Well, this is interesting...
Following my Lava Love dream the other night, and then the bird dream that was followed by contact with a real bird, the Lava Love dream now seems to have a counterpart in Waking State. I turn on the T.V. tonight for some background noise as I work, and what do I find... a movie on SciFi called DISASTER ZONE: Volcano In New York! LOL! Yes, it is over-dramatic and filled with stock footage, but I just thought the synchronicity was interesting. Especially as the visuals have the ground softening, boiling up, and swallowing homes and buildings. It's not QUITE the apocalypse of my dream the other night, but it's just... interesting.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
Wow... another odd dream, followed by even stranger Waking State:
I dreamt I was interacting with a really playful bird; something like a little parakeet, but not a parakeet. Maybe something like a Conure? Or maybe a baby parrot? The bird was really affectionate, as most birds are (and unless you have cared for a bird, you probably don't know how amazingly affectionate and sweet a bird is). It would ride on my finger, clamp his beak onto my finger, gently, and make those sweet bird noises I remember so fondly. At one point the bird was walking about and around a little dog's ears and head, grooming the hair on the dog, and the dog would just nuzzle the bird. I don't know whose dog this was, but the bird and the little dog got along just fine. I was laughing and just feeling really good about all of this cross-species affection and kindness. The little dog would occasionally open his mouth to try to lick the bird, but the bird would open his own mouth and try to pick at the dog's tongue. It was hilarious (in my dream).
I then made some kind of joke out loud about how the little dog had better be careful because he could hurt the bird unwittingly, and I put my fingers on the back of the bird's neck to kind of mimic an accidental attack, and to move the bird a bit away from the dog's face. The bird freaked out in a loud squawk and then collapsed!!
I could not believe I just killed this little bird! It just lay there. I picked the bird up and felt this horrible wash of sadness and regret and shame for killing it. And then I just decided this can't be happening...
I put the bird to my face and blew into his beak. I kept blowing in rhythms and could feel the bird's belly fill, then empty as I breathed. I then took my finger and thumped it gently against the bird's chest in a rhythm, too. I did this for about a minute... and then lay the bird back down to leave him alone. I was devastated.
And then the bird shook on his side, lifted his head, eyes bleary, and then shook himself to his feet, feathers ruffling, and going back into place. He looked up at me, ran his little feet over the few inches to me, and just started nuzzling and making bird noises! I was SO HAPPY!
So that was the dream... but tonight, as I went to do my laundry, I was putting my clothes in the washers, and suddenly I saw something right in my face at the edge of the washer's top. My eyes focused and it was a BIRD!!!
A teeny, adorable little sparrow! He just sat there. I didn't want to scare him because he is already apparently trapped in a basement laundry room, so I just looked at him for a second and stood still. The little bird walked toward me, so raised out my finger very gently and reached for him to pet him. He let me! It then dawned on me that he may be really sick or something and I started thinking of ways I may be able to catch him and help him, but before those those thoughts could finish, the little bird flew up on my shoulder, chirped really happily, and then flew incredibly acrobatically out the door of the laundry room, around the corner, and then out a crack in the door that led from the basement to outside.
What the...!?? Any dream/symbols of life interpreters out there?
I had this most amazing dream the other night:
As some of you already know, I seem to have a constant stream of apocalyptic dreams in which I am running for my life, and I never really see how they end... I just remember the running.
Well, in this dream the world was folding in on itself. Yes... folding in on itself.
The ground around the world was losing solidity, softening and churning, swallowing people, homes, cities, continents, and replacing it all with molten lava. No one knew where it would hit next, but we did know that it seem to be spreading exponentially. As the earth began to fold in the distance from Manhattan, there was a stillness in the air, with little panic from the city. People were going to rooftops to watch the glowing horizon gently silent the screams of people in the distance, instantly turning people and things into bursts of flames. As the ocean around us started steaming and shifting and parts of the city began to fall, I went down to to the streets with others who were anticipating trying to maneuver the flooding and folding of land and lava. At one point, the ground completely dropped from below me and my arms caught on the ledge of earth left behind, which allowed me to climb up and out of the huge canyon of heat, but as I stood to steady myself, more of the ground began to drop, forcing me to run and climb away in a race against this spreadig collapse. I was able to find solid footing and I stopped to look around me at the people falling into holes, canyons, fires, lava, being buried in debris and rubble...
Then, quietly and softly, an arm came around my waist. In the dream I seemed to know who it was, but in Waking State, I really don't know who it is. His arm came around and I embraced back. We stood in this one solid spot as the ground around us was replaced by lava, crust, and heat. There was grass and a small tree where we stood, so we lowered ourselves down to sit and lean into each other's arms. The world was gone. It was silent.
And suddenly the ground stopped shifting. My view pulled up and away from us to see both of us weeping and quiet, looking out into the nothingness, sitting on the only green island left in the world. The earth around our little island was blackened and red, but it began to solidify and cool.
We didn't even react to this...
We just wondered how and why we were the only ones left in the world... or if there were other survivors.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Yup, today is my birthday! 39 Years Old. Amazing. Fascinating. Bizarre.
One of the strangest things to watch in this world is the aging of a person. The stigma against growing old is so insidious, so permeating, that even when you feel great about growing old, you are considered at least a little bit in denial at best, and just flat-out lying or crazy at worst. Well, I am one of those crazy people in denial, I guess, because I have loved growing older.
Sure, it is baffling to look in the mirror and see the subtle and not-so-subtle changes of time and space writing the stories of experience into your face (and chest, and belly, and legs, and....) but it's beautiful. It is beautiful.
My body is my story... is part of my story, at least. Yes, it's a bit scribbley and wadded up in places, but there are notes saved here that have saved my life.
If my emotions and spirit and mind were able to be seen as clearly by others, they would also show scars, wrinkles, depths and exhaustion; those other "bodies" would reflect my compassion, my wisdom, my evolution. In the same way that it is baffling to look into the mirror at your body, it can be as baffling to look into the mirror of a relationship and find the strangeness of aging there, too. It's all just a part of our story. And everyone has a story that is eventually written across the skin, the mind, the emotions, and the soul.
However little we appreciate this, I trust that there are levels within us that truly grasp the truth of this beauty that transcends the local and current societal pressures and taboos. All Flowers In Time Bend Toward The Sun... there must be SOME shared level of consciousness among all of us that knows and feels the truth and beauty of the process of life. It's there... I see it hidden beneath the pressures and pain of others hiding from age. It's there...
The secrets of youthfulness are not found in Anti-aging assaults against the self and a dread against aging. Ironically, the fastest ways to look and feel old is through those very things. Can you imagine the impact upon the body, mind, heart, and soul from the resentment and resistance against seeing the effects of our amazing stories? This is a weight that I choose not to carry.
When the day comes that I die, my load will be light, and I hope my story was something someone found worth weaving into the story of his or her own skin, as well.
As part of my birthday gift to myself, I have decided to clarify my intent in writing in my blog from now, on. Rather than treat this only as a journal for collecting experiences, commentary, and rants, I am turning this into a place to explore the "Higher Side of CocteauBoy." When I look back through my blog in the years to come, I'd love to see the insights, solutions, and inspiration that I was able to pull forth from me, rather than just the daily-ness of existence.
I'm also looking to make this more interactive, with questions posed to readers. I'm really interested in feedback and personal experiences related to what I may write.
So, for starters, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR GROWING OLDER? Do you see the beauty in this, or just the closing in of death? Do you find the youthfulness in your flow and embrace of life, or do you find apathy, resentment, and boredom within the conclusion of aging? When you answer, include your age, too!