DREAM BITS:
I got onto a platform and sat under an enormous brass bell that covered me mostly, hanging about a foot above the floor. I pulled the rope attached to it, and there was a conflicting feeling inside of me. I knew pulling it would make the whole thing go up like an elevator, and the words "81 floors" came to me. But even knowing how high that means and how scary that’s going to be, I couldn’t help but keep pulling the rope. It rose rapidly though steadily, and I was terrified. I wanted to look over the edge but was afraid to move. There was nothing physically threatening.
In another part I was at some kind of festive occasion with lots of people. I was a child about 8 or 9. Some of us were wearing a headdress made out of shiny purple plastic ribbons, the kind you see toy windmills made with. A man beside me lifted me up onto his lap so I could sit up higher and be seen by someone taking photos.
There was a tiny boy who was part of our group. He was only 3 or 4, and small and round like a softball. He was just happy and bouncing all over the place, literally, and no matter what he bounced off, he never got hurt. We called him Teflon Boy, and we loved him and were proud of him.
In another part I was an adult, sitting at a table with others. The table was covered with a tablecloth, and the corner right where I was sitting could be folded out from beneath somehow, and became a perfectly square corner, even though the moveable piece seemed long and pointed, more the shape of a old-fashioned helicopter propeller blade, or a child’s sword from an older time. But it was hidden under the tablecloth so I couldn’t really see. I looked up and saw that the other side of the table had an extension, ornately carved in wood, reminded me of the lacy top of a Middle Eastern screen, and nearly as big as the table.
DREAMWORK:
It seems to me that my dreams the last few days have been especially clear and to-the-point, like being hit over the head with the message really. Well, this one is another bonk.
I am under THE biggest call of my life – HELLO! Bonk! Bonk! It’s not a large space I’m perched on but I am actually quite safe, except for my own preconceived fears. Yet I am compelled by something inside to do the opposite of what my fears would want me to do. I am terrified of falling even though there was no sign that I would. It’s all in my head.
But what does “81 floors” mean? 81 is 3 to the power of 4 = masculine to the power of feminine = when masculine and feminine in me are brought into The Relationship, of the Sacred Marriage, coniunctio, which is a stage in the alchemical process of bringing heaven and earth, with all of their opposites, into union. This sounds to me an extremely lofty goal (probably why I was terrified of the height) but the dream gives me comfort and optimism that ascend is inevitable, swift, and safe, IF ONLY I COULD THROW MY FEARS OVERBOARD – BONK! BONK! BONK! Okay, okay...
I hereby surrender all of my fears of the unknown, of the future, of failure, of success, of deprivation, of pain and suffering, to Source, and I fill the space with divine love and self love, light, and healing.
Also found this on the web (www.soul-guidance.com):
“The alchemist Pernety (1858) also knows three coniunctio’s: "The first one is called double coniunctio. It is between ‘agens’ and ‘patiens’, between the male and the female, the form and the substance, quicksilver and sulfur, the subtle and the gross. The second one is called threefold, because it unifies three things: the body, the soul and the spirit. Thus reduce trinity to unity. The third one is called fourfold, because it unifies the four elements into one, but also includes the three others."
Hmmm, what an incredible exploration this is... shall I continue?
In the next part I was dearly valued and held in love by my people. A celebration was put on for those of us of the same age, perhaps it was some kind of initiation or commencement ritual, and we were crowned in purple, the colour of royalty. My benign masculine, my familiar, gave me a boost to make sure that I was seen and ‘recognized’.
Teflon Boy is the happy fool, or naif, a child-like joy and impulse, but he is loved and protected by spirit so no harm came to him. As long as I am pure at heart, I will not come to harm – GO! GO WITH PERMISSION! GO WILD!!!
These young parts of myself are being shown love and acknowledgement from the collective, and encouraged to 'go out and play!' with no fear.
Another observation I have is that the last part of my dream (that I recall) is often the toughest to decode, but I’ll give it a whirl...
The table in the dream felt like a forum to me, a meeting place where a group gathers to ‘table’ their concerns, along with their opinions and experiences. My corner, which at first seemed like something oddly shaped for the existing table, somehow folded down and fit right in. I shall conform to the group. Hmmmm, another shocker of a message to me, who has a lifetime of non-conformity issues and struggles. Just like that, I shall conform. Probably because I have also longed all of my life to belong.
All of this was presented under a cover (the tablecloth) of formality and civility, there was no recrimination, nor awkwardness, nor embarrassment. I was quietly brought into the collective shape. When that happened, suddenly the table grew an extension like a tree growing a branch, a lacework of intricate craftsmanship and detail, something I’ve always thought beautiful and mysterious at the same time. A manifestation of creativity that’s full of freedom and movement from its positive and negative spaces, warm and passionate from the spiciness and redness of the wood. It reminds me of the Sufis, of Rumi, whose greatness and creativity is a mystery that I constantly marvel at. When I experience his poetry, I feel swirling, flowing, fragrant energy sweeping us under a timeless spell of love and light, humanness and godness. I see it touching unerringly the deepest part of each of us, and going from one to another like a bee on a mission, connecting us to a greater web than the one we thought we belonged to.
The table is what is known to our civilization, the screen extension is what’s still a mystery to us. But the two are one piece, made of the wood of the same tree. And more than anything, Rumi speaks of wholeness to me. It is by going into the mystery, by way of Rumi’s path, that I will find my belonging, my tribe.
Hmmm, that’s pretty specific instruction too... I need to become a student of Rumi.
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