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At 4:30 A.M., I awoke with this dream:
I’ve been invited to the University of Dublin to lecture on my favorite poet. Many students crowd the conference room. I’m surprised by their interest as my grasp of the subject matter is thin. I don’t even mention the name of the poet. Some take notes.
This curious dream is the first after weeks of waking with pieces of them, resembling Campbell’s Alphabet Soup: none made sense. A new medication seems to be messing with my REM or fifth sleep cycle from which dream stories emerge. This one has a bit of story.
My psyche places me on the campus of the University of Dublin, keen on academic research and innovation since its 1592 foundation by Queen Elizabeth I. Such a venue places me at the cusp of new learning, the challenge of each twenty-four hours allotted me before my transition. Never have I been so enthusiastic about learning. The setting also recalls my Irish roots, steeped in hardship.
For some reason, my favorite poet suggests my inner poet, undeveloped and left alone, a task perceived as too daunting whenever I did review journals of poetry. Classes did not light my fire. Yet, she is there, despite not knowing her true name, and I’ve an appreciative audience.
That my presentation feels thin suggests my rush to assimilate fresh materials rather than to relish them, to allow them root-room to grow and become something else, then, to share with others.
All the more important to trust this process, already well underway. My Teacher knows what I really need. It’s about surrendering.
At 6:15 A. M., I awoke with this encouraging dream:
It is winter, dark outside. After long decades, I return to college, brightly lit, with my belongings and discover my old small room has been completely renovated in engaging pastels of creams, greens, and strawberries—a suitable milieu to continue my studies. As I begin settling in, a former classmate says excitedly, “I didn’t know you were here!” then sits on my new desk chair. Others who I’d studied with also fill my room that overlooks the street below. Occasional noises, the only drawback.
This encouraging dream reveals fresh beginnings in my psyche. Again, the winter, dark outside suggests the shortening span of my life—a critical reminder to live in the now and to let go of yesterdays and tomorrows. I’ve still much to learn.
The college, brightly lit, suggests advanced learning, the opportunity to deepen my knowledge of human history, free from idealism or romanticism or muddled thinking. I’m clearly ready.
And my old small room felt like the one at the Junior College I attended, the first time away from home. In the dream, though, its colors gladdened me. The Interior Decorator, aware of my preferences, had created this environment for new learning, despite its hardness, knowing that I would feel at home.
And a former classmate, as well as those who later fill my room with feminine energy, suggests a plethora of positive support and encouragement. Joy abounds.
Lastly, the occasional noises speak of irritations woven into life’s fabric, also sources for new learning.
This encouraging dream still lives on, its beeswax fragrance, a source of contentment …
At 3:30 A.M., I awoke with this peaceful dream:
I’m working in a large city with countless others, all in a spirit of harmony and peace. Nowhere is there ill will or discord.
What is unusual about this dream is that it continued throughout the night. I’m glad to have receive it.
In robust health, I’m working, totally involved, energized by multiple projects that enlarge my knowledge of life. I’m delighted to be participating and never tire. Countless others surround me from whom I also learn; and they, from me.
The large city suggests the realm of Twelve Step Recovery, where a minority engage in conscious living that involves selfless care for one another, even through chronic pain and illness unto death. Care for the environment also flows from this awareness of the living God within and in our midst, evidenced by the spirit of harmony and peace. Key to this on-going recovery are the practice of faith, emotional honesty, and willingness.
Another association with the large city is St. Augustine’s philosophic treatise City of God (413-466 CE) in which the believers bolster themselves from malicious attacks by the unbelievers of the Earthly City, a conflict that will continue until the end of time.
In view of our present global conflagration, good versus evil, it’s imperative not to lose hope. Another Power is at work who has brought others through similar perils. Lean into It and do the next right thing, with grace. It’s working out …
Heart Whisperings 