Dreaming.
I dream vividly and graphically.
Last night found me dreaming at each end of a spectrum: scary, violent; beautiful, intuitive, insightful.
My first dream was of a war zone. I won’t chronicle this one; suffice to say it was fairly accurate.
My second was very tapped in to my emotions. I don’t remember many details of the early dream, but the important figures include my father, my beloved townhouse in Phoenix, my children, and my husband. I drove away from them all, intending to go for a run before realizing I wouldn’t be able to. There was something about “Swedish,” and harp, and a magazine publication that had cameos of smiling, warm community members. Perhaps I was included?
Was I trying to practice archery? I shot an arrow a bit too quickly and it went into someone’s yard, or house. I went to go get it; I couldn’t find it outside and somehow I found myself in a room looking underneath an old brown couch.
Also, I was naked.
If anyone came into the room I was going to have to try to squeeze myself under the couch to hide. And of course, I heard footsteps and the sound of the door opening across the room. Try as I might I couldn’t get my entire self under the couch before I was caught. I quickly proclaimed innocence, I was only looking for my arrow and I was very sorry.
The person who discovered me buck-naked in her house was a very gentle older woman with the kind of demeanor that makes you feel like an instant friend, and a twinkle in her eye that says she’s not too old for shenanigans. She located my arrow, which looked intact but was in fact broken. Sigh. She took me upstairs into her house where she had a wonderful world of things.
She had a beautiful medium-sized harp with the most graceful lines, but it had no “feet” on which to stand it up and so it rested on its back. I picked it up and tucked it into a “cradle” I make with my legs and feet when I play early Gaelic harp, except this harp was much bigger and more cumbersome than my little golden-strung Trinity. It had a wide and gently curved body that came to a point at the base; it had a very gentle harmonic curve; it was tall and had long strings. I struggled a bit to get it into place; I knew that once I had it and could play it, it would have such a beautiful, light and sweet sound. My hostess found me trying to adjust both my seat and the instrument, and she kindly suggested I try standing it up on a table.
When I moved to do so I saw paper peeking out from beneath the clutter on her table and I came to discover she was a healing harpist. I also discovered that she had, many years ago, been to the same school as me and knew the same people. She had evaluations written from my same teacher, telling her that she’d never be a harpist; she had other written feedback from a peer (a person I love and admire in real life) saying she was a lovely harpist. The lady smiled at me and I don’t recall if in the dream she explicitly said anything about her journey or if I just somehow knew that she’d grown much past the voices that told her she wasn’t good enough and that the voices of support had grown luminous in her to give her eyes that light that I saw. I also somehow knew that she was a beautiful and beloved teacher, although I saw nothing that indicated a teaching studio.
I woke up from this dream in awe. Some people believe that dreams are reflections of ourselves. Was that fae lady a reflection of the best and most deeply held parts of myself? Did she come to me to show and remind me that there’s more to be found within than I ever give myself credit for?
Whatever the truth of our dreams, I feel a peacefulness inside for which I am grateful this morning.
Categories: dreams, emotional hangover, Harp, harp dreams, healing, Living YES, music dreams
dreaminghorse 