As Mariah lay there resting on her quilts, something caught her eye. It was a sun cat up the wall created by something shiny outside. The light sunk into her eyes, bringing in a golden glow into the room.
Some magnificent indirection was being created from outside. The afternoon sun was sending in this moving solar light that entered her brain, she a little leprechaun, and she did not feel afraid of that mercurial beauty as it went in delightful leaps around the room and found its home in her. The golden light pervaded her from the top of her head to bottom of her feet.
Then a light being was standing there with a scroll, and on it were some golden words, which slipped into the air and joined that sun cat in it leaps and bounds around the room.
These cats love the sun but are not sun cats
As these words and light entered her it infused her backbone and she was a tree, a holy tree, a rare tree of light. She was a hermetic container for this tall tree full of the green leaves, shining with golden light, with deep roots into the earth below and reaching for the heavens above, with twelve fruits, just waiting in turn for their need. She felt full and very rich, in a walled in garden of herself.
She woke up with a start, her feet asleep, hearing the clang of the buckets full of milk outside. She slid from her warm nest upon the quilts, rubbing her feet and pondering her latest dream. She thought it more like a vision than a dream.
It was almost sun set, with a huge moon rising in the east. All the light and color was gone from her room now as she tried to remember the face on the Being of Light, that had looked at her with deep peace in the green eyes, as she stepped outside and stared at the rising moon, caught in the trees on the nearby hill. She could not remember the writing on the scroll but did remember all her feelings being pervaded with love, a blue and green ripple at her heart center. Surely this loving experience would bring her patience, peace and understanding. She wanted to hold on to this delight and beauty so badly. She thought she might share it with the Druid Bernie the next time she saw him. The end.
Rose is still curious about the buzzards in the dormer window down the street. They were there when she went by on her bike, this week, one roosting on the window, his tail inside, and his chest outside. The other one was resting about a foot lower on a ledge, in the open sunshine. That morning it was above freezing and they were delighted with the warmth on their black feathers. Rose was delighted, as she stopped and talked up to them. She too felt warm in the many layers of what she was seeing.
Rose had a dream situation where she remembered a dream during the night and went over it several times, as she had loads of details and it was interesting to her then. It was totally lost by the morning, except for the memory of having a dream. She knew it was in her brain someplace.
Next day she took out a leaflet and started drawing that dream, using her usual tricks to get a drawing done without too much conscious thought about it. She used plenty of color. It was a teacup mandala, small but very colorful. She had to leave it at that, as the dream did not come back to her then. However that night as soon as she woke up after 2.00 a.m. part of that dream flipped into her mind. She smiled broadly recognizing the detail from the night before.
She did not know what it meant but brought it to her sisters in dream group who went over it from every angle and came away with a few different possibilities.
Her addiction to sugar was a focus for Rose. There are natural laws that have to be taken into consideration and if she breaks them by overdoing her sugars, it puts a stress on those organs involved in breaking it down and using it and getting rid of it.
As she ages, it is an important consideration. Her father’s hand in the sugar bowl, every time he passes it comes to mind. Rose has taken to putting away those tray of nice sweet things more of the time, and not using sugars at all some of the time. In her classes she meets sweet people who know how to do that with alcohol and are a light to others who want to do the same.
Another dream sister pointed out the need to be careful with handling the sureness, and power that a spiritual life can bring, to not get inflated about the whole business, to stand firm in temptation of using the energies for self, for wrongdoing.
I have the jar of what is a sweet power but also destructive power. A feeling of infallibility, inflation, a pope in myself comes upon me. This power can be destructive as has happened to popes down through the ages.
Another dream sister says that jar of sweet things Rose was given by the cabiri figure, dressed in brown, small of stature, as something to take home from that dream feast, a gift. She will know if she is using those sweet thing in the wrong way if she finds herself coveting the fields of home, or if she finds herself nearer home, railing against another, denouncing leaders, neighbors near and far and criticizing intimate opposites. She has to make sure she is not polishing up her own horns by such activity, golden for sure but on the wrong side of where she wants to go. So fun to consider, making the center of her more solid. Thank you dreamers.
If you have a small group of gatherers who need to do a workshop on dreams and work through a dream leaflet, and get my dream booklet of dream leaflets, be sure to contact me though this site or on Psychology Today. It is always a great pleasure to be in such creative dreaming company. Love from Rose.