Archive for the ‘flight’ Category


1. I go back to dance class. I’m really happy to be there and see my old dance teacher and some of the people I used to take class with. The colors are all browns. The only thing that is missing is the jumping, we are not doing any jumping in this class. How I love to jump. I get graded on all different aspects of my current dancing. Everyone else is graded too. I worry that my performance isn’t so good anymore. I get an “A”, “as always, lily” on my performance. I dance some more and am so happy. When people aren’t looking I try and do some of the flying I used to do. I do fly a little. The tricks I used in dream time are working now, while I’m awake! Yeah!!!

2. I go to camp, Joan (my boss) tells me to take the Oregon test. Erica will drive me there, she is taking the other test (the Washington test?). This test-taking is something you are normally supposed to prepare for–oh, well! At camp it turns out that you can stay longer. I do and my home is not a cabin, but a cardboard box–that’s what happens when you stay longer, but it doesn’t matter at all it is beautiful and great. I see another guy who’s stayed longer as well, he walks by me as I lay under my box, cuddled up against the grassy earth, comforted by the amazing blue sky that has just the right amount of clouds. I can’t see the coast from where I’m laying–I’m hours in from the water. When I look from above I can see the island, it is so beautiful, and I can see down to the bottom, how just the green top is shown to us, but how the sides go down to the bottom of the ocean. Birds fly above me–groups of birds–several kinds flying together. They are close, maybe I can identify some of them. I am so happy. I love being in nature again. Everywhere is green and fertile, very pleasant.

Waking, a couple patterns I’ve been noticing:

First of all, since before I took my first yoga class at my new yoga place, I’ve been having a “back to dance class-joy” dream the night before my next class. I did dance for about a dozen years, and have really been missing it lately. All the classes that I’ve been taking at Root Whole Body have a lot of movement in them–vinyasa, nia, and even pilates. Which I didn’t really know ahead of time. I am particularly liking the Nia stuff. Each time I have a dance dream (the night before class) it is very related to what happens in class. In this case the class I took (Vinyasa) was a particularly awesome movement class, alas there was no jumping, and I really felt that. It so could have been dance class, if we had just had some jumping! I am on the lookout for adult dance classes in Portland. Or, the night before I first stopped into Roots to check it out: I dreamt that I went to a yoga class where people were doing yoga-ish dance. It seemed cool and interesting. Then I go to Roots the next day, and they say: “We don’t just have yoga, we also have Nia–it’s kind of a mixture of dance and yoga.” Tee hee.

Secondly, these particular dreams happened the night following a galactic activation portal. Galactic activation portals are an aspect of the Mayan calendar–these are times when it is easier to download information from higher sources, i.e. otherworldly information, psychic connections. I would think that I would have crazier dreams during the actual day, but instead I keep having awesome dreams the night following the portal day. Perhaps this is me synthesizing the information/energy that has come during the g. a. p. day. For more information on this stuff, check out: Planet Art Network.


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Plane Wing


Hanging out with three friends. One is an herbalist, one is Martin Crane from Frasier. We get on an airplane wing, sitting two-by-two, take liquid pharmaceuticals and then ride into the evening. I keep my left leg from dangling by putting it up by the herbalist. The first time I have my shoes on and he can handle it. The second time, I have by socks off and he can’t take it–he really doesn’t like bacteria. This is quite a surprise, he seems like such an earthy guy. We all talk a lot. Later we’re in a living room and I ask Martin when he became afraid of water, meaning dreams. He’s behind a bookcase grabbing something and he doesn’t hear. Still, I like talking about dreams.

Wake: So, I am taking an herb class with 2 others and the teacher. I like it very much. Before bed, I asked brown bear and seed crystal where I should best direct my energy. Then I find myself with the herb group :). When I woke up Kevin said that I had been having an in depth conversation in my sleep–but he couldn’t remember the details. I wonder about what makes dreams different that one ends up talking out loud, and clearly or unclearly.

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Unicorn Reflections

I put my Flying Unicorns dream up on the World Dream Bank. Wayan’s comments were helpful, they made me think about the dream more deeply and made me realize how much I miss being part of a dream group.

One thing Wayan said, was “I wonder if Lily is the unicorn, pulled out of her art-making heaven and forced down to earth by a job that sounds about as fun as cancer treatments. Grounded!”

It is true that I have been sick (not with cancer) for the last 4-5 years, and the sickness forced me to get grounded. The sickness made it hard for me to do anything, including my art. Getting grounded and reconnecting with the earth energy has not only made me feel a lot better physically, but is also leading me deeper into my art practice.

Cancer is something that comes up often for me as an archetypal illness in dreams, etc. It’s hard to say what it means for me. The energy of cancer is hard for me to deal with—no problem on an individual level, but very hard for me to say, go on a hospital floor full of cancer patients for any length of time.

Another Wayan observation: “The unicorn with cancer coming to Earth for healing: is the dream hinting she’s stoic, doesn’t care for herself properly because she doesn’t want to be a bother? She says “Oh, I’m fine” but seems more relaxed with the blanket on. Is there a message here?”

The unicorn says she’s okay without the blanket. The blanket doesn’t address her illness, but it does make her feel better. Similarly, this summer I finally allowed myself to be adequately treated with Synthroid for my Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. The pills don’t address the underlying autoimmune disorder, which bothers me, and I am not a fan of taking pills for the rest of my life, so I tried to get by on as little as possible until a few months ago. For the first time in years I feel mentally competent and am no longer suffering from chronic minor, yet thoroughly aggravating physical problems. Thank goodness! While I still hope to turn over the underlying problem through natural medicine, why not feel human during the process. Apparently it will take a miracle for my immune system to stop attacking my thyroid, so really I have nothing to lose. The blanket is pink, a color I enjoy, but associate with candy coating and artificiality–further confirming this parallel between the blanket as a treatment for cancer and my pills, comfort measures.

Wayan: “The dog-nail needed to make the unicorns’ gift work. The biggest one doesn’t fit; the best is the nail from the next-to-smallest. The equivalent of our ring finger? Mysterious because it’s so specific. Just “size isn’t everything”, or something more? Lily doesn’t mention if she has a dog, or a wedding ring, or anything else that’d make that particular finger/toe symbolic. But I wonder.”

I identify this as being the same as the “old black glove” from a prior dream. The old black glove was a dream I used for my last installation of Fly Awake. (Insert Picture.) Both the gun and the glove refer to a mudra, or gesture, used to focus energy. I often use this mudra in meditation, and it does remind me of play guns. The dog nail? I do have a dog, but the nails were not like his. I associate dogs with loyalty—faith in the mudra perhaps. I associate nails, with correctness—as in, “hit the nail on the head”—obviously different kinds of nails, but still that is the association.


One thing came up recently in regard to the second to smallest finger. I was reading about the use of silver. In His book “Gem Elixirs and Vibrational Healing, Vol. 1” Gurudas says, “Where silver upon either small index finger.” I was very perplexed by this…which finger is the small index finger? Perhaps this is an answer to that question–the ring finger.
Lately I have come back to the “old black glove” mudra, but for a while I was mostly using my hands to connect with the earth—get grounded. While I find that I really like using the mudra to focus my mind, now I am more connected to my energy, and the Earth’s, making the mudra not as necessary.

Thanks to Wayan for making me think more about the dream. Stop by the World Dream Bank—it’s getting bigger and bigger. Add a dream or just enjoy what others are sharing.

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Art Show, Mud, Good Vibes

Dream: I walk into my art show with Ben. I can’t believe how big the space is. It’s amazing that I filled it, and really filled it too, not my normal minimal style–there are pictures everywhere. I am kind of glad I didn’t have to face it as an empty room, much less stressful to see the final presentation of my work than worry about installation. Most of the stuff is paintings and drawings, watercolors, oils… It kind of surprises me, because it is just not like my current work. Well, actually it is all the sketches behind my current work. There is another (small) room. I look in and I apparently have filled that room too. The images are smaller (like the room). These images are like the sketches for the sketches you could say. Some of the pictures I recognize as mine, others, not yet.

We walk around, everyone is happy and smiling. There are lots of people there. I sent out five packets of my work to different galleries, and got at show at this one. It seems Ben helped me out too, maybe by his art world influence. Ben walks me over and introduces me to this middle-aged man sitting behind the desk in the gallery. He is the one who curated my show. He looks unimpressed (it seems to be a constant state for him), he tells me, “I’m in charge of women’s art”. As in: this is what he curates. I wonder if that is the reason he picked my stuff, which seems to be a little lamer than just liking my work a lot. Then he walks away, slightly stooped, slightly potbellied, gray hair, holding a paper cup.

I am ready for some air. I try to fly to go outside. Partly I just want to fly and partly I want to show off a little. I feel a little bad about this motivation, but no one notices my efforts anyway. It is hard to fly because I am so tired–I am not sure I am going to make it, but I do. I get out doors (it’s a night time opening) and try to land on an electrical wire. Instead I just hit it with my back. It doesn’t shock me, I guess because I am not touching anything else/not grounded. I land on the ground in the mud, and decide to lay down and rest there–get grounded after the party. Ben comes out and I am worried for a minute that he will think I am immature for laying on the ground like this. (I think I am wearing my white dream dress from my photos.) He smiles and he says, “you are everything I could imagine.” As in: love. He lays beside me and holds my hand. I move my head closer to his and at first he thinks that I am trying to get more space and he moves his head away. Then he realizes what I want and he moves his head closer to mine. We lay there happily for a while in the cool night.


What is up? I have no idea what happened to get such cool dreams the last couple nights. All I have been doing is working too much, poking people at the hospital, over and over again. Blood, complaints, some chilling, but work nonetheless. Actually my work is interesting, because more and more I see how peoples reactions have so very little to do with what/whoever they are supposedly reacting to. For example, I will walk into two patient’s rooms and inform them that I am going to start and IV, one person will say “That is so great, I am so glad someone who knows what they are doing is here–thank you!”; the other person: “Oh my God, can this night get any worse? You’ll never be able to get my veins.” Sometimes I still get annoyed by the not so pleasant people, but overall it is making me not take either extreme very seriously.

Back to dreams: anyways, I guess with all this work I have been really bumming about not getting to do art. For a while the creative juice wasn’t really flowing the way it used to. Now the ideas are coming I just don’t have time to do much with them. These dreams are wish fulfillment–facilities to do art, time to do art (another dream last night where I lived in an art house with Kevin), and space to show my art. Also, today is a galactic activation portal, and I usually dream more exciting dreams at those times. Galactic activation portals are part of the Mayan calendar system, they are times when you are more likely to be open to receiving information from higher/other sources. Also, Monday was my Guru’s Mahasamadhi–when he finally gave up His body and merged more completely with the universe. Days of spiritual potency often bring more intense dreams for me. Basically I feel like I have been very lucky and I can’t wait to dream some more and work on my art in all my spare moments.

The art in my dream is my old style: My goal with my dream (art) work was to bridge the more abstract and often channeled work I used to do in painting and drawing and the very refined minimalist work I do in photography. I do think its working, and maybe that is part of what the dream is saying. That it is presentable. Even if it doesn’t all look perfect, like I like my photos to look, it makes up a great big show. Hmmm…

And, Ben: Well this is someone from my past, an art person that I had a crush on and worked with. But in the dream he really acts as much like Kevin (fiancé) as he does himself, for example: the perfect response to my internal worries, smiles and handholding. But Ben does mean devoting your life to art and that is something I would like to dream up a lot more of in the waking time.

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Dream:  I am sitting  in a grassy  open area  on a hilltop with two friends.  We are watching the flying unicorns. It is a blue sky with only a few white puffs of clouds. There are three unicorns. They prance around in straight lines like they are on the ground (someone points this out). Sometimes they have small white parachutes on and they float up and down. They come nearer to us and then go far away. I focus inward and really hope that they come close. The unicorns come back and land on the Earth–much to my surprise and delight! They sit and talk with us. Part of the reason that they have come down to Earth is because one of them has cancer.


We are all sitting around in a circle. The unicorn with cancer is lying on my left. I cover her up with a pink blanket, even though she says she is okay. Still, when the blanket is on her she looks more comfortable. We talk for a while very comfortably. Then we have dreams where the unicorns come and visit. In mine they tell me that I am having trouble cleansing at night because I am eating snacks too late. We wake up on the hill and we all say how we dreamt of the unicorns. I ask them what their dreams were to see if they were different or the same. One of my friends explains that in his there were chickens.  Ah! So the unicorns had a special message for each of us.

I am in a car in the passenger seat. I have been given a present by one of the unicorns. I unwrap it. It looks like an orange/red plastic toy gun. The tip of the gun is missing (in a sawed off kind of way). The instructions are to put a dog nail (paw nail) into the slot. I have five nails on the ground at my feet–these are complete nails that almost look like there is a little bit of paw attached. I think the biggest one will be the best so I try that first. It ends up that the second to smallest is the one that fits.

I point the gun ahead of me and it supports me, protects me and makes me go faster where I want to go.

I sit on my blue asan, and point the gun forward. I speed past many things. Then I slow down and I can’t get it to go faster. I look and see a team of police officers coming my way. I realize if I had still been speeding I would have been caught by the police officers. Once I get past them I am able to go fast again.

I don’t have the gun anymore, and I don’t see where I left it. I find that I am now able to direct things with my hands. I don’t know where I am going, but my hands allow me to get there fast and easily. I finally stop inside a building, right outside a darkroom and printmaking studio. It is very run down and I don’t have my supplies with me but I am going in and going to get to work–I miss it so much. There is a man there–in his thirties with long curly brown hair. He manages the studio. There are three used iPods hanging on the wall. He doesn’t really look at me, but he picks one and offers it to me to use while I work.  Just what I needed.

I am talking to someone. I am in different clothes–dressed nicer, in some pink sweater. It must be different day, but still at the studio. I tell them I used to do printmaking and photography for the beauty of it, but now it is different.

Wake: Now it’s about telling a story/sharing an experience.  Before the images needed to look totally complete individually, now they should look incomplete without their companion  images, stories, and sound.

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I went to Rhode Island for a retreat and to stay on my friend’s organic farm for a few days. I had a super time with both. I got to see some deer–a mom and kid–very sweet. I hadn’t seen any deer since I got to Portland (not surprisingly). The East coast deer look very different from the Midwestern deer. They have a more reddish coat and more bambi-ish in general. I love them both, but the Eastern ones are cuter! Unfortunately everyone is very afraid of them because of the deer tics that are spreading Lyme disease like it is going out of style.
I saw lots of little animals and birds on the farm. Here is hummingbird for beauty and art, butterfly for transformation and frog for cleansing.






I am in a small space. A human-sized beautiful white swan is right behind me and another person is behind the swan. I turn around to look at the swan. I try to help the swan to lift off and fly by singing the trumpet song. The swan sings a little and stands up a bit. But the swan’s wings are very short, only a foot or so long and she can’t get off the ground. It may also be harder because there is no wind and we are so close together.

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Flying Again

It’s been a while since I’ve been flying. I don’t remember much, but…


I’m in some situation and I decide it is time to lighten up a little. At that moment I float up. My body appears as though maybe I was laying on the floor on my tummy like a baby before I floated up. I am pretty happy about this little trick. There is some light yellow color around me–perhaps wall paint.  I do some flying.

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