I have been very busy working on my Women’s Legacy Project launch. While this is essential work to continue upon the writing path I have been following and then clearing and creating over the last couple of years, I have had to neglect some things to focus on others. Life can be cruel. It gives us energy to pursue mindless passions in our youth, and once our passions turn to mindful pursuits our energy usage also has to be mindful because it too is limited.
I have to share the bare bones of a dream I had. My dreams are sometimes summaries of very complex analyses I have apparently been performing for quite some time until my brain can spit out summary images as an icon, symbol, and index rich abstract of my thoughts on a subject. I doubt I am the only one who does this, although I may be the only one who writes about it.
THE DREAM
Walking through a library that symbolizes life. A young man in the persona of a well known news anchor found some loose floor boards that led to a hidden section of a library.
Several of us, a small group, made our way, climbed down on HVAC pipes and rigging, into an older stacks area where hidden resources were being accessed by a few dedicated researchers.
We wandered through these archives that were store houses of copies off essential documents and resources which the common library users did not access due to preservation practices. Some areas were dusty with disuse but other areas showed signs of eddies of activity. We went deeper and deeper through the dark, close archives until these archives were no longer composed of paper but took the form of ceramic ware.
A woman who worked in the upper levels of library but had access to and awareness of the lower archival areas turned out to be a poacher, married to a survivalist even though she maintained documents about and access to information about the delicate ecosystems from which her family poached.
As the dream developed it became evident that whole families lived in, or had taken refuge in, the lower, difficult to access, archives. I then found a different way back up to the main levels but it still required climbing pipes and infrastructure to exit.
On the ground level, where windows were still obscured it became evident that there was an angry crowd of men, camo-clad fundamentalist men, hurling insults and rocks at women within the building.
Then a scene change, for time, showed the archives were in a war zone and damage was evident.
The horrific end of the dream found me hurling hand grenades to defend the archives. We turned the poacher over to the authorities and then we also sent chemical-agent contaminated individuals outside to infiltrate another group, similar to the rock throwers in their fundamentalist fanaticism, but who were on the opposite side. Both of these groups wanted to destroy us and our archives.
Then I woke up.
Next post: interpretation of this dream.
Wow! What an active (and unsettling) dream! It’s amazing that you can remember such detail. As soon as wake up, it seems, I forget mine. I do remember a couple of very real dreams I had as a a teen. One was that an airplane crashed into the house, right through the wall of my bedroom. The other was a bus accident. It was a tour bus carrying famous musicians. They all perished, and no matter how much I willed myself to help aid the victims, I was frozen. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, nothing. Both dreams were petrifying to me.
May I interpret? You see big and troubling things happening around you. You want to make a difference. You want to do more. You feel stymied. My take: go for your dreams and do not let frustration with not achieving them quickly enough get in your way.
Most interesting, Nancy. My husband keeps urging me to write down my dreams too – sometimes they’re scary, most times they’re hilarious. I like how people I know find their way into them. Makes me wonder what my subconscious is up to!
Hi Corinne, I do not always keep track of dreams but sometimes they are so vivid and follow me into the waking world and I just have to share them. I encourage you to write about them if you have even a tiny bit of interest in symbols, meaning, and thought. It is fun though sometimes disturbing.