Hands on a Green Sheet

An image of many arms and hands gripping a mint/sage green cloth by the edges, which were crumpled a bit so as to give the hands more substance to hold on to, and pulling it as tight as possible. I had the sense the cloth was held aloft.

DREAMWORK:

The cloth is the colour of our bedsheets, so this is something personal. Although I don’t recall seeing the bodies and faces attached to the arms, they didn’t feel like strangers to me, nor did they feel exactly like kin. I think they were ‘my people’, though I have yet to meet them. I’m not sure what they were doing, or for what purpose, but they were doing it together, in one accord. There was a strong feeling of solidarity and strength, as if they were all told to and agreed to grip as tight and as they can, pull as hard as they can to make the sheet as taut as possible in all directions. It almost seemed as if it’s a matter of life and death, as if something or someone’s going to fall on it, although this is at the very edge of the feeling in the dream.

It’s a temporary shelter, my inner knowing tells me, for me, for where I am in my life. The hands of my people (though I haven’t met them they are already there, aligned with me somehow) are hard at work, intent with purpose, in making and giving me shelter. I have an image of a little green shoot, freshly broken ground, shielded by the canopy of mature foliage above it. The coverage is light but sturdy, sunlight and rain can come through, but not so much they sear or crush the young seedling.

Now that I have ‘come out of the closet’ with my vulnerability, standing on the threshold of the nursery and the big wide world, I am that young plant, again, open to this re-entry as a being reborn, having reclaimed more of myself this time.

So I thank these generous and purposeful folks, my people, for paving the way and providing for me. I hope to see you soon some day, and thank you and join you in person.