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| The secret door on the side of Granny & Pop Pop's place in Jersey is now gone |
I don't recall how old I was when I started dreaming of a house,
a very specific house.
Multi-level with winding staircases, it has rooms that lead into more rooms which are well lived in and used. Plush beds have pillows and comforters laying on top of them, sturdy clothing hangs in closets and on open doors. It is a well lived in and used home, and every time I return I am always both excited and energized by my experience.
A sense of awe usually greets my feet as they travail this now comfortable terrain on these subconscious journeys. Into the dark trenches of the basement they tread and up into a dusty attic they climb. Of course my house also has a hidden passageway - a secret tunnel that leads to a private space that only I have made myself unapologetically privy to. Camouflaged in a wall, in a dark room, down a decrepit hallway, I sneak towards this secret space (although I did, once before, actively invite others into it and this may have been not long after we opened the doors of the Prosperity Hive). Curiosity moves me toward this space - each and every time - even as my BodyMind fills with butterflies anxiously fluttering in my belly, for the ghosts of my ancestors live here.
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| In my adult life, I once felt like this. |
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| However, this has always been an essence of my Spiri |
from a dreamscape that included both this house, which has been a recurring dream that has graced my life since childhood, as well as a newer, repetitive theme of my running late for and missing an airplane. For the past year, or so, I have been trying to take off on a destination to somewhere else. I am always running late and procrastinating on gathering my belongings together. In my dream, my anticipation slows my forward movement as the hands on the clock quickly tick toward departure time. Obviously, this causes me distress which slows my motion down further. As a result, I have yet to make it off the ground. I have missed many planes!
This morning, my frustration came to a bubbling point as I threw a temper-tantrum and then cried my eyes out at my own failure to launch. Today, not only did my male traveling companion make it to the plane on time but it was my parents who gave him a ride to the airport! Insult to injury!
Ironically, I awoke in the comfort of the cave this morning grateful for this journey because I had finally transmuted my e-motion into a forward propelling agent. Although, I didn't make it onto the plane this time, I allowed my tears to arise and fall as I channeled and then released my pent-up anger with a physical fit. And, now, I am ready to fly.
