down the Druid dream from 2016. It was weird to have a dream reference in the dream, and I wondered (in the dream) if I was at Light Morning for real. I had ink on the side of my middle finger from filling my pen, and Robert mentioned that it was taking a lot of pages to write this one down, and he was glad I was doing it.

We took our tea to the sun porch, sitting in comfortable quiet when I heard voices, you and your brother coming up the road from your place down the hill. The late afternoon light caught in your brother's hair as you walked into sight, making your way in for Second Sit before dinner. Little Dog was running up and back around you as you walked, and you scooped him up, nestled him in the crook of your arm. There was pigment on your forearm from mixing glazes in the pottery studio behind the old house. The mug was warm in my hand.

The train dream

In my dream we were on the phone, you telling me you were running late getting back from flight school and asking if I could bring a package into the house when I went over to feed the dogs, when I got home. I was on a train from somewhere north, DC, maybe. I must have been at a conference or the like, because I was wearing an ivory silk blouse and a black pencil skirt, my standard conference uniform, and I changed shoes as we talked, slipping into comfortable ballet flats for the journey home.

I went in the side door of your house, which was smallish but not cramped. Cozy, with some plank paneling inside maybe reclaimed wood? A farmhouse sink, but not worn out or anything. Simple. A long window at the sink with plants on the sill. I put my little flowerdy suitcase down and turned on the gas burner under the stainless steel kettle while I filled the dog bowls from the ceramic bin under the sink. It was twilight and the fairy lights came on outside, sparkling in the reflection of a ladle hanging from the hood at the stove. I thought it might rain as I went to get the mail.

Hiking and Walking and Wondering

Talking a walking tour through Europe has been on my mind lately.
Again.
And then the fires in Greece happened and I wanted to be of service.
I'm not going anywhere, but it's interesting how my dreams are manifesting.

This week

So far this week I have blown most of the lightbulbs in the house and had a dream that I went to, and came out of, hell.

Of course, it's only Tuesday.

school's out

This has been a week of new chapters, in a way. Baseball is ending, school let out for summer today, and i have been very positively working on starting a business. It seems closer to reality with each passing day. More than ever, I am being cautious. There is an overwhelming reception in the community, and building the team has been as important to me as figuring the numbers. There has been great support so far, includingaffers of equipment (and pledges of serious business) from the sherriff, and information regarding development loans and grants (we love grants!) that the library volunteer reminded me about. How cool is that?

Beware the Ides of March

This week has been strange, and it's only Wednesday. Perhaps it's the early arrival of Daylight Saving Time, but I'm telling you everything is being weird. David and I can barely seem to keep up with the chaos cloud ripping through our world. Fortunately, the boys are being wonderful, and the togetherness David and I have is the mortar that holds us. My dreams have been especially weird of late, and graphic as ever. This morning, i had to take some serious time to figure out where the dreaming sequence left off and the real world picked up. Trust me, after gaming goons, workplace weirdness, simple-minded stalkers and generically being lost, it was nice to find myself curled up lovingly on the organic flannel.