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Thursday, December 10, 2009

Dreams To Contemplate

Some dreams...

I worked at a job making ice cream and HUGE ice cream sandwiches. Chris had worked at the ice cream place, too, but said he could only support our family for four days a week because he made so little $.

I was in a dye studio with a white, circa '50s stove. There was a large pot on the stove with indigo dye in it. In the pot was a standing sheep, wicking up the dye from its legs to its entire body. The sheep didn't seem to mind the low heat. There was a tarp on the ground with an indigo urine vat on it. I was wearing handspun socks on my feet and got the idea to dip my feet into the vat to achieve the same wicking effect. It either didn't occur to me or didn't bother me that my feet would be dyed blue, too.

Woke up with a headache after dreaming of taking an English test based on the grammar of just one sentence. I realized I hadn't studied well and couldn't properly answer what I was supposed to know. My brother, Jack (who had crossed over in the '90s), apparently took the same test in another room and finished early. He was outside my classroom, laughing and talking, making me all the more anxious.

Dreamed of Ma. She had very little grey hair and it was done differently from any way I ever saw her wore it...a French twist in the back. I told her I was 30 and that she was 50. She looked surprised at me. I said, "I've forgotten that over 20 years have passed. Right, Ma?" She agreed. I said that this is the second time I've done that. She said, "I have more grey than I thought. It's the light that makes it seem not so."

Dreamed of some kind of epidemic. Folks were OK one day and dead the next.

I was teaching a spindle class of about 6 people. One woman persistently interrupted me whenever I said anything. I left the room for a bit (to a side room that looked like a guest room) to regroup and figure out what to do about the woman. She found me and asked, "Are you a Shaman like your mother?" I thought...if my Ma was a Shaman, she sure didn't know it. Then the woman tried to call another passing student into the room, showing her a stuffed kitten in a pouch that was hanging on the wall. The other woman declined coming in.

I was a servant in a big house. I faked that I knew how to bake bread. The crust, as I kneaded, was like a piece of foam core and kept sliding off the dough.

Two "sort-of" nightmares that went together. "Sort-Of" because I wasn't scared...more of an artist/observer. One dream took place in Antarctica. I was sitting on ice watching for cracks and soft spots. I was not cold at all. I saw how dangerous the situation around me was but noticed, as well, how beautiful the ice was. I even imagined myself going under water if I fell in, figuring I had about 15 seconds before I died. It wasn't an awful experience. The flip-side, second, dream had to do with earth and hay...a similar situation to the one on ice except the land broke up, as in an earthquake. Again, I witnessed it all as an observer, but felt no pain.

Another fiber dream. I was teaching a spinning class in a building that seemed like my old grade school in Detroit. I had just finished successfully teaching one session and realized that there was a lack of time to get to the next classroom. I walked into what I thought was my room to teach and began to apologize to the class for my lateness. At a podium was the Yarn Harlot, with odd Botoxed lips, who had already began teaching what was "her" class. I apologized and left. When I found my room, it was filled to the rafters with students...60 or more. I apologized to them all as I tried to set up for class, realizing that there were no tables upon which to put my stuff. The topic for the workshop was color blending of fibers and I realized, with horror, that I hadn't been told how many were taking this class. After scanning the room, I knew I didn't have enough materials for all of them. Just my dream...I said, "I don't need to deal with this. It's just a dream." And I woke up. End of dream.

1 comment:

  1. I like that feeling knowing that something is just a dream. I seldom remember any at all let alone the good ones.

    Have a lovely day my dear Spider!