My parents are en route from California for a quick visit tomorrow; they should arrive around 1:00 in the morning, and A is visiting her parents this weekend, so the day has been spent all to myself, something that hasn’t been done in quite a long while.
I thought, “Perhaps I’ll write.” And perhaps I shall. But I must admit that for most the day I’ve wasted multiple hours watching Call the Midwife on Netflix and done a little bit of cleaning. The cats and I have been snuggling, as well, as we await the visitation.
It’s difficult to find “entertainment” that reaches the heart, human beings showing all manner of love and its depths on screen in a way that does not ring false.
Last night in my dreams, I felt the experience of love many times. At one point, I found myself near the raging sea watching the merfolk, shimmering and terrifying, burst from the sea foam and onto dry land. A man stood near, an old seafarer as my guide; I asked him many questions and received the same answer, which I can’t recall.
One of the merpeople saw me and scaled the cliffs faster than anything I’ve ever seen, and I knew I ought to be scared of her and her rainbow scales and amphibian nature. But I thought to myself, “Try to be friends,” and told her, as she rounded on me, that I wouldn’t tell anyone that I saw her–this seemed very important. So she stopped and whispered to me, “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like up here.” Another female mer appeared then, and pushed me back against the rocks, and held a gleaming scepter aloft. It shot off sparks into the sky, red ones, like a signal, and through I knew my life was probably in danger, I didn’t mind, because her motivation was not to hurt me but to protect her friend from harm if it were found out that she’d befriended a land creature.
I was in a meadow, in the dark, near a barn, and I went into it and it wasn’t a barn but a large house, and shared with another family. All at once, my teeth felt strange, and I knew they were coming out, but only on the bottom jaw. And suddenly, one came out, sliding out from my gums like frosting from a tube. Then another. Then 4 at once. And I was distressed. I ran to show them to others, but then realized they weren’t my teeth. I had all my teeth still–perhaps replaced? No, just because they came from my mouth meant nothing anymore. They belonged to an old man, a forest-traveler from Maine, which a wise woman informed me was a sacred gift indeed.
The dream changed, and I found myself in a funeral parlor filled with row upon row of empty caskets. The air was warm and peaceful. The room was made of a light brown wood. The undertaker was there, explaining to me that the caskets were there to receive the bodies of those who were done. He was kind and gentle about this, speaking with a reverence of and compassionate regard for the deceased. He said they always left their last possessions behind as a symbol of who they were. I began opening drawers–there were many, much more than the caskets. Each drawer contained at least one item, and it was these smaller ones I was interested in. Each item was tagged with the names of those who had left these symbols behind. The one I first looked at was a couple’s box–they’d died in a car accident, and left behind a turquoise ring. I took it from the box, touched by this ring as a symbol of their love, and put it on my own hand as a tribute to what they lost, so that their love might live on.
These sort of dreams are what I ponder when I have this free time. What do they ask of me? What am I being called to? How can I best serve the dreams? Such powerful messages and such tenderness, too. So many circles and cycles and careful wisdom meted out in perfect amounts to add up to what is needed.