It was Friday night, of JMU’s homecoming weekend, and I went to bed early as usual. I had a busy day and early start so I was ready for some lie down. But the party across the road, was only coming into full swing. Earlier I saw a guy cutting the grass, another going in and out of the basement. Cars came full of coolers. 

There are eight apartments in the house. The bank took it from an old lady that used to house the poor, homeless and the mentally ill, among othrs. There used to be cardboard boxes in some of the down stairs windows. My daughter called it a crack house when she saw it first. It stayed vacant for about two years. What marvelous quiet. Now it looks fine on the outside and noisy at times like this.

The lights were down low; the upper story with a roof over the front porch was dotted with people. There was a steady stream of people in and out of the basement and each time the basement door was dropped it crashed loudly. Music came out of there that had a beat that could only be described as disharmonic. It rounded itself out way below the ground and only found its way through, out of there, through those who were imbibing far too much of what is not too good for them.

Cars came by the dozen, dropping and picking up people. I slept after 3.00 am until 8 am when the last of the people, some with occasional shouting and screaming,  were heard to leave, having discovered the loss of something that was precious.  

Trying to do meditation in the middle of this mess is wearing and the relentless noise over eighteen hours is hard on the psyche. I wonder what the lesson is for me; that I need to party a little more, acknowledge my dissonance and spend a little time, a little tipsy on the roof!

The intersection where I live at the corner of two streets, is the place of many accidents and I had a purposeful idea to imagine angels on the four corners so that it would not happen any more. It has been a while since I heard that loud bang of two cars coming together. I prefer not to hear it ever. If it happens, the city comes and does clean it up in a matter of hours leaving nothing but a little bit of a light in the hedge, a piece of metal, a small smatter of glass that is left to catch the evening sunlight.

I am at an intersection in my own life again, after four years in a committed relationship. We will stay friends. I am sad of course but feel compelled to move this way.

Getting into the intersection happened quiet suddenly and we are now spending out last nights together. I blame the last full moon, and moving upstairs into a newly completed attic space. Apparently the four roads opened up for me in that space and hopefully there I will find the up and down direction, down into mother earth, into the ball of the iron core in which sits the crystal of life and out into the universe, where her crystals sit in the center of all the bright objects out there.

I had this dream I was at the local box office for the Court Square Threat. I am at the grill, getting my ticket. There is a crush of people all around me and my feet have become locked in place. A hand reaches in to my shoulder and extricates me. I think that the hand is of one of my former teachers at JMU but when I look into his face I find he is a man I do not know with a shock of dark hair over his face on one side and he has a shy smile.

This is a depiction of my animus, my inner man. I am delighted to see him, both in my dream and when I wake up. I take it that my decision to live on my own is a good one, as it somehow unlocks my feet, my understanding. The support of such a one is romantic, profoundly helpful. He seems to know what to do. Oh how we love a man who knows what to do, about something that is locking us down. Inner man, inner man of course.

This dream man represents the hero, as he rescued me..

My massage therapist dreamed of a wonderful nettle pesto. My mother gathered nettles up and put them in soups and mashed potatoes. She fed them to delicate turkeys before eating the turkeys’s for Christmas. She believed them to be very purifying, the nettle I mean.

My dreamer wondered what to do about her dream. She knew where the nettles grew and I encouraged her to gather them together to the making of a great pesto and to invite me over and we could look into the dream together over dinner. I think the fact there is a pesto mentioned with the nettles, may mean that the body would benefit from an oil combined with nettles. I like to drink nettle tea when I can and a dreamer once gave me a 2 oz. bottle of nettle tincture in exchange for some dream interpretation. I though I made out well in that instance. The liquid was a bright green.

I dreamed of the photographer, at my wedding forty years ago, last night. I like to take photographs myself. Another male handsome man coming in the dreams to me who did something creative for me back then. I know little of his life now except he likes to dance as an interest. Perhaps I can look at those photos he took as I started my married life back then. Forty years ago I was buying my wedding dress. Hopefully the marriage within will come in its own good time. The dreamer man encourages me to bookend my forty years of marriage, in a quiet, peaceful way.

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Likes and comments are greatly appreciated. Happy dreaming and where ever you find yourself in life, may you stay in touch with all that is pure crystal, ready to get into the crossroads of the up and down movement of energy. May you be full of the love of life. Love from Rose.