Friday, April 18, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: P for Partnership

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

Last night I thought about the concept of partnership, which is something I struggle with, as I don't work well with others. When I think of being supported, I associate that with being indebted and an uncomfortable feeling that I'm taking without giving anything in return. When I think of being supportive, I associate that with enabling victimhood--being a crutch for someone instead of letting them learn on their own. I know there's a healthier way to do both, but that knowledge is intellectual, not practical or embodied.

I did remember some dream-bits, but I couldn't quite surface enough to write them down and I lost them. The only part I remember is that there was a banana cream pie of great significance--that my dad and a couple other people and I were analyzing it, praising it, and then when I broached the subject of actually eating it, it felt like sacrilege.

I could perhaps say that it was precognitive, because today my parents took my kids out and they ended up going to Baker's Square and bringing home some pie, which I just ate. It was apple, though, and I had no problems digging in.

Anyway. Let's put this dream aside and look again at how the lucid dream of real life reflects our thought-forms just as much as the astral-life that goes on when we sleep. My best friend Beth is in the hospital today getting surgery on her finger. Yesterday we talked on the phone, and I realized that she's probably the only person I know who really understands what I'm talking about when I say that I changed realities--that I brought my consciousness from one alternate reality into another. We spoke of how reframing one's past can completely change it--so we can see everything that happened in a different light, one that shapes a different person who creates out of a belief system 180 degrees from where they were before. We have free will--which means that both past and future are malleable.

And I thought about how Beth was with me every single day the last couple months of my first pregnancy, when my husband was stuck in Brazil without a visa. And she came for my labor (I did a home-birth), grounded me, kept my spirits up, and kept me apprised of the time while I was in labor because I wanted my son to be born with moon in Scorpio rather than in Libra. She spent the night after my son was born, even though I'd insisted I would be fine handling things by myself. I don't remember what she did, but I know I needed her.

I gave birth to my second son in Brazil. It turned out my husband was not a good birth partner. I asked him to hold my hand during labor, but he couldn't stay in the room with me; it was too traumatic for him. After the birth, he kept shutting my bedroom door to give me privacy--although privacy wasn't what I wanted--and I spent several days mostly in isolation with my baby, unable to get up easily and unable to call for help because no one could hear me. Something in my heart closed down then, and I saw my belief that being supported wasn't desirable validated anew. I held onto this pain, and that closing down spread into past and future and reinforced a certain way of being which has been more real to me until now than the other experience.

Anyway. The way to change past and future is by focusing on the streams of reality in which we see a different truth. Remembering that I do know how to feel supported without feeling indebted, and that I know how to support--because even though my friend isn't nearby, I can hold a space for her, and that's enough. Focusing on the concept of embodied understanding of mutual support is enough to open myself to a past and future stream in which I create according to that understanding.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: O for Organization

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

I couldn't really think of anything I wanted to do for O, so as I lay in bed I thought vaguely about making my life more organized--I was sort of visualizing my life in linear compartments so it would be easier to create and measure progress.

Okay. So here's the dream; there's some themes that repeat, which is always exciting:
I was moving somewhere with my sister Tina. I arranged a bunch of her bottles carefully in two bags and placed them in the passenger seat floor of the car, hoping she would appreciate it. Then when we got to our destination, she neglected to bring the bags inside, even though the car was boiling hot and one of the things in the bags was a container of milk that would certainly spoil. I knew that if the milk made a mess I'd be the one to suffer, but I was unwilling to bring the bags in for her because it was her stuff and I didn't want to do her work for her when she wouldn't appreciate my efforts.
In our new place, there were two toilets, but both of them were like large versions of toddler potties. Tina had used the one I'd been using, and that bothered me, so I washed the other one for my use. I didn't want to share potties.
Then I walked in the park while I waited for Tina to get out of her class. I heard a deep voice in the gardens and had a conversation with a deity. I changed gods from one named "Heem" to one named "Roam." I felt much more at peace. Later, someone wrote a letter to the press about what I'd experienced, and they were asking for proof. I was thinking of ways to send in scientific proof of my divine experience.
I was picking Tina up at 10pm. She fell asleep on the vehicle next to me; a friend of hers walked by. I said "Hi" in an excessively cheery voice. The friend responded, but she looked at Tina, wanting her hello--but Tina continued to sleep.
Funny thing about Tina showing up in my dream as a major character--it's her birthday today. Aside from the sisterly rivalry coloring the dream, there is a theme of dualities here that I can see--measuring one thing as better than another. Although they ultimately have the same value, choosing one over another is what creates both the movement and the emotional friction.



Dreaming from A-Z II: N for Namaste

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

Last night was kind of another dream fail--I was planning to meditate on the word "namaste"--which means, roughly, "the divine in me bows to the divine in you," and I wanted to apply it by thinking of various people in my life and trying to look at them as divine spark rather than any of the personality issues I might be having with them.

Instead, I got into a distracting text conversation, fell asleep forgetting completely about the challenge, and only remembered a bit of dream in which I took out my mouth guard and found I'd been biting into it more deeply than usual. Obviously, one of those pieces of dream that's just an extension of a waking experience.

Still, I could easily apply the concept of "namaste" to my waking hours. I feel like the last few weeks I spent in a different reality, and then the last couple days I snapped out of it--but found that my new reality, even though similar to Reality #1, had shifted to Reality #3 as a result of being influenced by Reality #2. And although the characters are mostly the same in all three realities (with the exception of one character who appeared in #2 and played a major role but whom I'm not actually sure exists outside of it), my relationship to each character is entirely different in each reality. The divine spark is all that remains the same; personalities and relationships are infinitely malleable.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: M for Mooladhara

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

Mooladhara is the Sanskrit word for the root chakra. In the female body, it lies on the posterior side of the cervix. So before I went to sleep I focused on opening up the "psychic knot" that lies in this chakra (through contracting the pelvic floor) and breathing up through the opening to encourage the free flow of cosmic light through my central channel. Why would I want to do this? Well, it's in order to evolve my consciousness. Why would I want to do that? Well, the more you radiate cosmic light, the higher your vibration, the less you become crystallized into matter. And the more you're light and less matter, the more easily you are a cause and not an effect in your own universe, and your thought-forms become very powerful and easily manifested.

Despite all that lovely esoteric philosophy, my dreams were kind of lame last night. I only recall singing along to the music of a Star Trek movie, and then I gave someone a bj. I don't think these dreams are even deserving of an interpretation, so I'll leave it at that and hope for something more educational on tonight's astral.


Monday, April 14, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: L for Love

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

Last night I thought about someone I loved who is not with me, and I asked what was preventing me from having that feeling more consistently in my life. Here's the dream:
I went up the big bridge instead of the two smaller ones by accident. This one was much steeper and more dangerous--so steep that I had to cling to railings and haul myself up hand over hand. When I made it to the top, it became a roller coaster, whizzing through cold air and snow.
My friend I. was morose because she had cancer.
I needed to mail a piece of paper about a house I was buying. My friend G.'s sister R. was my real estate agent, and I made small talk to her, then I pulled on a pair of navy blue pants labeled size PS and said "What the fuck?" because they were so enormous they hung like a tent around me. R. started to laugh really hard, and I joined her, and it was so funny we couldn't even make a sound--we just laughed in silence. G. was morose in the corner because she had cancer, and she didn't laugh. 
So the most obvious interpretation is that I'm holding onto anger (the cancer) which is preventing me from creating love. Bridges are important decisions, critical junctions; roller coasters are erratic behavior, changes, life's ups and downs. I chose the big one, so either I'm working on a big change or I'm particularly erratic lately (which is true). Humor helps, and making solid decisions helps--but there's still the anger hovering in the background, morose. 



Saturday, April 12, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: K for Karma

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

I couldn't decide on my topic last night for the letter K. I was in a terrible mood due to an interaction with someone, so I thought about K for kicking him...then I thought maybe I should focus on something more positive, like K for knowledge, and I feverishly read a few pages of William Meader's Shine Forth: The Soul's Magical Destiny. Could not concentrate. Finally decided my theme would be karma, and I held the space of all the chaos and anger and falling-apart-ness of my evening and said that my dream would be about the whys and wherefores, the cause and effect, the karma of all the CRAP.

I actually got more than six hours of sleep and it seems seven+ is the jackpot for hitting a 2nd REM cycle, which feels a little more surface than the 1st and is thus easier to recall. Here's what I remember:
My kids had a doll that I determined was possessed, as I kept seeing it move, cackling, threatening, being generally creepy. I kept giving in to urges to slam its ceramic head repeatedly on the floor, and then it broke. I felt a little guilty because I'd broken my sons' doll's head and I picked up the pieces and said, half-heartedly, that I'd superglue it back together. But I still kept seeing it possessed, and once again I was seized with compulsive need to bang it on the floor until its head broke further, to its skeleton--a corklike wooden stick with a crude face painted on it. I collected all the pieces again, but I no longer pretended I was going to glue it back together. Instead, I looked online for info on how to kill a possessed spirit. I went to a small refrigerator in a common room where I'd stored alcohol and I got some Kahlua. If I drank it, the spirit would leave, so I poured some into my coffee drink.

A sensuous middle-aged woman with a sweater that had a V in the back conversed with me, trying to arrange getting a massage from me. 

Now that I'd revealed the location of the small fridge and the presence of alcohol there, I had to grab all my food, knowing that now that the secret was out, I'd have to store my stuff privately.
I saw an old picture of an ex-massage client, "Boris," and his wife. They looked strange but oddly sexy. Then, simultaneously to this dream scene, I had spent the night at Boris' house and made out with another, richer, bossier Boris, who complained that the Boris who owned the house hadn't left anything but toast and French toast for me to eat. The Boris house-owner felt chastened at the lack of food in his house.
I sat in the bleachers next to Boris and another person in my group. I slipped my hand under many layers of scarves and ponchos and blankets and held his hand. He began to kiss me, but then a young and very red-faced man on the seat below, someone I'd had the mistake of hooking up with at another point, saw. I pushed Boris away quickly but it was too late; he was making catty remarks. I began to slap the red-faced man's face, and Boris gave him a slap too.
 
I was with someone else, a younger person--and he had gotten us tickets to an express train. We were running through the streets of Moscow holding these big tickets, looking for #23. It was snowing. When we found it, we had 7 minutes before the train would leave, but we were stopped by the metal detectors--Justin's small backpack had something in it, and a few of Theo's cars dropped to the floor beside the detector. He kicked his backpack until more fell out.

Simultaneously Boris ran till he found a cab--it was an empty car frame with a dog inside. He ran holding me under his arm. A stray dog tried to enter the cab through the push door, but the dog already there and our dog chased him out. Then it was a real car, and Boris drove us to our destination.

We each had a colored ticket, and each color had different rules attached to it. At some point all the people with orange and yellow tickets were asked to leave. I was told that because of the color of my ticket, I was not allowed to speak at all and I had to enter someone's body and meet the leader in the bottom of their body. If I failed, I would grow back to normal size and the person whose body I'd entered would die. They had blue tickets; mine was red.

Then we saw the room we were in like a miniature box-car and we picked it up and shook it to see if any extra tickets were hiding. A lot of red and a few orange and yellow fell out; it was important to pick up the orange and yellow, as they didn't belong. I went with a group of girls who had red; we had a destination, but one woman--the one from earlier who'd wanted a massage, and now she was someone who had been my lover--had lost her ticket. If she was discovered ticketless, she would be killed. She said, tears in her voice, that she lived nearby in Germany and was going to go home and hike, maybe go swimming. She begged us to join her, but we felt we had a purpose, and we were also too scared to leave our semi-enslavement. We also didn't want to be associated with someone who would probably be killed for her mistake.

I left the building and began to run home. We had come by train, but somehow I knew I wasn't far from home. I had a purse, and it was night, so I was scared that I'd be mugged; I started to run in the air, knees pumping high. Then I was flying. If I was high enough I'd be safe--but then I was scared of the height and began to fall. I wouldn't be scared, I decided, and I let myself fall. I knew I would bounce on the ground. And I began to jump-bounce through the streets. Someone noticed me, though, and on one of the down-falls he caught me by the ass. And he brought me to the box-car-like room where I looped back to that dream-scene...
I also saw that my two jars of kombucha had grown many more mother-cultures, three in each jar.
Okay...way too much stuff in here for me to easily interpret. The tone of my dream was of half-nervous, half-excited movement--edged with fear, limitation, desire, anger. Stuff about playing the games of life, fear of leaving their rules. Surfing the dichotomies of power and impotence, cowardice and courage, letting go and holding on. All of this contributes to growth--some horizontally, within the premises of the realities I inhabit--and some vertically, expanding consciousness, evolving.

I noticed with some excitement that my dreams were impossible to order chronologically, suggesting that I might have been simultaneously dreaming the dreams of two different probable selves.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Dreaming from A-Z II: J for Joy

Theme for my 2014 A-Z challenge: my daily dreams, based on thoughts of a topic beginning with each letter of the alphabet.

Only nine days into the challenge and I'm feeling lazy and slightly burned out. But here we go...

Before I slept, I thought of things and people that bring me joy, and I felt it in my body, and I asked my dream-self to show me how I could experience more of that vibration. I felt like I dreamed something middling complicated, but I lost most of it upon waking. I only remember this:
I was in law school and my friend was being mentored by Martha Minow. I saw Martha standing in the middle of a crowd of students, looking very capable. I felt slightly jealous of my friend, but generally I was happy. Although nothing was quite settled or grounded in my experience, it was okay. There was a song about sacrifice playing in the background.
I have to admit, the dream wasn't exactly what I wanted. I had been hoping to feel joy in my dream; what I got was a certain contentment amidst uncertainty. I suppose my dream was telling me that joy is to be found in learning and in ordinary life experiences, and in limitations. Martha Minow taught my civil procedure class and is currently the dean of Harvard Law School; she represents the ultimate in female capability in a regulated and sterile environment. Maybe--joy isn't something given to us by others, but it's something we find in ourselves.