You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Dreams’ tag.

Like the Genesis story of Jacob wrestling with God/Angel, last night passed in a similar manner, only I was left with terminal illness, not with a sore hip, as was Jacob’s lot.

Stunned, I made it to my wing-back chair, my legs propped upon a hassock, and took stock: It felt like I was trapped in a monstrous ache, barred from all exits. My eyes burned. I rubbed them. I blew my nose, coughed. I began breathing, slowly, until enveloped in deep stillness. Outside my study window dawn softened the leafing lilac bush and patches of fescue grass in the backyard.

 

 

Other tumultuous images from the night flooded me: Joan of Arc’s visions, her suit of armor and white stallion, her slaughtering enemies, her restoration of the Dauphin upon the French throne, her arrest for heresy and imprisonment, her frequent interrogations, her death by burning in Rouen’s marketplace. I cringed, owning similar attitudes ill-suited to accepting the unacceptable, glaringly evident in my present circumstances.

Night work with another writer also assumed enormous importance. He depended upon my counsel and often sought my approval whether I was available or not.

Such disjointedness evidences yesterday’s curiosity about the global pandemic’s infection and death rates, stay-at-home-orders for the next month, governments’ measures to protect their people, on-line meditations/exercises to counter negative fallout from such untoward changes. Rather than keep up with developments I have no control over, better to maintain my usual self-care routines, pray, and move through each twenty-four hours allotted me.

My terminal illness remains…

It’s time to stop wrestling.

 

Fascination with dreams has engaged the spiritually astute from the beginnings of recorded history.

In the early fourth century BCE, the ailing flocked to the shrine of the god Asclepius in Epidaurus Greece, in hopes their dreams would reveal strategies for treatment. The Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, 2100 BCE, depicted the hero’s reliance upon dreams before making decisions. Agamemnon’s dream to attack Troy opened Homer’s Iliad, 1194 BCE. Both the Old and New Testaments abound in dreams of guidance and affirmation. Plots construed by Shakespeare, Paul Bunyan, Dickens, James Joyce, even Stephen King often turn on dreams. Closer to our time, psychiatrists Sigmund Freud and C. G. Jung mapped the dream landscape for the resolute to follow.

Why this captivation with dreams that draw some toward actualizing their authentic selves? Once engaged by the unconscious, however there is no turning back. This is soul-work like none other: interfacing with the bedrock of Being.

But it’s really not that difficult. Once within REM asleep, our Night-Teacher weaves snapshots of our lives and others into symbolic stories that reveal warring powers within our psyche, that exorcise madness, that jolt awareness, that soothe quaking limbs, and that prod us toward still further healing.

Simply record these stories in a notebook. Mull over them like the ancients did until they reveal their secrets. In such company, we can’t help but be restored to the original design of our birthright.

 

 

100_0292

Fascination with dreams has engaged the spiritually astute from the beginnings of recorded history.

In the early fourth century BCE, the ailing flocked to the shrine of the god Asclepius in Epidaurus Greece, in hopes their dreams would reveal strategies for treatment. The Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, 2100 BCE, depicted the hero’s reliance upon dreams before making decisions. Agamemnon’s dream to attack Troy opened Homer’s Iliad, 1194 BCE. Both the Old and New Testaments abound in dreams of guidance and affirmation. Plots construed by Shakespeare, Paul Bunyan, Dickens, James Joyce, even Stephen King often turn on dreams. Closer to our time, psychiatrists Sigmund Freud and C. G. Jung mapped the dream landscape for the resolute to follow.

Why this captivation with dreams that draw some toward actualizing their authentic selves? Once engaged by the unconscious, however there is no turning back. This is soul-work like none other: interfacing with the bedrock of Being.

But it’s really not that difficult. Once within REM asleep, our Night-Teacher weaves snapshots of our lives and others into symbolic stories that reveal warring powers within our psyche, that exorcise madness, that jolt awareness, that soothe quaking limbs, and that prod us toward still further healing.

Simply record these stories in a notebook. Mull over them like the ancients did until they reveal their secrets. In such company, we can’t help but be restored to the original design of our birthright.

 

 

100_0292

Available on Amazon

%d bloggers like this: