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.