Tag: own dream

My father joined Facebook and is very upset that I keep posting articles that question authorities and are, in his mind, unfounded and not well researched. I wait for a while, and then respond that they are often from the New York Times, the Guardian and other respected sources, and that I do consider the reliability of the sources.

It’s true that I am sometimes drawn to articles questioning and exposing abuse of power in different ways, and I have wondered if this has to do with my (beliefs about) my parents and especially my father.

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.

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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.

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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 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.

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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 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.

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In my dream, I was told they were out of Norwegian dreams so I would have an English one instead – in the English language and set in England. Then I had that dream.

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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”.

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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.

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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?

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I am with MB, and we are finding reconciliation. She has softened her view on me and found resolution for herself, and I am similarly ripe, so it happens quiet easily and is beautiful. I lie down, she puts her head on my chest.

In waking life MB is a close friend from twenty years ago who disconnected without telling me why.

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.

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I am away for a while, and my partner has given our cat to someone else. I go to see who he lives with, and it’s a terrible family for him. They don’t treat him as a soul and there is too much going on.

This is the cat from Wisconsin which I had a very close and soulful connection with 

There is war, and my large mansion is made into a hospital. I am a Japanese medical doctor and am supposed to be interned, but am somehow able to work as a doctor in my old home.

This must be during WWII in the US. Will stay with the dream and see what comes up.

The whole house – with all it’s contents – is gone in a natural disaster. I live with some other refugees.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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I am friends with Clint Eastwood and Dale Dye. It feels natural and easy and I don’t think much about it, until later when I realize I should ask for Clint’s autograph.

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I am building a house for my family (wife and children) and my father is helping me.

This is how it could have been in real life, had I made other choices. It felt good, grounded, simple, caring.

As I woke up, the contrast between what could have been and what is was very clear.

I am organizing and leading a TRE workshop. A great number of people attend. I am a little nervous before we start, and recognize it is just out of old habit. There is an undercurrent of an earthy calm fullness, and I drop into it as soon as we start.

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I am in a rural community, and in a small community building that’s only about a third full. We are waiting for David Copperfield, and I am shocked there are not more people there. The organizers have done a very poor job promoting the event – they thought it wasn’t needed since he is famous. David Copperfield arrives, takes one look at the room, and decides to not perform. He had expected his usual type of venue, and his usual number of audience members. Some in the audience are very disappointed. I sit there thinking that I when I did that type of job, I was much better at it. I could get 5,000-6,000 people, at least, for David Copperfield.

My conscious attitude in the dream is I could do a much better job promoting this, which is true when it comes to these types of events. (I did it in the sustainability world, but the promotion is the same.) So apart from sitting there feeling smug, how does this dream relate to me?

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Some friends talk about vast conspiracies and impending crack-down, limited freedoms and war. I listen for a while to hear what they say, then mock them. But then it happens, exactly as they had described it, and I find myself without support. There is no phone, no internet, very limited transportation (only local and very expensive), I have very little money and no income, and there is no tap water. With the new rule, there is also a great risk I will be imprisoned (or beaten up or killed) for my views. Even within the first few hours on the first day, a man takes a large bribe for not turning me in.

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