Dreamtime

Just got back from the off-leash with Maxwell…eaten alive by skitters, but so happy to have been in the sunshine.  I love it when my neck starts sprouting freckles…it’s summer!  Whoot!  Whoot!  Stopped at the Co-Op and picked up Quinoa, Tofu and ‘stuff’ for daughter #2 to cook us up a vegetarian dinner.  Going to head for the garden…so happy to see the asparagus coming up again this year and Mary’s strawberries are multiplying.  Last week, when I turned the soil and added the sheep manure, I ached for a couple of days.  I’m expecting the same good feeling this evening.  Those kinds of I-haven’t-used-these-muscles-for-a-month feelings are so so good!  The day is filled-to-the-brim with great stuff and summer-feelings, that’s for sure! 

It was an interesting sleep…I woke up, fully aware of having had dreamtime.  It’s been quite some time since I had that wonder-filled sort of sleep.  Bits of images, at waking, so vibrant that for a time, I had to sort out the new reality of the day.  I saw my mother in the dream, but more-particularly, I heard her voice.  It came over a PA system in a huge school.  I was in a classroom, separated from her by escalators, elevators, many desks and hallways…but, I heard her voice.  I was in a wheel chair. The time on the clock was 2:35 exactly.  I was supposed to meet her at 3: 15.

Her voice called out, “If Ms. Moors is in the building, this is her mother.  You are late.  I am afraid.  Please come to the office immediately!”  I set out, rolling, dealing with one huge obstacle at a time, frustrated and anxious that so many barracades were keeping me from telling my mother, “Mom, you are ok.  You are early.  We are not late.  I am ok.  I am trying to get to you.”  I woke before getting to my mother…looking at the dark ceiling of my bedroom…feeling my dog’s hot breath on my face.  Max staring down at me, I began to separate the story from the story.

While drinking my morning coffee, I called my father.

John Tjapaltjarri: The Tingari at Pantjantjanya, 1993

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