Losing One's Point of Reference Makes All Things Possible

"What's on the top floor?" she asked, peering up the twisting wooden stairway.

The owner winced. "Nothing safe. Nothing good."

"Well, then," she whispered, already on the third stair.

At the top, she stood alone, looking around at gleaming plank floors, mostly bare of furniture. Wide windows, no curtains, The light streaming in had a foreign, rushing quality; she'd never seen anything like it.

"We're at the very top, you know. We're going very fast."

She jumped in surprise. She hadn't seen the man sitting quietly on a cushion in the alcove to her right.

"The top? Of what? The house?"

He smiled, knowing. "The world." Nodding toward the window, he sat back and waited.

She was grateful she'd put her hands on the window frame, because the sight of everything flying beneath her at unimaginable speed shook her; she crumpled to the floor.

"How? How is this possible? How can you just sit there?"

"Because we are all traveling unbelievably fast. Always. We're just the ones who can see, you and I. Try again."

More cautiously this time, she edged to the window.

She was in the front seat of the roller coaster. In the engine of the train. On the back of an eagle.

"That we are standing still, safely on the ground, is illusion. No one is. But most of the time, we don't know to look out the windows. Sit with me a while. Try to hold both these thoughts in your mind: safely sitting on a rug on the floor, and at the same time precariously flying through everything we've ever known."

She sat with the small man. He inched closer so his knee was touching hers. They both sat perfectly still, racing at top speed through the universe.

More Dreams -- a Seachange

Warning:  Contains rambling about dreams again.  Will likely be boring.


Background:  I'm a professional flutist/piccolo player.  I teach and perform.  One of my recurring dreams involves me holding a flute (for a performance, usually) and having it feel strange in my hands.  Like it doesn't fit.  My hands can't keep it balanced, or can't find the keys or whatnot.  I make a hash of some big performance as a result.

But.

Last night, I dreamed that I was going to perform on both flute and piccolo as a soloist with an orchestra.
However, both my flute and picc were falling apart.  Literally.  The keys were falling off, the pads were coming unglued, etc.  SO.  I sat down with my assistant (? what assistant?), found some screws from the garage toolbox and some airplane glue and fIXED them.  It looked kind of awful, but they both worked.  They felt very awkward (like they have in other dreams), but this time, I glued things on the sides of the flute/picc to make it fit me better.  I wasn't helpless.  And I got up and gave the performance!  It was great!

After the performance, another famous flutist (who had been in the audience) came up to congratulate me and saw the instruments and goggled at how awful they looked.  He handed me HIS flute (a gold something or other) and had me play it.  It was SO much easier to play than my cobbled-together repaired flute.  He laughed and said, "I have NO idea how you made this junked-up thing sound so good!"
And then the dream dissolved into other things.

This is THE FIRST time that I ever solved my problem!  (In my dream, that is.)

I see a pattern lately.  Empowerment, possibility, confidence.  And I have to say, it's exciting.

Dreaming Of Eagles

Remember how I recently documented some dreams?  I'm gonna do it again.

WARNING:  Dream recap here.  Might be boring.

It was night.  I was with some good friends (no idea who).  We were outside, the stars were shining.  Then I looked up and saw what appeared to be a chevron of light moving through the sky with sparks falling in a trail from it.  It moved left, then right, then up and around.

I pointed it out to my companions.  We watched as it became larger and more defined.  Then I saw that it was an eagle.  A bald eagle.  And all of its feathers were aflame.  It kind of looked like there were fiber optic lights on the edges of the wings, and all the feathers.  It was ON FIRE but not being consumed!

As it neared, I could see the flame and the sparks.  I knew that I needed to place my brand new handmade crystal earrings out on the hood of the car we were all leaning on for the eagle.  We knew to get out of the way because the flames might be too much.

So we walked backwards, away from the parked car and the crystal earring offering.  We didn't see the eagle as it landed (it was too bright to look at), but it landed, took the earrings, and then cried out in triumph.  Then -- I think -- it flew above our heads.

In the dream, I felt excited, not scared.  I was sure that it was coming for me, to get my offering of my craft.  It came from the heavens, and was fueled by heavenly celestial fire.  It was not afraid of the flames, nor was it.  My companions were frightened and didn't know what to do, but I did.

I awoke from the dream feeling incredibly full of ... promise.  Of awe.

Ok, armchair psychiatrists, GO.

Horrific Dreams

** BE WARNED:  This contains long rambles about my dreams lately.  It will probably be boring. **

Dream #1:

My kids and I lived in this enormous mansion.  We did not own it -- I think I was a curator or something.  It had a ballroom, giant bedrooms with beds with big gold canopies, crazy stuff.  Then I went out a small door, and found a stairway to the lower level.  There I saw a weird neighborhood of storage rooms, cramped hallways, utility closets, etc.  I came upon a family living in a teeny small room with bunkbeds and cement walls.  The mom looked at me and asked who I was.  I said that I lived in the house.  She replied, "Well, like 20 people live here.  So?"
And I was in shock -- 20 people?  I thought we were the only ones!

So I kept wandering.  I found a gatehouse of sorts, which had a large metal fence and gate.  There was another woman who was operating the gate.  She asked me for my passcode, which I didn't have.  I protested that I LIVED HERE IN THE MAIN HOUSE!  She looked me up and down, and said to wait.  She rummaged through a cardboard box and grabbed two blue polo shirts with white logos on them (couldn't see what it said), and tossed them at me.  She said to be sure to wear them next time.  And she let me out.

Problem is, I didn't know how to find my way back, and got lost in the town.
THEN.  I was back in "my" house, and decided to look for the mysterious underground portion of the house, and took my daughter with me.  We found the door and went looking.  We found the family in the little bunkbed room, we found more hidden rooms.  Then my daughter kept trying to explain to the people that our part of the house had a BALLROOM and how cool was that?  They didn't believe her.

Then I woke up.

DREAM #2:
Ugh.  This one is short but nasty.
I was at what looked like the world's saddest office party.  It looked like we were in the faculty lounge at some college or something.  Couches, counters, cabinets, a fridge, a sink, chairs.  But it was a funeral of sorts.  For two children.  One was a school-aged kid, and I think he was in a coffin on the side of the room.  But the real focus was the infant.  For some mysterious reason, the infant, while dead, was animated.  Moving.  ANd there was some underlying understanding that the infant was going to be this way for TWO WEEKS.  I guess at that point, it would be fully dead.
But there was a woman (I don't think it was the mother) who was carrying this infant around.  It was horrid. The infant was gray/blue, and naked except for a blanket wrapped loosely around its lower half.  The woman looked empty -- sad, resigned, somewhat disgusted.
Apparently the infant had died due to exposure to mold and bacteria.  No one wanted to touch it.  It needed to be fed.  Nobody wanted to do it.
So I took the infant and went to the sink to make a bottle of formula.  It wouldn't suck, so I stuck my finger in its mouth to get it started.  Then, oddly (like all of this isn't odd enough?), my cousin Peter was there saying, "Are you NUTS? You're touching it?  Do you want to be exposed to all the mold it's carrying? And bring that home to YOUR family? STOP!"

Then I handed the infant back to the woman, and started weeping desperately.  I found my friend Leslie and knelt in front of her, my head on her knees, and sobbed.  Then I lay down on an old green couch and try to rest.  Some man comes up with the infant.  I sobbed, "No.  I just can't.  I CAN'T!" but he lays the infant on the couch next to me, right against my arm and ribs.  It was so cold I could feel the chill soaking into me through its blanket.

I woke then with a start, still feeling cold one one side.

OK.  What the HELL was that about?

Dreaming Some New Dreams

My typical anxiety dream for my entire adult life has been like this:

I find myself at the University of North Texas (where I actually DID do my graduate work).  The buildings are huge, and I realize I haven't been to my classes.  I keep trying to find the office that will help me find my schedule.  I give up and just go looking for my class -- which I don't know WHAT it is, or where.  Or when.  And if I do find it? My teacher scolds me and I have no seat, and so on.  And I usually wake up in a cold sweat.  Nobody will help me.  Nobody gives me directions.  I try to talk and my voice gets softer and softer until there is no sound at all.  Just air.

BUT.
In the last two nights, they have been different.  I have landed in odd places and situations (like last night, I was cast as the "everyman" in a play).  But now I am being helped by people.  I am finding my way!  I am a bit nervous, but excited by trying new things.  I ask for help -- I tell people, "Yes, I know.  I don't know how to do this yet, but if you teach me .... if you SHOW me, I'll get it!"  And then, I do.  I figure it out.  I succeed. 
I find my way to the dressing room where there is a costume that fits perfectly.  I get into character.  I'm there on time.  My co-actor is happy with me.  He laughs.  I laugh.  I enjoy it.

This has NEVER happened.
NEVER.

I am So excited.