Wednesday, June 8, 2011
sleep once more perchance ...
Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions. ~Edgar Cayce
… my dream upon waking this morning, which ironically occurred during a heavy hailstorm (first of three storms of the morning and part of a storm system that continues as I write), had me standing in our dining room, coffee mug in hand, dogs at my feet, when over my shoulder/out patio windows came trucks and heavy machinery which in short order annihilated and clear-cut the woodlands behind, next to, and on up the hill behind our house.
I went out on the deck which, while still attached to the house, was teetering out over this gaping hole in the earth, with water rushing down and all the trees felled and side-lying as the machines drove off, one by one, down the hill and away from the house.
Surveying the obliterated landscape, I paced the deck and then ran to get Mark and Ali in order to show them what happened, to which I woke up & into Mark’s words saying, “It’s 8 o’clock,” since he was my human alarm clock this morning prior to leaving for work/travel.
I still go by the adage that it’s not so much the symbols in your dreams, though they are important too, so there’s much to be said about the gaping hole, the flowing water, and the side-lying trees, the earth movers and such, but I prefer the approach wherein you’re supposed to recall how the dream made you feel.
And this particular dream made me feel angry and a little afraid.
I love the enclosure-type feel to the back lots and all the trees that are meant to stay there, even though the area has been developed, our house part of this development. Without these trees for cover (in the dream) I was anxious, irritated, on edge, put out and pissed off.
Shortly after the quick feel-through, the dream all but disappeared. By the time I ran my hands through my hair and tried to re-right it's tossled situation, the dream was gone for the most part. I made no mention of it to Mark before he left--really, what person in their right mind tells a man leaving for several days that they dreamt half the house was teetering over a pit of fallen trees and rushing water?!?! Not a good idea, just saying!
Mark left, Alice slept on and my day roared up to meet me. I actually missed my morning coffee and there were no deck meanderings or reflections this morning. I ran off, instead, on an adventure with Mark’s dad, keeping him busy at the hardware store, Menards and breakfast at the coffee shop, while Donna met with the visiting nurses about a new breathing apparatus and the “next steps.”
Middle of the day, I came home, ran Alice to work, worked myself, gently teasing one of the dogs for being nervous about the pending evening storms and the other for not giving a care. Walter hid back to the world) in his kennel, Henry slept nonplus at my feet as I finished my work.
As the last set of storms rolled in, I closed “shop” for the evening. I took the dogs out on the deck one final time to “1 and 2 it” prior to the downpour and noise. This was when I remembered the dream again.
The irony of how it’s wacko-do-weird to dream early a.m. about a clear-cut anything prior to a night of predicted severe storms was not lost on me!
I saw the humor (or terror, depending on how you think about it--mostly humor) in this but did not dwell there. I was lost instead in the lushness of the still muggy world around me, though it was breezing/easing up around the edges, and the trees were moving again rather than glopped into the ground and sky scape.
I relaxed to the pre-dusk melodies of the songbirds, one with the trees for the night, the same performers who will be there drying wing and renewing beak play at pre-dawn.
And I suppose, if I wasn’t so eager to get to bed and enjoy the sounds of this storm, I’d stay up longer and go over the various symbols in this dream (the gaping hole, earthmovers, clear-cutting, rushing waters, teetering decks), and also the various reasons why I felt angry and afraid (anxious, irritated, on edge, put out and pissed off) at the vast open-ness of my surroundings after the earthmovers and workmen made their fast bug-line getaway, but I prefer to sleep once more perchance ...
Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you. ~Marsha Norman