I have removed my skull and apply heat to it in an attempt to make it stronger. A doctor is quite concerned and recommends against it. I return the skull to it’s place. It was quite clear the whole time that this was a futile attempt.
I am in a Spanish speaking town or neighborhood, and unable to get back to where I am staying. It’s getting late, I am slightly concerned for my camera and wallet, so try to find a safe place. I go down a set of steps into a shaft or basement of some sort, realize I won’t be able to get up until dawn, and also that it’s not safer than anywhere else.
I met a young woman and we find a beautiful connection the first day. Then we lose connection, and find each other some time later. She has an injury.
I didn’t write down more after I woke up, and as I write this- some days later – I don’t remember more details. What I do remember is a beautiful soul connection, and that we reconnected. She had an injury, and it had no impact on our beautiful connection. It’s of course what happens when (a) I consciously connect with an aspect of reality or a part of me, one that brings up a sense of soul connection, (b) then “forget” that connection, and (c) rediscover it. And that’s a quite familiar process to me.
Everyone knows the world – or at least our lives – will end in a few days. Many people are out in the streets with family and friends, enjoying themselves. It’s a relaxed and sober atmosphere. I am on my own, and decide to visit B.K. & P. W. who I haven’t seen since Wisconsin. It turns out they live in a quite beautiful and interesting intentional community, created by an Indian guru. I see some Buddhist texts there.
The world will end in a few days, and everyone knows it. The atmosphere is relaxed, sober, and people enjoy themselves and spend time with family and friends, mostly outdoors so they also can experience sun, wind, air, the red and yellow fall leaves. I knew BK and PT from my sustainability work in Wisconsin, and experienced a deep sense of community there and with them.
The world will end. Does it mean that my world – as it is now – will end? Will something shift so my world, as I know it now, will end? The dream may be a reminder that this is already happening anyway, or it may point to a more obvious shift. In the dream, there is a shared knowing that the world will end, and people are relaxed and spend the remaining time with people important to them, enjoying everyday life for the few remaining days.
For the second part of the dream, I notice a longing for community, for the one I had in Wisconsin, and for some of the ones I have visited (Findhorn, Vækstcenteret) and know about .
Day residue: A conversation about projections and apocalyptic scenarios, and looking at a book including intentional communities.
I am attending an outdoors Church event, and as part of a ceremony we all have brought cards with Christ-related imagery. Afterwards, a guy comes up to me and tells me that the image on my card didn’t fit his theology. I ask him do you really think God can be defined by theology? and then move on.
I am not sure what this dream is about, other than showing me more direct and outspoken than I sometimes am in waking life. Normally, I would listen politely, thank him, and move on. In the dream, I listened briefly, said what was on my mind, and then moved on. I didn’t say all of what I thought – that it’s absurd, and a bit childish, to think that God can be defined by or confined within the limits of any theology, this was reflected in how I said what I did. Thoughts create boundaries and generalize, and reality is more than and different from anything a thought can point to.
The theology enthusiast also reflects me, of course. Whenever I hold onto a thought as true, I create my own theology. I even worship that thought as a god. In my mind, reality – including me – is confined to what fits the thought, and whatever doesn’t fit is ignored or explained away.
I am aware I am dreaming, and it’s clear to me that living in a kind way and with integrity is what’s most kind to me, whether it’s a dream or waking life.
I don’t remember much of the content of this dream, and in any case, in the dream it was clear that how I relate to myself and others in it was primary.
I am with a group and we go to a new ageish bookstore in an old caste. It’s a form of a gathering or party. I see two strong guys ganging up against another, bullying him. Many sees it but don’t seem to want to get involved. I shout hey, cut it out, knowing the bullies may turn against me. They look at me.
I speak out against a powerful and wealthy man. He had hoped to have me join his group, instead I was honest, said what I saw, and spoke out against him. He set his people on me with the intention of beating me but I was able to escape. His men came after me a second time, and I again tried to escape.
In both cases, I spoke up against bullies, and in both cases I knew and was willing to take the possible consequences. It was worth it. In both cases, the dream also ended before anything happened. And the second dream was more of a third person dream, where the main character is someone else (although a bit similar to me in age and personality), and there is no “I” in the dream apart from the “camera”. Both dreams had quite similar themes, and were quite rich, detailed and vivid, as a well made movie.
I and a few friends move down a stream and clean it up. Among other things, I use a hose to flush away cat and bird poop. At one point, the pressure on the water is a bit low, but it still works and it picks up again.
In the dream, it’s clear that this a job we want to do. It feels right. It’s unpleasant at times, and yet it feels good to do it. I have an image of how the stream will be after it’s cleaned up, the water flows more freely, and plants and animals return more fully. It’s quite beautiful, refreshing, and full of life.
I am hunted by a large police force, and seek escape first in my own house (which used to be owned by J’s parents, a childhood friend), then with a friend or acquaintance who has a type of hotel or spa on the top floor of a building in Oslo. I know I will be caught relatively soon no matter what I do.
I am one of several guests in a large, old and quite distinguished house. Somehow, it seems to belong to my family and partly me. We are there for a gathering over a few days, which includes socializing and food. My room is on the second or third floor, and as I descend the stairs, I notice and comment that they seem a bit creaky. The next day, they are closed for repair and our only way down to the ground floor is through a large hole in the floor and a rickety ladder. I remember my fear of heights, and it’s OK, I still use the ladder. Later in the day, I stand on the ladder gathering some things of mine on the floor of the second level. Several people wait to descend, get impatient, and start using the ladder. I climb down, a small boy climbs onto the ladder above me, and the ladder with us on it falls to the floor. There is a sharp sound as the boy falls to the floor. I am OK, walk over and ask the boy if he is OK, and he says yes. I then go to my hosts and tell them that this is not working. Either they repair and open the stars again, give me a room on the first (ground) floor, or I will leave.
I am looking at an old car participating in a race. It’s from the early 1900s, may be a bit modified, and runs on coal. The assistant leaves, and the driver encourages me to take over for the rest of the race. I agree, and discover there are only a few lumps of coal left in addition to a portion of smaller wood pieces. It’s enough to keep us going, but not as fast as if we had coal. We stop by a large and old stone building where there is a large group of people I have a connection with, and I ask if any of them have coal. Several go off to get some. We proceed with the race before they have returned.
I am with two friends of mine who attend a teaching by a Tibetan master. He has a clarity and depth I have rarely seen in anyone. Afterwards, he comes up to me. I get the sense he sees something in me, assume I do the same, so he doesn’t need to address it verbally or even nonverbally. After we talk for a bit, there is a sense that he sees us as the same, cut from the same piece so to speak, and is slightly surprised when he realizes I don’t recognize it the same way. To him, I – at one level – pretend to be confused and in pain, and it’s just a temporary confusion. He refers to a couple of books he has written, out of a set of six. He then says: There is a fear among us Moby Dicks that the pain of contraction will be too much.
I become friends with a young man, and he says he wants to tell me something he hasn’t told anyone before. He takes me aside, and does a very impressive performance that involves yoga and other movements. He then reveals – to my astonishment – that he is made up of seven little people. They each make up parts of the body, are hidden under the clothes, and have practiced their whole life in making up one person. They then repeat that I am the first one they have revealed this to, and say they sometimes appear as two female twins as well.
I stay at a beautiful co-housing community oriented towards sustainability and eco-spirituality. John Seed, the Australian deep-ecologist and rain forest activist is here to hold a workshop over a few days. At the beginning of the workshop, we are all given an onion in a jar filled with nutritious water, and we are to plant it in a larger pot. I see that some only use the nutritious water and others add soil. I ask a woman next to me about it and she says we can add soil if we feel we need or want more grounding. I add several handfuls of moist, dark, crumbly soil.
I am at a place that’s similar to a traditional Japanese temple complex. I have been there for a while, studying and enjoying myself, and as not many others are there I have played music while studying outside and inside of the different buildings. I realize that since there are several ghosts there, I would like ask them what type of music they would prefer to listen to. I ask a small group of ghosts in conversation with each other, and they don’t seem to pay much attention to me. I even list a few of the categories – classical, Native American, pop – to invite a response. Then I move on, asking more ghosts, but none seem very interested. I get the impression that they are used to being ignored, so when I initiate contact and ask for their input, they just continue whatever they were doing without paying much attention to me.
I told someone about ho’oponopono. She came back to me a few days later, very excited, and said it worked great. She really enjoyed saying the simple sentences:
I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. And fresh celery
I realized that after telling her about ho’o, I had mentioned I was dropping off some fresh celery for a friend, and she must have thought it was part of the practice.
I realize that my brother is selling off most or all of his comic books and regular books from his childhood and teens, and has included many of my books as well. I am slightly disturbed and begin saving some of them for nostalgic reasons, and also realize I haven’t read or missed them since my childhood and teens.
I wonder if this has to do with my inquiries on my childhood and teens? There is a sense of cherished stories about that time falling away simply because they are revealed as not true. It’s also interesting that I am not selling them off, someone else does, and that’s the experience in inquiry as well.
Day residue: I am going to a flea market this morning, and may buy some comic books (Tintin).
I sense that this really powerful aspect of the Christ, the one that carries the sword is the next really powerful archetype that is about to unfold for the collective.
– from an email from Barry responding to my dream about the white wolf.
Here is something very simple that comes up for me around the white wolf and Christ with a sword:
Through Tension/Trauma Release Exercises (TRE), tension and trauma is released from the body. A facet of this process is a reorganization of me at all levels – mental, emotional, energetic and physical – in a way that is more natural and healthy, wise and kind. And this more healthy and natural functioning includes (what appears as) the most primal aspects of me, the ones that have an earlier evolutionary origin.
Through inquiry, there is more clarity around thoughts, and this also opens up for a more natural, healthy, wise and kind functioning. Some of these beliefs are very basic and form my perception about life and death, me and the world, survival and so on. And these and any other beliefs create my whole world. They filter, label and interpret perception. They create emotions, the appearance of instincts, and even what appears as the most primal impulses. So when there is more clarity around these thoughts, even what appears as most primal in me is more aligned with reality (Spirit). It functions in a more healthy and natural way, in a way that looks more kind and wise. The primal aspects of me are more aligned with reality, and – in a certain sense – are more in service of reality awake to itself.
So the white wolf can be seen as the primal impulses aligned with reality. And Christ with a sword can be seen as Christ functioning through a human self where more of the most primal is more aligned with reality. (I use the word “more” since I assume it’s an ongoing process for anyone, even – or perhaps especially – for those where there is more clarity.)
I am attending a long-distance cross country skiing event with a team. I go for a while, then rest in a comfortable vehicle while others on the team go. It’s night. I shift between feeling overwhelmed by thinking of the very long distances we are going, seeing it’s been OK so far, and suspecting the feelings of overwhelm and exhaustion may be created by my thoughts about it being exhausting in the future.
I am invited to be the guest of the king and queen of Norway for a few days, and we enjoy a good connection. As part of the visit, I am invited to a Sunday morning church service. It’s a small and beautiful church. I arrive early. As I look for the toilets, I see a large mirror on a wall and a white wolf appears in it. It moves around in the mirror looking at me very intently, as if it wants to convey something to me. I get the sense that it has been expecting me.
The image of an old woman with white hair replaces the wolf. She grimaces at me. Another church goer comes up next to me, also on his way to the bathroom. He has been coming to the church regularly and is familiar with the woman. She now appears in the form of white smoke up under the ceiling, still scowling and grimacing at us.
I decide to find a seat, and three class mates (A., T, S-E) from elementary and middle school comes and sit down next to me. Only I and S-E sing.
(a) I become good friends with the king and queen. We enjoy an easy connection and have much in common. (b) The white wolf in the mirror was beautiful, strong, and had a fierce determination. There was a clear sense that it had been expecting me and wanted to convey something to me, although the time wasn’t quite ripe yet. This was an initial contact. (c) The old woman replacing the wolf brought up some fear in me. She was a ghost, and appeared as white smoke in the room when the other man came. He and the other church goers were used to it and unshaken. (d) My three school mates arriving was a surprise to me. One (A.) was/is (?) an atheist. I am not sure if T. is or not. And S-E had/has a good heart so I was less surprised to see him there. We are the only two who sing along to the hymns. The church itself was small and very beautiful, a jewel of a church.
After waking up, I explore the image of the white wolf. It feels powerful and important, and is somehow very moving for me. The white wolf is strong, independent, primal and with a fierce determination. I get a sense it’s a primal aspect of Christ – fierce and completely at home in the body. It feels a bit overwhelming, and I wonder if the old woman appearing to replace it represents my fears. I used to be quite afraid of ghosts as a child, and that fear surfaced in the dream again. There is a sense that the white wolf is there only for me (at this time), and the ghost is familiar to everyone.
Beliefs about the white wolf, the fierce primal aspect of Christ fully at home in the body:
It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. I am not ready. It will demand too much of me. My life will change too much. I don’t know how to bring it in/live from it. I need to know how to bring it in/live from it.
Beliefs about the ghost:
I need to know what/who she is. She is scary to me. She can harm me.
Childhood beliefs about ghosts:
They are scary, unknown. I don’t want to meet them. They can harm me. They represent something dark.
Day residue: I read about The Quest for the Unicorn a few days ago, and thought about it again last night, especially how unicorns often represent Christ. Before going to sleep, I listened a bit to chapter 15 of The Order of the Phoenix where Sirius Black’s mother appears in a picture, screaming.
I am in a war (in the Balkans?) as an observer with a group of others. The setting is very bleak. A group of freed hostages are without food. I don’t see any direct war activities, only the effects of the war.
I am in South America and am accused of smuggling drugs. The authorities (of Inka descent) know I am innocent, and yet are determined to have me convicted and executed. During a brief escape, I meet my Norwegian family and friends who don’t understand how serious it is. They assume I will be acquitted if I am innocent.
I am a man in my 50s or 60s in a small town in the mountains near the west coast of Norway. My younger brother, another man I don’t know very well, and I are having a cup of coffee, something to eat and a good conversation. I tell the new man about the village and the nature around here, about some fishing trips and other things. As I am about to leave, I find myself still sitting there. I remember I am dead (I drowned the summer before in a mountain lake while out in my rowboat). I also notice that my brother is about to laugh since I intended to leave but still find myself sitting there, and that the new man may scare himself as he realizes I am dead. A little while passes. I am not sure what to do, so I say “boo”.
I am at an art gallery in Oslo with an artist friend of mine and another person, and we are having a good conversation. A woman who manages the gallery is upset with us and tells us to climb down. I look down and realize I am on the top of a ladder which symbolizes the steps to heaven. The top steps are quite delicate and the bottom ones larger and made out of silver with some ornamentation on the lower part. As we reach the floor, the woman realizes we are with the artist who made the ladder and apologizes.
I am at the same place, playing a game with friends. I wander off briefly, get distracted, and they are gone when I return. One has left a message that she is upset with me for getting distracted by something else.
I am at a public event where I am about to speak. Someone tells me my son is there and would like to speak with me. I am shocked to realize I have completely forgotten about him. He is rightly quite upset with me for neglecting him for so long, and I commit to be a better father. He is quite small and amphibian, perhaps from lack of attention from my side.
When I explore this through active imagination, he grows taller and quite beautiful through receiving attention and love. He seems to be a part of me that connects with spirit or God in a more intimate and personal way. This was alive for me prior to my time at the Zen center, and now may be returning. He may be amphibian since we all are, in a sense (aquatic animals), during gestation. I notice that this unfolding of the active imagination seems a bit too “nice” so I would like to revisit it.
I am at a cafe in an old town in Italy (?). As I briefly walk away from my table, a man runs off with my camera and wallet. I am unsettled by the experience. Later, I am in my own house in the same town, and see a hooded figure looking at me through a window and a doorway. He disappears as I approach him. This repeats several times, and I shout who are you?
There was a computer on a stand which I was sharing with people I’ve known from different times of my life. It was busy with people coming and going, checking their email, etc. Next to the computer stand was a staircase that led to an open trapdoor into Italy. People dressed in flamboyant colors and styles, talking and laughing loudly, were coming up and down the stairs. I saw P. in the room~he looked very young and lithe, as if he were in his twenties, although he was his current age. We greeted each other and sat down on a sofa to get caught up on our lives.“I’m so happy about this staircase to Italy,” P. told me, “since I now have three Italian girlfriends!”“Three?! ” I said. “Do they know about each other?”“Oh yes, they certainly do,” he said, smirking. “And here, let me show you what it’s like!” He began shaking violently, rocking the sofa and causing me to shake, too.When he was finished, he said to me intensely, “Rachael, you’re only visual and mental in your perceptions of the world. There are so many other ways to experience being alive!”
I became angry and yelled “Oh, quit your new-age bullshit, P.! The visual and mental are perfectly fine ways of experiencing the world.” By now many of the others in the room had turned around to watch.
I live in an apartment building and am about to take the elevator down. It’s an open paternoster elevator. A woman waits with me and steps out too soon so she falls down. I am certain she will be killed. My fear of heights surface. She then floats up safely, only to be nearly crushed by another elevator. A small group of people appear and one of the pushes the red stop button for the elevators. It seems it was all a test to see how I would react, and I see I froze due to my fear of heights and also because of frozen parts of me here and now – initially frozen in childhood.
Some beliefs to look at:
I will fall. I will die. It’s terrible to die. If I die, it means something is wrong. I will miss out (of life, experiences) if I die now.
I am responsible for helping. I should have done something. She expected me to help her.
It’s safer to be numb/frozen. I am safer if I hold back/am passive. I am safer if others don’t see/notice me.
I am interviewing, getting to know, and reviewing the life of an amazing person, who is me and not me. He or she works with a number of other people on research projects relating to art, art history, photography, architecture, sociology, biology, ecology and sustainability. I am shown their research projects, which are very familiar to me and yet not.
About to review a turning point in this person’s life, I pass a lake I swam in often as a child. The water is there, and yet not. Initially, I walk on the bottom of the lake and look up. It’s beautiful with clean sand, and I can see the fish swimming and the plants on the bottom and floating on the surface. Then I swim under water, as if there is water there while it’s also not. I don’t need to surface to breathe. This is apparently how this person functions, and it’s very familiar while also not. It’s my life, and it’s as if I am just reminded of it.
Going back to a turning point in this person’s life, I see that he is a man and his life has stagnated a bit. He has done art and much more, and the zest has gone out of his life. A woman comes, who is partly physical and partly not. She floats as she arrives. She is partly him and partly not. They were originally one, then had separate lives, and now she returns. He had forgotten they were one, and also now remembers. They are now one and not, and benefit from their combined experience and abilities, and do amazing work – both inner work and in the world. As she arrives, she reminds him how she can benefit him by touching a woman who is his client, and supporting her to be comfortable in a way he was initially not able to. This person has had and will have an amazingly rich life, both inner life and in the world, physically and not, as man and woman and both and neither. There is a fullness and richness here as rich as the world, and a freedom in that richness.
I easily and quickly pass through a large public obstacle course. It’s early in the morning and few others have started. On the other side, I decide to return and go through it the other way. I realize the obstacle course is far more difficult and challenging than I first thought. About half way, looking down at a tall vertical wall, I decide to take a break. I find some friends there and get into a different adventure with them (inside of an old mansion part of the course). And there is the awareness that I can just leave the obstacle course. I don’t have to go through it again either way.
I am in a field in the countryside south of Moscow. It’s late fall. Frost on the ground. The sun is just about to rise. There is a farm house some distance away. I know I am followed and about to be executed – shot in the head – in that house. I also know why. I oppose the planned violence of a larger faction of the anarchists and consider exposing them.
A map shows two terrains, and a voice says that I am at the end of a long, confusing and overwhelming phase, and at the beginning of the fourth which has to do with living from integrity. Then it says that the size of the previous one was a thousand by a thousand, while the next one is a hundred by a hundred.
In succession, I am each of the groups of people in Japan – the workers at the nuclear plant, the owners of the plant, the people displaced by the tsunami, people as they are killed in the tsunami, the rest of the people in Japan, the land quaking and the ocean rising as a tsunami.
Bombs are dropped over Libya, and as they hit the target, the bombs and the target and everything else dissolves.
I am in a beautiful coastal landscape with ridges and rivers leading out to the ocean. I am with a woman and a small group of people. After spending some time together, she decides to be with me and leave another man, because it is – as she says – a path with a heart.
I am in an old town and Alder F. is going to lead a series of workshops. He has a plot, but it’s an old cemetery with just a few graves. He asks me to dig them up and remove the bones etc. so the space is usable. I am reluctant. My inclination is to clean up the appearance of the graves, place candles there, perhaps have a Christian ceremony since they are Christian graves.
I am now in a more residential area. A lively young woman lives in a house there, with her sister next door. She asks me if I can dig out and remove a few graves there so she can use the space for gatherings and events. Again, I am reluctant. I am partly concerned about what I’ll find, and partly don’t want to disturb the dead.
I am a Russian intellectual and anarchist in the 1860s. Facets of my life are clear to me: I participate in the intellectual and artistic scene in Russia and Paris, and I am opposed to the violent strategies of some fellow anarchists. I have spoken up and decide to do what I can to stop them. This morning, I run across a winter field somewhere south of Moscow. A farm house is ahead of me. I am pursued by fellow anarchists. Later in the day, they catch up with me and I am shot in the head.