The next three blogs are based on a sequence of three dreams, one per night, three days in a row, three weeks ago.
First dream:
I’m riding on a narrow mountain highway on a bike tour of New Zealand. I see lush vegetation on one side of the road and a precipitous drop off on the other. Enjoying myself as I ride down the winding mountain side, I feel the presence of the mountain, feminine, immense, timeless darkness. I also experience a feeling of transition, a movement through and down, much more than a descent in altitude. After a time I reach the bottom of the mountain. On my left I see a gas station, convenience store and restaurant. Feeling hungry I walk in to the restaurant. I ask for a seat. I’m told the only seat is with a family. “I’ll take it”. Once I’m seated I introduce myself to my meal mates, a mother, father and their daughter. They are from Mahia they say, which is not too far away. They also have a son but he isn’t with them at the moment. The comments about their son feel odd but I don’t ask further questions. I eat and talk with them. Afterward excusing myself I walk over to the gas station with my bike to check the tire pressure. Then I stuff puffed white popcorn into the spokes of the wheels as an offering to the goddess of the mountain. Walking my bike towards the highway I see a young man in a wheel chair near the convenience store. I go over to speak with him as I suspect he is the family’s missing son. I say hello. He doesn’t speak or lift his eyes. Thinking he wants to be left alone I start to walk away. He raises his hand which stops me. Lifting his eyes to look at me the young man motions towards the highway. I realize he wants to come, to ride back up the mountain with me. Thinking about his desire I know it will be very difficult for him, slow for both of us. Still there is something about him that says we need to take this journey together. Okay come on, I say. He turns his wheel chair around then we move through the parking lot to the highway together.
Rather than working on the meaning of this dream, the symbolism of the crippled boy, and the masculine connections among others I have a desire to relate to the images with active imagination.
I first explore the dream by looking for a Maori translation of Mahia. There are two defintions “place of indistinct sounds” and “to do”. Ah, the vibration of Eros is in the air I think to myself. I feel I am on the track of something new. Keep going I say to myself. Finding a quiet, open space in myself, I bring the imagery of the dream and the two definitions forward. I wait.
After some time I see and hear the following exchange- as I turn to walk away from the young man he holds up his hand to stop me. I notice he holds a piece of paper offering it to me. I reach out to take it. As he hands it to me he murmurs whenua moemoea (land of dreams). At this point I stop the imagination.
For the rest of the day I consciously hold the imagery as I go about my daily routine. I have the second dream of the series during the night. Later the next day I have an urge to go on a bike ride with my camera. While I ride I continue to be with the imagery of the piece of paper. Returning home I stop, as I often do, on a small curved black bridge over Whitemud Creek. The sun is low being late afternoon. Looking down in the creek water I relax opening my heart to the moment. After a bit an inner voice says here is the image on the paper from the dream. Take it. The picture is below.
At home now I gaze at the picture for quite a while. Slowly moving back in to a relaxed state I continue holding the image in the picture.
Suddenly a voice arrives from within saying great mountain, queen of the world, smoke rises from your head, fiery white heart and water. She is water and the future.
Readers might take the imagining from here. From indistinct sounds a form or image arises out of which new paths can branch out endlessly, each something new.
Water is rising.
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