keeping up...

 So glad to find my dream blog is still alive! must visit more often- still dreaming vividly every night, though it may fade quickly in the morn if I don't take time to recall and writer it down. depression has been slowing me down and I am seeking couseling again after a very rough year.  relationship with my daughter is strained at best and I wish I could fix it. Yoga and Dreams has downsized considerably with only 1 or 2 classes a week and focus has shifted to Cirkus Pandemonium and Greene Henge. currently seeking a good part time job to support my hobbies! going to put this blog on my FB so I can access it more easily and hopefully post more dreams soon!

The Umbrella Effect: Living the Dream

Anarchist Jurisdiction

 Anarchist Jurisdiction

There's always more

than one way to go

anarchist jurisdiction

get out of my way

you drive too slow!

Burn down

the fire station!

Blow up the bank!

The anarchists are

the ones to thank!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

here in Portland

we're doing fine!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

where black lives matter

is the sign of the times!

mutual aid

and protest time

I'll take care of yours

and you take care of mine!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

abolish the prisons!

and the police!

and you don't have to keep

your dog on a leash!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

board up the windows

and spray paint all the walls!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

cause private property

means nothing at all!

and every government

must eventually fall!

Anarchist Jurisdiction

Anarchist Jurisdiction

Anarchist Jurisdiction

The dismantilors

 in my dream I was seal woman, and wanted to be champion of the ice sliders. I was goldilocks. in a pageant, but the wig was too small and wouldn't stay in place. I wanted to be chosen by a lover, an amalgam of characterstics, soulful eyes and hairy hobbit feet. he wanted to know me and understand me, read my bumperstickers and hear my musics, read my tattoos. we found my feathered wings were growing in to the outline of wing tattoo shapes on my back, as moss and molds sprouted on the soles of my feet. embarrassed. I wondered how it was possible. since i knew I showered last night. he must have tracked it in on his feet. the tv started blaring loudly as we tried to make

, I knew it was Gar's fault for messing with the settings. but I couldn't turn it off. the sex was not passionate but difficult, as neither of us felt completely at ease. he asked if someone might need the adjoined bathroom, and I said no, they will use the one downstairs. but then david potter came in and we awkwardly acted like nothing was going on. all of this was so meaningful when I awoke, and I decided to start a punkrock band, fronted by dogs and cats called the dismantilors.

killer bunny

Attacked by a giant rabbit in my dream last night. also bitten by the dog who had scared the bunny living in a self driving RV. could fill the pain and see the blood on my nose asked for help from Blythe and her BF.

The Helicopter

I awaken to realize I was dreaming. I had been flying a helicopter, low to the ground, in a sweeping spiral, searching for a lost little girl. I realize that I am the lost little girl, my lost inner child. I am the helicopter, a vehicle that lifts people up to show them a broader perspective, the seeker, searching for myself, seeking that perspective, the rescuer, saving lost souls, the brambles, hiding lost children, offering a thorny shelter, a tough outer covering to protect the vulnerable, the beach grass hanging on tenaciously in the shifting sands, and the sand itself. I am the sky in which the helicopter flies.

I realize that this method of dream interpretation is so much more than a doorway into the psyche, a window into the subconscious world. It is a way to interpret life, the universe. In the meta, I am the dream, I am the dreamer, awakening to the realization of oneness. The universe dreaming itself into creation, maintaining the illusion of separation, and the ultimate dissolution. Infinite, eternal, one, and nothing. Consciousness, seeking to understand itself. Sleeping, dreaming, waking, remembering, forgetting, dreaming again. This is why I love sleep. the dream contains all meaning, and meaninglessness. All one.

As always, there is a song about this-

Spiraling Into the Center

Spiraling into the Center,

the Center of the Wheel.

Spiraling into the Center,

the Center of the Wheel.

We are the Weavers, we are the woven ones

We are the Dreamers, we are the Dream.

We are the Weavers, we are the woven ones

We are the Dreamers, we are the Dream.

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/song-goddess-and-god-spiraling-center-lyrics.html

• Artist: Beverly Frederick

Dreaming of India, sitting on warm sands, watching elaborate pageantry performed by simple villagers, With colorful costumes intricate dance movements and outsized papier mache masks they portray a magical history. An ugly old woman wishes to be blessed with beauty and youth by Lakshmi. Suddenly I am the old woman and I lovingly climb a carved wooden cart post to obtain the blessing. My simple peasant dress is transformed into 1,000 luxuriant silks. yet still I am consorting with poor old gypsies in the street, haggling and swindling each other for tobacco, pot and opium. Still we are warm inside the large tent while the desert winds blow outside, flapping the walls. Mark Mark and Sunny are there and Sunny is looking young and beautiful in her neatly arranged dread locks. Mark invites me into his gypsy cart and we are smoking, I tell him I want one of these carts and he is explaining  how they work and that you really need a horse to pull them, because they are heavy. I want one that I could pull myself. A woman is singing kirtan and I sing along a bit, surprising her that  know the words, Hare Krsna Hare Krsna, then mumbling along when the songs get more complex. Over all a very good dream, With a message, I must stay true to my spiritual path, Appreciate that I am indeed blessed and not spend my energies worrying and chasing after lowly material pleasures and intoxicants. A good dream for the morning after Thanksgiving- Buy Nothing Day!

treasure beneath the waters

Have been dreaming lately of warm beaches with clear waters. diving beneath the waters I find unlimited beautiful sparkling gems, crystals, charms and coins. I am gathering this abundance and showing others how to collect it. the subconscious mind, beneath the surface is an endless treasure trove for us to explore and mine. we must only dive in, recognize, and share the riches we find there.

polishing antiquities

OK, I haven't posted for awhile, regrettably. I don't know if anyone ever reads this blog, but since it is for my own reference, it is myself I am cheating by not keeping up with the work.  On that note, the dream I had just now is so relevant to my life situation on so many levels, that I awoke inspired, defeated, lost in thought, and reassessing all that I own, my life's work, and most especially my values.  It is necessary to assess these things often to see if we are on track in life.  I will try to tell of the dream and it's relevance by weaving in and out of it in story, and I think it will also become a poem if I tell the story in the way it touched my heart.  The poem will be called polishing antiquities, the main theme of the dream.  It is 5 AM.  I have a long day of work ahead of me, and 2 long ones behind me, because as usual, I have signed up for more work than I can even fit into one week.  That is my so called "real" life.  Primarily, I consider myself a yoga teacher, but because that is not very lucrative, I am also a caregiver, a housecleaner, a hairdresser, and I do odd jobs, babysitting, and anything else that becomes available, just to make ends meet.  Though I burn the candle at both ends, at times, I am not really "about money", I like simple things and I live on a very careful budget. I also love travel, learning, nature, the arts, animals, and especially the wonderful people in my life.  All the work I do is to pay for bills and debt, related to my travel and education, but it is also because I truly do like to help people.  Yesterday, while helping a disabled client run errands, I ran into a co-worker at the store. I had not seen her in say 5-8 years. she said oh- we used to work for.... "Pat Swenson!" yes, indeed we did. "do you still work for home instead?", "No, I work for aging and disability services", "Me too!" Pat Swenson was well off, smart, very sweet, lived alone in her large beautiful home which she kept immaculate and well maintained, (with help from us) until the day she died.  I was there when she took her last breath in her beautiful home, and said, "God bless you on your journey." none of this is from the dream, but it sets the stage.  Also yesterday, I was practicing Thai massage with a very dear friend of mine. He, like myself, is what I all a "collector".  Not well to do, but rich in other ways, we collect stuff, clutter, the detritus that many others might throw away. In fact much of our treasures are salvaged from yard sales, free boxes, and even "the trash." In the dream, I am cleaning his house, which, like mine, is large, old, beautiful, yet filled with junk that gathers dust in great piles in nearly every available space. In the dream I am cleaning his house and discovering, beneath the dust, many treasures and antiquities. In specific, he shows me an old clock that has intricate workings, connected to a globe, with a screen that seems to reveal mysterious workings of the planet and universe. it is very old and unique.  The more I clean and dust the more beautiful, lavish, hand carved antiques I uncover, mostly beautiful old hardwoods and glass. Another yoga student, Charmaine is there too, helping, and the woman from the store (Terry). We tell him he should really get this stuff appraised, and that he could sell it for so much money! Why, he could clean up the old barn and start an antiques store, he could fix this place up and create a bed and breakfast!  It is also mentioned that many of the old furnishings have built in painted glass lamps that are meant to be turned on an off each day. Turning them on and off keeps the mechanisms working, but also over time increases the odds that the bulbs will fail. I bring up that all these antiques remind me of my grandmother, who collected beautiful antiques, but in the end much of it was given to goodwill and she was sent to a terrible nursing home, because no one had the time, or knowledge to to help her when she became senile, and to see the true value of her lifetime of collecting, and how sad that was. (I still blame myself, though I tried to advocate on her behalf.) This dream had so much to say about the value of things, time, and people. Things are meaningless unless we assign them value, but we spend our most valuable gifts, our time and our lives to accumulate, and then must maintain the things.  We want the things to beautify our homes, but our homes become warehouses of clutter and dust if we don't maintain them. Often we don't maintain them because we are too busy working, just to pay the rent and accumulate more things. Meanwhile, our clocks are ticking along, and our very bodies decline from the hard work. We must also maintain our bodies, but in the end, dust and decay claim all. In the dream I was using an antique shaving brush to brush away the dust. I began to wonder if it was too valuable to use in that manner. The more I cleaned and dusted, the more the air became dusty and I began sneezing. I opened the door to let light and air into the dark dusty house. It may have been the sneezing, or the light in the dream that woke me up, gazing around my own dim and dusty room in the early light of dawn. I imagined it full of the beautiful antiques and treasures from my dream, instead of the worthless, dusty old junk that more light would reveal.  I realized that some of my best treasures, like my grandmother's old desk, were so buried in junk that they literally cannot be seen.  I thought about my life, how I spend my time, how I often want to give away all this junk, but when I begin to sort and clean it, I find all the treasures that I alone know the value of.  The stories, the gifts, and mostly the people whom I treasure in my life.  The antique wood, which was once ancient trees.  Which is more valuable?  My mother is an accountant, she would know.  I would give it all away, and I wouldn't change a thing.  

Singing with the fairies

After reading Bryan Froud's Fairy oracle and hanging with rockstars, I dream of a a boat that needs no oars nor motor, but glides along over water and sand alike, seemingly directed by my will.  I am singing with the fairies, and one hands me a handful of dollars, I thank them cursorily, and walking away, I realize there is a hundred dollar bill wrapped in the ones.  feeling inspired with fresh ideas and energy to create new directions in life I took the dream to mean that the fairies will help me, and if I only follow through, I will be compensated for my efforts.

robot sex

dreamt of robot sex, dying trees and strange rituals and video. 'looks like an angry shave" he said. "you must have seen my dreams." she said. (with SB and Sal)

The wedding feast

I had a strange and beautiful dream. I was seated at a table for a fancy wedding feast. I was sitting with a girl I had just met, but neither of us felt sure we were supposed to be there, or where we were supposed to sit. they brought us roses dipped in the most delicious blue and purple candy that we could suck on or eat, and some strange tokens that were to be used later in the ritual. we seemed to be at Reed College, and I recognized a couple of co-workers there, but no one I knew well.  I was sure it was a wedding, though at no time was it clear who the bride and groom were, throughout the elaborate ceremony, I never saw them.  At one point someone said "that is where the mothers sit" and we changed our seats, feeling uncomfortable I told them "oh, she's not my mother," though the girl was clearly much younger than I, and she was a bit miffed that I had said that.  Then the part of the ceremony came where we went into the hall and there was bright green waters rushing through the halls, kind of levitating so nothing really got wet. each member of the the party got into a kayak and we went rushing through the building in a circuituous route, trying to control the speeding boats with our paddles and wearing elaborate costumes. my boat went into a spin, but I was able to gain control and keep from capsizing, which I think one other boat did. that is the majority of what I remember. I awoke warm and took my blankets aside and felt the need to do some stretching as I often do at night, especially when I have been doing lots of yoga- (7 days this week) and also not drinking enough water. as I was lying there, my butt was uncovered, and I began to fall back asleep. I had a half waking dream that Iyan and probably Gar were outside my door and looking in. I covered my bum, but then realized I was dreaming again.

song circle

It was an evening of sharing visions. Solutions and inspirations poured forth from the lips of kindred, engaged, open minds, hearts, spirits and imaginations. and then, The dream, a continuation. People arrived, with names like Bark, Tarp, and Sun Song, things that protect, defend and nurture. they welcomed me into the song circle. The songs they played and sang were beautiful and inspiring. We all knew each other well, though we could not always remember why. Likewise the songs were familiar, but I did not know the words. Perhaps the chorus but not the verse. the words they spoke were kind and true. The instruments they played were beautiful and unique. But when I looked into my teacher's eyes, his expression changed, joy turned to compassion, sadness, fear, reflecting all my own feelings of self doubt and pain as he slowly dissolved before my eyes into eyes, swirling eyes. I wanted the dream to continue, as it had before, waking and going back to sleep, to be in the circle, to hear more songs, but now my teacher was leaving, I knew I was dreaming, but also that it was time to wake up. time to think and write. This dream was about letting go of doubts, fears, sadness, ego, excuses and justifications, even about letting go of teachers and guides, once the lessons are learned. It was a reminder that all the knowledge and answers I need are already within, and that all we need to do to manifest our dreams is to truly believe and create the reality of our visions. It was a dream about waking up. and as I woke to write my impressions, the song it left me with was "I am the eye, I am the I. I am the eye, I am the I". The other songs were beautiful too, and I wish I remembered more, but perhaps in time. Thank you Lulu Mosman for welcoming me to the song circles and being my new, supportive beautiful friend, and for having the courage to go to North Dakota and fight the pipeline. Thank you Sun Song (and Zebba was in the dream too, in a phone call) for being a long true friend and singing the songs of truth with me. Thank you Antonio Zamora for the power of your convictions and all you have taught me. Thank you Zelah Matheson for believing in your dreams and sharing them. Thank you Sam Smith for inviting the Bucky Fuller fans to gather to gether to envision a brighter future. I have a feeling this dream is just a beginning of a whole new song <3

Sisters Sharing Stories

I had a beautiful, powerful dream this morning before waking. It was my birthday, and for the celebration we had rented a house by the sea. I was holding a large frog, as I sat in a circle of women, talking. My mother was there, and also my daughter. Many of the women were older, and old friends of my mother’s, others were younger, and many were not known to me in waking life, but instead represented women of different cultures, different ethnicities, from around the world. There seemed to be twelve or thirteen of us, seated in a circle. At one point I said it is time for me to release this frog, and I went out, finding a sort of canal with fresh water that seemed suitable, as I heard other frogs singing there. I plunged in with the frog, I was fully dressed, holding the frog, my handbag, and everything. I did not know how deep it was, or if it was safe, but I did not hesitate. In the water I let the frog swim free, and it swam to my daughter who was also in the water. She caught hold of it, but I told her no, it is time to let it go. Back in the house, we sat in the circle, taking turns telling our stories. It did not seem like we were wet or cold, just sitting, sharing stories like sisters. Many of the women had very sad stories of abuse, mistreatment, struggles, political unrest in their homes. I remember one women, perhaps African, in colorful dress told what it was like to be not secondary, but tertiary, like being the third wife of her husband. She felt that she and her children were not really loved and supported by this man, did not really fit in. She was very sad. I told her a story of a friend (in the dream it was Alyssa, but I am not aware of the story having any other basis in “real” life) the girl in the story had been adopted and made to work in the kitchen and never felt love or belonging. I don’t remember all the details clearly, but it seemed she had run away, become homeless, gone through trials and at last been married to a man who did not love her. However, she found her comfort and sense of home in the kitchen, in cooking and serving foods. After I told this story (interestingly not my own story) we went into the kitchen where many foods were laid out for us. Many varieties of cheeses, sausages and other delectibles. I remember wondering if the sausage was vegetarian. Out of a large window we could see the sea. When our plates were full, we went back to the circle, but some of the women (I think there may have been one or two men as well) needed to leave. I suggested that we take a break, to eat, rest, or talk among ourselves before returning to the formal circle, because I felt it was important for each guest to have a chance to speak and be heard with compassion and respect. At this point I awoke, very moved and inspired. For my next birthday I will be 45 and I would like to organize something like this. It could be a retreat by the sea, or it could be just a circle of sisters sharing stories, perhaps at In Other Words. A place for women to speak, and be heard, with compassion and respect. I want to share this vision with others. Anyone who has ever felt unwanted, did not fit in, or never felt their story was important, it is.

black butterfly with a somatic chart of the heart

I want to show Naomi, this delicate treasure made by Amber and given to me, but she man handles it and it falls apart even though i keep asking her not to touch it.  earlier in the dream I am talking to Ariel about my storage problems and ask her if she ever found her car keys. after out talk on the phone I find the car keys in a shoe box along with remote controls. I put them in the "ignition" and the engine starts, but there really is no car. none the less I all her to tell her I found her keys and the car started, and she should come and get it out of my storage....odd. did some research on somatic, heart, nerve, stem cell, and soma, with some interesting results- art coming soon.

WKRP

Ok, here is a strange one. I read a post on FB last night that Jennifer Robin wrote wherein she mentioned having a dream with Loni Anderson and aliens. then I dreamed I was in a re-enactment of WKRP in Cinncinnatti last night! and guess which actress I embodied? that's right- Loni anderson! I even had to google it this morning because my memory for pop culture personas is like zilch, but sure enough, my subconscious mind remembered- ahh wasted youth...I am not making this stuff up!
the feeling of embodying Loni Anderson in my dream- bleach blond hair, men jealous of my attentions and all, was not unlike her reference to people being possessed by aliens which at first made me wonder if Loni Anderson was perhaps an alien, but then I realized it is far more likely that I am. the dream also involved a very run down apartment full of odds and ends we were trying to organize and sell, reminiscent of wacky willies and some very strange plumbing arrangements...another odd thing about the dream was that even though I was aware that we were re-enacting WKRP, and i even got a sense of recognizing the episode as one I had seen before, (deja vu within the ream, not an actual episode that I can recall) I still didn't realize that I was dreaming in spite of how odd everything seemed. I spent many hours wtching tv hen I was young, but i eplore it now, and have very little memory of early years, but I do remember that I enjoyed that show and thought that the Howard Hesseman character was cool and cute, but in the dream he was jealous because I had slept with the Gordon Jump character whom I am not attracted to. there was no sex scene, so i think we just slept together.

origami tai chi dance

a beautiful dream begins with a magical place in the woods, where we have left our trailer abandoned for some years. Ernest character is there. we are worried the police have come to question us about the old trailer, whose plates and tags expired long ago. they are looking around and find our weed stash, but that is ok because it is legal now. we consider offering to smoke some with them?  then there seems to be a sequence of leaping off cliffs into water, with some gliding about, and Pan has shown us how to make incredible origami fractals of swirling blossoming lotuses. a woman demonstrates a gorgeous form of origami tai chi dance, with colors and tattoos flowing with her lovely movements. we are like "I want to learn that!" and take some photos.

Shakti pat #3

I am eating meat in the temple. It is in my mouth and I am chewing, no one can see the meat, but guru looks at me and I can tell he knows.  He knows about the meat, and he knows about every bad thing I have ever done.  he looks at me knowingly, then winks, and reaches out with his index finger to touch my third eye point between my brows.  there is a bright flash of light, and I awaken, knowing that it is high time I become a vegetarian, and that it will be important for my spiritual journey.  I have tried before, but it was always very difficult to give up my addiction to meat.  This time I decided that after finishing up some leftovers from the night before, I would no longer eat animals with fur or feathers.  I continue to eat seafood, eggs, and milk for now, to ensure that I get enough protein.  the transition has been easier this time, as the dream gave me the impetus and I believe I was ready to make this change.  I have decided that I will enjoy meat with my family at Thanksgiving and Christmas, as is our tradition, and as a reward for my diligence.  I am grateful for the guidance of my dreams.  

shower of treasures from the chimney flue

motor bike stuck on a pillar of stone ask wolfie to help, we almost save it but it tumbles in to the river below. we drag it up and try to get it running again. need to go back out the way I towed the trailer in. on top of the stone pillars is a terrific, though somewhat crooked and unstable house. we are exploring and fixing it up when we find gallons of costume jewelry in the chimney flue. i am showing my mother who suggests giving it all to good will, but i am enamored with it. then we find an elaborately carved altar to kali which i am sure is made of ivory. looking for a suitable place to set it up...

peduncle

woke up with the words french peduncle in my mind from a dream. had no idea what it meant. here is what i found when i googled it. fascinating and relevant in relation to my process of branching out and new growth!

The term peduncle has several meanings:

• Peduncle (botany), a stalk supporting an inflorescence, which is the part of the shoot of seed plants where flowers are formed
• Cerebral peduncle, a band of neurons, resembling a stalk, which connect varied parts of the brain
• Peduncle (anatomy), a stem, through which a mass of tissue is attached to a body
• Caudal peduncle, in fish, the narrow part of the body to which the tail attaches
• Peduncle (arthropods), the base segments of an antenna
• In insect brains, the peduncle connects the lobes of the mushroom bodies to its calyx
• In stalked barnacles, one of two external divisions of the body, a stalk attached to the substrate by cement glands
  --