Alchemy

Strange occurrences unfold at night. On Easter or as I prefer, Ishtar, dreams of a fertile womb. A sign this heart is evolving and I am aligning with the seeds of spring. How beautiful to feel so connected and in love.

The very next evening, trickery, the universe wants to play. Peacefully, in the small hours, eyes flutter open. There’s a figure standing at the edge of the bed. Still as the night, their face glows in the darkness. Overcome with fear and panic, I cry out. Suddenly, synapses connect and I realize, it’s Kincy. I share a room with her at my cousin’s house (or as everyone properly refers to as the Doctor’s headquarters); she’s back from spring break. Her eyes barely move from the glowing screen of her phone. In unison, knowing laughter escapes us, but it is much too late to give a hearty effort. I roll back to sleep.

Later, as if to reconcile prankster terrors of the night, I wake myself up laughing aloud from a dream. Curious night, you present me with surprises.

The air is ionized. Every evening the sky strikes up in lightning. Palm trees outlined in yellow and purple brilliance. Shutting my eyes, I breath electrified air. Dreams are infiltrated by a galvanized atmosphere. Alchemy.

I walk up a spiral staircase, but suddenly I’m holding on by my hands and arms, as if the world has turned upside down. There is no fear of falling, no questioning of this trick of gravity, and no knowledge as to where this Escher-like staircase leads. There is only determination.

Under another evening’s sleeping spell, I live in a world of concrete- stories stacked on stories, escalators, elevators, vendors, and back alley apartments. There’s a frantic element to the air, this world is on the verge of collapse, and I sense it is biological.

I venture down. Down, down, down to the underground. I know I’m not supposed to be there, but I wander freely, unnoticed. Glass rooms where scientists work, hallways filled with people, steam emanating from rooms of science. I know the answer is there. I go back up and tell everyone, “Go down, underground, you’ll find safety there.”

Morning. Eyes open. I rise. Walk down the hall.

“Yadra, Fay.”

“Yadra, Yadra.” Good morning, good morning.

I write, I read, I stretch. Breathing in the smell of wet earth that only constant rain can bring- this weather that keeps me inside, and in turn, inward.

Within my creative process dreams merge with walking life, alchemically the symbols breath themselves into knowing. The path becomes discernible: inward, go inside to see.

The journey from night into day, darkness to light, dream and waking life, I wander the trails of this existence and feel the singular bond between my blood and ancestral grounds. It is here I am meant to connect the outer and the inner worlds and fuse my own alchemy, the magic of this life.

Tears to Heal: Ayahuasca

It’s 4am and I’m wondering.  I woke up from an alarming dream and tell myself, I will always be a work in progress.  To always have sweet dreams is like only having happy thoughts.  That is not the world, that is not me, and I accept.

To accept myself, I realized under a jungle canopy of twinkling stars, is part of finding myself.  The Ayahuasca was strong in my blood.  I held myself, looking up at the night like a child, I thanked the gods for the beautiful woman they created.  I thanked the universe for this love inside me which I wrapped myself in.  I cried for all the beautiful thoughts that ran like a river, flowing, meandering, weaving through my mind.  My eyes a great canyon for which these thoughts escaped as tears.  So many that the salt seemed to dwindle, to my lips I could barley taste the sea, they were now fresh water.  Water for growing.

And yet, how could love feel so sweetly sorrowful?  The sacrifices of my parents, even before my existence. The torments of those I loved.  The struggles of those and of which I know not.  Heroes. The love I’ve been afraid of.  All of it, I felt.  All of it I released back into the darkness and sent sweetly to the ones I love.  If you wondered was it you?  It was.

That night, I was blessed with the remembrance of my first memory.  In the womb.  I was apart of my mother- The Goddess and my own mother. Protected in a brilliant light of red and orange.  I cried for us, the mothers.  And as the healing song reverberated in my ear in a way that spoke to my spirit, it was then I knew, with more certainty than I’ve ever imagined, one day I will be a mother.

Gracias, Gracias, Gracias.

Dream Compilation 2015

  

 Blue lotus Sippin’ 
 8.3.15

I had a dream last night that this alien woman (who looked human) was stealing everything that defined me as fuel to bring herself home to her alien planet.

Her way of transportation was a parachute that would bring you up into outer space from the ground instead of bringing you to the ground from up in the air.  It was orange.

My belongings started to disappear out of thin air.  Just the act of thinking of something I owned would cause it to disappear.  

The first thing was my favorite brown, wooden box that my dad gave me for Christmas one year.  Engraved and painted on it is the Ryder-Waite tarot card of the sun.  A card of hope and good fortune.

I realized that all I would have left is a body, but not even my name to call myself by would be left. 

I lay in my childhood bed.  Everything was dark and bare.  Lifeless.  I lay looking out the window, everything was grey.

9.15.15

Strange dream about a frog that conversed with the holy men.  He was on another level than the humans, but people liked to talk to him, although I seemed unable to.

His housemate was a beautiful woman.  He lamented that he saw her as desirable but he was just a frog.  Strange!

Then I dreamt about the most beautiful sunset and the ocean.  I took pictures of sheep and a shepherd on the horizon.

9.22.15

Dreamt of a frog again with human capabilities.  This time it was steering a canoe behind me.

9.25.15

I had a cosmic dream last night.  Difficult to remember, but there was a teacher presence.  Beautiful swirls of blue.  Pieces of long, thin sticks.  I was asked to write something in the dust.

‘Stand Alone’