Dream Into Life
posted by Orchid | February 17, 2010
- Login or register to post comments
- Print this page
Delicious
Digg
StumbleUpon
Propeller
Reddit
Magnoliacom
Newsvine
Furl
Facebook
Google
Yahoo
Technorati
IcerocketI've been dreaming of water. Every night a new dream. On the water. In the water. Under the water. Drinking water. The most disturbing dreams were of being in a boat and seeing something akin to rogue waves swell up and threaten to engulf the entire boat. In reality, I have a secret fear of the open ocean. In my dreams, some of the worst nightmares come from discovering I'm in a small boat out in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. The worst terror is when those nightmares include a rogue wave.
Then there are the dreams where water lifts me up, carries me, bathes me, enfolds me like a warm embrace. They stand in such stark contrast to the threat of being completely drowned. Because these dreams have come so frequently and so recently, as in the past few nights, it tells me I have some dreamwork to do. There are definitely things in my life that I need to figure out; these dreams of water must fit into my personal investigations.
Over the weekend I had my tarot read. It was the first time in many, many years but I felt drawn to do it. She was a wonderful tarot reader and we discussed many metaphors for being "stuck" because my reading showed that I am certainly STUCK. I am stuck in the past, I feel colored by it, weighed down by it, totally immobilized by it at times. There are moments when I feel I am finally able to pull one foot out of the bog of memory that holds me down, but usually something happens that knocks me down. As I focus on untangling these dreams, I am going to focus my energy on this imagery of "stuckness" and see if there is some parallel between being stuck and perhaps feeling like I'm drowning; between escaping the bog and feeling cleansed and ready to start anew.
Welcome, sweet sleep, as I delve once again into the unknown. Deliver me the answers which I seek.
Image: Domination by silentfuneral
www.deviantart.com
Comments
A Dream of Water Water
— Feb 17, 2010
A Dream of Water
Water means secrets
Something deeply buried
Moving, unconsciously, through
Chthonic thought-rivers,
Emotional waterfalls,
Pools of sacred transformation.
Or sex. Or money.
That which flows,
Yet never without consequence.
Deeply felt; deeply brought in
To those secret liquid pathways
Etching out existence as
We know it.
A dream of water is a prophecy
Written into the DNA,
Waiting for the day to manifest.
It is a dream about secret dreams,
Sacred ceremony,
That which cannot be named.
That which is always present.
Somehow the source is speaking
Perhaps in rhyme and metaphor,
Yet speaking still, insistently.
Listen.
Let it insinuate into all the senses,
Let it speak.
Times are tentative.
I cannot always know what
Is safe to say. Or whisper.
The dream tells me that
There are secreted beaches
In the cacophony and stench
Of the callous city.
Places meant for refuge, re-creation.
They are hidden from the hostile streets,
But hardly peacefully obscure.
The hordes are slipping through the
Tear in the chain-linked fence,
Pushing, uncaring, blindly moving
Toward the sand.
They push and tumble into the ocean,
Far too overwhelmed by their numbers,
Their size.
No room! No room!
"But there's plenty of room,"
Roar the jolly clowns
Like over-inflated plastic beach toys.
I must escape the suffocation.
The tunnel out is too small, stifling.
I must crawl, on my knees,
Pulling myself forward
With each wisp of breath.
There is no end,
I am certain.
Just agonizing suffocation,
Superhuman effort again and again.
Until the city reappears.
It is different; it is quiet.
Everyone is at the beach,
Reveling in the sunlight.
Here it is dark. Practically empty.
The store windows are lighted
For the night display, muted,
Like starlight.
It is a long comforting walk
In the night air.
But this is a dream of water.
There, that endless, inky lake,
Reaching out past north and south
Horizons.
Deep, solid, dense, darkly opaque,
Welcoming.
I look out over the iron edge of the bridge
Upon which I gently walk along the pavement.
There are two children on the bridge,
Quietly playing,
Shining softly in the way
That happy children do,
At peace,
In the water's protective embrace.
