Archive for June, 2007

Crystal Cave

It’s nighttime and rainy. Two men dressed as homeless people lead me into the crystal cave. They are dressed that way but it is just clothing, they are solid people, very firm in their centers.  The cave is different than I thought it would be. Instead of a big cavern deep in the earth, it is a small place very low to the ground on the street. In the street actually, the entrance is only a foot, or a foot and a half high, more like the space under a tree than a typical cave. One of the men comes in with me, the other stays just outside the entrance, looking in. I am up to my chest in a puddle on the street, in the cave. It’s small, but still there is maybe four feet in each direction. My chest hurts and I’m panicking a little. Bright bands of light illuminate the walls in segments, this is what I am supposed to see. I start talking about leaving. Maybe I am panicking because I’m claustrophobic–I don’t think so. I decide to leave. The men don’t seem to object, the one outside takes my hand and helps me out.

The day before I was lying on the bed with a stone on my chest, meditating on it. It hurt where the stone was, so I didn’t spend that much time with the stone. After this dream I tried just holding the stone and spending much more time–with very positive results.


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Eagle Trips


I am talking to a coworker and hoping she will tell me stories about eagles. I am leaning on something in her direction.  Just  as an eagle flies into the scene, his golden feet trip on a telephone wire. This strikes me as odd, and I am a little disappointed.  I don’t get to hear any stories.

Ha. So actually last night I was talking to my coworker, hoping to hear owl stories. She was caught up on the computer with some drama (which doesn’t seem like her), so we didn’t get to talk. I hope to hear stories in the future.

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1.  There’s a charlatan–spiritual leader. I am still with Ma, but this is a second person to follow. Many people follow him, but I am suspicious. He wants blood. All I have to do is poke my vein with a wire and get a drop of blood. It’s harder to do than it seems. I don’t get a drop, and it hurts. I start crying.

He takes my left arm and gets blood. I didn’t want to use my left arm, because I am embarrassed by my scars. He grabs a piece of my skin near my inner elbow–he pulls it out and makes several new scars. ‘There,’ he says. I am not sure if he did that to be mean, or to tell me to get over my other scars. I’m shocked and feel fragile.

I walk around–so many people are into him, mostly women. I go to the bathroom. Someone’s left their clothes next to the toilet. Asian ladies keep pulling back the curtain and giggling at me. I shut the curtain and try to go about my business.

Everyone’s so caught up in his spell. I’m walking around purposefully, trying to make my mind up about the situation. People talk to me. I mumble about how I am still not sure whether I am sleeping or dreaming, or dreaming or awake. Finally I decide it’s all wack; I am dropping the whole scene and going to see Ma.

Later, I am driving with Lydia (to go see Ma?). We’re in her old mustang with camper top, faded red, white and blue, runs on diesel automobile. She says she’ll give it to me when she finishes paying it off. That’s cool–glad to have a funky old diesel. But odd–how could an old car like this not be paid off?

2.  I go/fly to therapy. It feels awesome to fly. When it starts out I just rise up, so easily. I briefly consider whether I may be dreaming. I look around and the dream is beautifully convincing, and besides, I would rather imagine myself to be flying while awake. I talk to the lady/therapist. I ask her if she wants to fly with me. I am so excited about this. I’m holding her hands asking her, with big excited eyes. She is timid/nervous. She keeps coming up with excuses. ‘It’s not safe’–‘We’ll have to stay on the main roads’–‘But, that won’t be safe either,’ (because it is nighttime). I tell her about how it is so very safe–with flight you can do anything and you’re safe! Even if we follow the main busy road, we’ll be safe above the cars–they’ll just be pretty lights below. We’ll be impervious, et cetera. I love flying. She does not take the bait.

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Harris Hawk Gets Shot


I am in a grassy neighborhood. I see a harris hawk in the trees near me. I move my head around to make sure that’s what it really is. There are many branches blocking it. There is a middle-aged man standing near me. He looks like the type of nature lover who likes to kill things in nature, dressed very redneck. I walk away, but he calls me back over. He says the hawk is dying. I ask if he shot the bird. He says, “No.”

I walk back over. The hawk is standing near us, then laying on the ground. We both would like some feathers. If he has died of natural causes I will take a couple. A woman and her daughter walk by. I hold my hand over the bird to see if it is okay to take feathers. He says no. I look at his chest and see he’s been shot with a bb gun. I guess the man didn’t think that a bb counted as really shooting the bird.

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I am a guy, I sleeping the night in a car, outside a flophouse. I couldn’t sleep inside for some reason. I am with a bunch of homeless people, I am avoiding something/someone. I am dressed like I am homeless.

In the morning I leave and I go to sneak into the pent house that’s not mine, but I will hide out there. It’s night when I arrive and I am wearing a tux. I check in with the concierge briefly, then I fly up to the dining area. My flying reminds me of bike riding. My arms are forward, but low–I fly up to the second story area like I am coasting down a steep hill. To my surprise it is a public eating space, and my father and some people are sitting a few tables away. I don’t want to see him, I’m ruffled. I try to hide my face behind a menu, but I eventually go over to his table. I feel awkward and uncomfortable. I stand stiffly by them in my shiny tux and interact.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about the screech owls that live in the carousel, how their quietness is stronger for living in such a cacophony of carnival-goers. Magic at the carnival.


I am on a wide cement path. About 15 feet ahead an owl lands on a cement planter on the left side of the path. I feel energy rush up through my chest. I am so excited! The owls wings follow him down as he lands. He has a rust chest and is otherwise gray. He has ear tufts and that typical scary owl face. I see his face looking at me. He is maybe a foot and half high.

I look back at the path and see the owl take off from a planter on the other side. I realize I was distracted. Again I feel so thrilled, my chest is filled with bubblies. So exciting to see owl.

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