From a couple emails I sent this morning:
We have entered the next phase. Our birch tree confirms it. The top of it fell over in last night’s storm. The little wren keeps hopping around on the fallen branches, trying to make sense of it all. I have had several external markers this morning indicate a huge shift into the next phase.
I decided to share most of yesterday morning’s dream here, because — while personal — it also seemed collective, even at the time I had it.
6/17/2021
“The Cliff and Bag of Bread Epic”
This was a long, four-part dream. I recall almost nothing from the first three parts, but the last part is clear.
I was in some kind of resort, and Stuart (from Artists and Aliens) was the bartender. He was very busy, just working efficiently, but nonstop. At some point he handed me a large, square bag of bread and asked me to donate it to the delivery truck for recycling. It seemed like if the bar didn’t go through enough bread, then they could donate it to the delivery place and possibly get some sort of credit.
I don’t know the arrangement. Stuart just tasked me with donating the bread. I looked out the window and saw the truck below, turning onto a side street.
I ran fast down the hill with the bread but suddenly found I had overshot a cliff. By a lot. I looked down and realized I was nowhere near the side street and about four stories higher, looking for somewhere soft to land, but there was nothing but asphalt far below.
The cliff had rock face you could maybe climb, but I wasn’t on ropes. Everything was also a little wet and mossy, like it had recently rained. The cliff, even if I could reach it, would be slick. Even if I managed to somehow swing myself to the cliff, I would probably smash my head open. I looked down again and calculated that a normal person would die, but realized I would not.
I knew that fall would hurt. Bad. It would take years to recover, very painful years. No options seemed good, yet here I was kind of floating in suspended animation, four stories above the asphalt, holding a 3×3’ bag of bread.
The delivery truck was long gone, and I continued to scan for somewhere soft to land. I could not believe this would happen to me, that I trusted Stuart about delivering the bag of bread, and it led me to this impossible situation.
After awhile, I realized I should have hit the ground by now. I became curious how I had not fallen anymore. I just floated by the cliff in suspended animation. I kept scanning and scanning for somewhere to land, but there was nowhere. I realized I was powerless to control the situation at all.
After a very long while, I realized I was slowly moving backwards. When I turned around, I saw that the street so far below had raised in a gradual hill as I was moved backwards. I saw a fence with very pointy pickets and thought, “Oh, no, that is NOT a soft place to land. I had this miraculous recovery only to land on very sharp points?! I don’t believe it.”
Whatever force moved me did set me down on top of the fence, but so gently it didn’t hurt. There was a boxwood hedge almost as high as the fence, right next to it, and I managed to climb down quite easily. I still had the bag of bread.
I walked for what seemed like years — a very long time anyway — back to the low spot in the road and figured out how to get back to the resort at the top of the cliff. I think I walked on a road, not climbed the cliff. I only recall my arrival. I briefly debated finding the delivery truck since I had not completed my assignment, then realized I couldn’t find the delivery truck even if one still existed.
Stuart seemed slower now and maybe more of higher management, not the bartender. Tania and Courtney Geyer were there. Courtney asked if I wanted her to complete a painting we talked about a long time ago. I realized I was ready now and said, “Yes, that would be perfect.”
…
There was an earlier part of running a t-shirt through a color photocopier, along with a check, like a bank check. All the sides of everything managed to print at once, and this t-shirt was colorful in its designs. That’s from one of the earlier parts I don’t recall, but it had something to do with the recent event of my running off the cliff and then floating to safety, then journeying back.
I was a new person when I returned from the journey. Not everyone understood that, but it was true. This dream felt epic in scope and also like it tracked with COVID lockdown and disruption of normal life — like we are getting towards the end — not there yet but pretty close. Nothing will be the same [and some people will be angry. That’s their issue; nothing can be done about it.]
Bible flip calendar today: “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us — they help us learn to be patient. And patience develops strength of character in us and helps us trust God more each time we use it until finally our hope and faith are strong and steady.” ~ Romans 5:3-4
END of dream journal.
…
I’m just posting the photo and dream here in case either speaks to anyone on a personal or collective level. I omitted some of the more personal parts of the dream, as well as my interpretation. Just sharing because when I awoke yesterday, I thought, “This is also a collective dream.” As so often happens with me, parts of the dream then appeared in waking life later that day.
It feels like lots of tiny gears all moving together like clockwork. This, in turn, reminds me of two dreams I posted on 2/06/2020, before COVID lockdowns began:
Synchronously, before listening to this, two dreams this morning featured “Time” as a topic, including a wall of dozens of circular clocks, all synchronized, all being kept warm by a “hot plate wall” behind them. The message was one I keep getting, “high vibe and filled with life force energy,” a theme that keeps showing up in dreams about death, mud or dusty wreaths filled with seeds. This particular dream implied that we could “eat Time” and that this time banquet was being prepared and kept warm by amazing cosmic time chefs who knew exactly when and how to serve the right moments as a feast.
In the prior dream, I was in a clothing store, second story, somewhere in Idaho. The female clerk told me that in order to find what I wanted, I needed to cross the street. I went downstairs and began to cross the street, which turned into an intimidatingly wide street.
I crossed at a crosswalk, but the light went through several cycles as I made my way across the street. I was wearing high heeled, intricately carved wooden shoes, which I realized I could not continue to walk in. I took them off, and my bare feet couldn’t continue walking on this road, either. I was already in the middle of the road with cars on both sides. I dropped to my knees, kneeling, and “walking” on my knees across the street.
I worried that no one could see me so low to the ground, that I would get run over. Then I realized that none of the drivers of the cars seemed to notice the lights had changed. Time had either slowed down or stopped for them while I made my way — safely — across the street. When I arrived at the other store, traffic resumed. The store had exactly what I wanted, even though I didn’t know I was looking for it. I left wearing the new clothes.
Wishing everyone peace and love as we undergo another collective shift.