Dreaming, Journeying, Flying

Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Crimes to the Third Degree.

I haven’t dreamed much in the past two months, or if I have, I haven’t remembered them much. That’s changing again, and last night’s dream was very symbolic for me.

Flying By Night novelUntil the first few weeks of January, I’d had months of interplay in the Ether, particularly with a male presence I found highly entertaining and very sweet, though terribly busy with his work. Yes, a subconscious fragment of a man I knew last year, playing around with quantum physics with me, even though he probably doesn’t realize it. Maybe the reason his visits lessened was that he was able to pull together his fragmented soul a little better and not send those fragments of himself to me in his sleep for healing. Or maybe he was just too preoccupied with work to remember that I was still there if he cared to make the “journey,” though very late on the night of February 11th , he scared the beejeezus out of me when I was wide awake at my computer.

I wonder if he realizes what he did. Probably not. I don’t think he’s aware of his abilities.

My interactive meditations started to take hold around the time the dreams lessened, shifting to something else. So then the interplay involved talking to him in my wide-awake visions and then seeing and hearing him respond. And then that shifted into the full-fledged visions and the snippets of my own “journeying,” though I’m not even sure that’s the proper Shamanic term for what’s been happening. I do know that the ducks playing in the puddles of water on the street last night were quite pretty and tranquil….

But I’ve been fragmented myself for the past month, doing the proverbial long-tailed-cat-in-a-room-full-of-rocking-chairs thing with all my projects and work and my dad’s illness and a billion things crashing in all around me (I get a flash of a different planet, rocks jutting up out of the ground, me running from rock to rock for protection as fireball-meteors hurl toward me from a Grand Fixed Cross in the sky.) So maybe my own stresses have kept me from dreaming as much, except for the new occurrence of visions that show me things I didn’t want to see about certain people and show me other things I need to know about others I love.

Night before last, I dreamed of new people coming into my Circle—excited and friendly, positive-minded, focused on the spiritual vs. the material, doers instead of talkers, interested in both learning and sharing—and with a promise of old friends returning as well.

Last night, near the moment of the eclipse, I dreamed I was standing on the front porch of an old house, but it was on the edge of a precipice. I’d always been afraid to get too close to the edge for fear of falling. I tried several times to climb onto the railing, which wasn’t very wide, and stand there to afford myself a better look into the distance and what was beyond the precipice. I’d climbed onto the rail several times before and had tried to grab the awning/roof above me to hold onto or to swing out from. But I’d always been afraid and not very adept or graceful.

Something clicked for me in that dream—the realization that I become more powerful every day, that I learn more every day, and that by practicing it, I succeed and the fear of failing and falling vanishes as my confidence grows.

So later in the same dream, I climbed onto the railing at the edge of the precipice and looked down at my bare feet on the white wooden banister and how they curved confidently over the slightly rounded railing. I didn’t fear losing my balance. I was more experienced now than the time before and the time before that. Then I reached high for the awning above me and sank my fingertips into the wood to hold onto to swing out over the precipice. I felt the roof give way a little, as though it weren’t really steady enough to hang onto, but I swung out anyway and then back to my solid banister.

There was a sense of wings, but I wasn’t quite ready to fly. I knew it was coming, though. I was getting better at what I was doing. So if not flying, I was definitely comfortable on the edge of the perch and ready.