This moment crystalized. Love. Sun and Moon in her sign conjoining Uranus, bringer of great change.
I also live with the broken one, The Twin.
And there’s the Witch. What apple is this,
The art to wrangle it back? Vision paints the way,
working still in fractal. Because that is the path.
Over the river and through the woods, my
Body’s intelligence still has intelligence. That
Is a way to integration. The connundrum gnostic.
There is now the vision of elasticity, of the causality.
I have my boots planted in the future. We are ready
To record the multilayer discourse. I have a feeling
this is the shoes.
Cat-like. Immaculate. Every gyre a fresh blueprint,
For all made anew. Bursting late spring. In resplendence.
We purify the world through specificity in chaos,
Moving with the grace of a dancer, movement
Precision in motion from which flows fractal, the
Renewal. Expansion. Evoking a world apart,
The husk of what is dead falling away. Shine.
Shine forth.
I am in a city of sorts, surrounded by gargantuan mountain peaks. There is a building hewn of sparkling white stone rising skyward, and a rushing river rushing from the base of the building toward a waterfall. This is surrounded by many trees and a park-like area. I’m in a boat with a woman whom I know well in the dream, but who I don’t know in waking life and we’re talking, marveling at the beauty of the surroundings. The scene is stunning. We watch the sun set behind the mountain peaks. Everything in this place shines with some kind of internal light. Not like things glow, exactly, just that they are so vividly alive that one can see and feel it intensely. The boat, it seems, should be pulled by the current toward the waterfall, as it seems there is no means of propulsion, yet it doesn’t react to the current. It goes where we wish for it to without any external effort. I ask how this is possible and my companion says she doesn’t know and that it is rather fantastic. Later, on the shore I’m walking and talking with a man who is my father. Not in this life, but in the dream that’s just who he is and we’re in that park-like area by the river. Through the trees one can catch glimpses of other structures, but where we are it’s trees and grass and really lovely gardens filled with all kinds of blooming things.
This is a type of dream that is lately common. I am in places I don’t recognize speaking with people whom I don’t know from waking life, but who I am quite familiar with in the context of the dream. What is discussed I can never really remember upon awakening, and yet I know that they were giving me information about things deemed important by all involved, including myself. But when I wake up I am left only with the memory that I was told important things. I have a sense that remembering these things is something that will be a process and that I’m not supposed to fret about it particularly.
Deep blue Pacific
Roiling waters crashing surf
Swell cirrus skyward
Fire and rain to mingle
On the terrestrial plane
Tame furious flame
