breakingsod.com

What do you suppose it means when you wake from a dream with the message: “The princess didn’t come into her full powers until her father was castrated” playing over in your head?

It was an intricate fantasy confection of a dream, too. I was at times the rather misadventure-prone princess and at times her faithful companion child(boy, I think). We were scalawagging around the countryside when she was called back to the castle by the Queen(not her mother). We entered the Queen’s Chambers and She was occupied, finishing a painting of a half-naked maiden, while the Prince, her son, and her retinue watched. The young woman who was modelling for Her sat as though petrified(which she probably was). We had to wait attendance on Her while she finished, though we knew from the nervous glances of the courtiers that something dreadful was about to happen, or was already happening. My princess, familiar with court ways, played along, bickering in fine faux-sibling fashion with the Prince. He seemed a spiteful character, but she was trying to connect with him somewhere under all that, where perhaps (we hoped) he was still just a small boy.

When the Queen turned her attention on us, it was indeed horrible. Her gaze was penetrating, malicious and so very cold. She didn’t say much, but we knew at once that she had taken our father, the court wizard, into custody while we were gone and had summarily sentenced him to castration!

Somehow, the princess and I managed to flee and she commanded our way past confused servants into the subterranean temple vaults where he was being held. Furious, my princess fought her way to him, but she was too late, the evil deed had been done and he lay on a pallet, attended by nurses, looking old and weak and drained.

She cried out in anger and despair and laid her head against his heart. He cradled her and comforted her and a great sense of blessing descended on all of us. He seemed to grow larger, strong and shining, golden. He spoke to us without speaking and we felt the power flow into us and fill our hearts and minds and bodies. The princess and her father floated up to the ceiling and somehow I was with them, even as I was watching from the floor of the chamber. There was a lovely big tree in the center of the room, glorious and shining, studded with tiny, intricate ornaments that seemed to be spun of crystalline honey. The wizard and his daughter plucked them, or perhaps created some themselves and handed them to me and everyone present. Mine looked like a lily flower made of translucent golden wire.

We ate them and they were ambrosial, amazing.. Melting away in a sweet surprise that lasted long after the substance dissolved.

My dreaming brain cracks me up sometimes.

Last night I’m trying to help my boyfriend adjust things inside our vaguely car-like vehicle. Making my usual hash of it -as I tend to do with any technologically advanced assisting. He says he’s on it and I turn to him and say: “What do you want ME on? Besides your cock”. (Can you mentally roll your eyes at yourself in a dream? Yes, indeed). He gives me this look that’s questioning, laughing and hot all at the same time. Apparently it’s been quite some time since we last had sex. Our eyes speak volumes. He lays his hand on his promisingly abrupt erection. But…

For some reason, we can’t just tear our clothes off and get down to bizness. We have to find a PLACE to do it(why not the “car”? I have no idea, it seemed ideally suited to me, being mostly open space inside, lined with pool-table-like greenish felt) and apparently it also involves a lot of masturbation on his part. So we detour through the landscaped yard at his mom’s(?!) and find a likely looking spot amidst the rhodies. He starts to lay me down on the grass, but I look up and see that we’re right below the living room and his mom is watching TV. “Hey, we can’t do this here, your mom’s up there -she could look down at any moment!” He says: “What’s she doing?” “Watching TV and…” I glance up again. “Um, same thing WE’RE doing, actually”. And it’s true. She’s got this giant dildo and-

We move again. This time we find an exercise room and we start moving the multitude of exercise bikes out of the way to make a little lovenest in the middle of the carpet. Or at least, *I’m* moving them OUT of the way. He seems to be crowding them up against us in an ever-shrinking circle. I protest, saying we need space to flail about and we won’t really want exerbikes falling on us. More masturbation. Hmm.. All this fluffing is starting to worry me a little. I seem to recall far less prep and far more leap-and-devour-like-hungry-beasts in our previous sex life.

I move towards him with intent and as the bikes start to fall, I wake up.

The noteworthy people from my life often enter into my dreams, serving my subconscious self as guides, messengers or characterizing different pieces of me. I had a great one last night.

My favorite massage therapist and teacher(of meditation, chi gong and massage), Svadesh, was giving me a massage. We talked all about the various symptoms ailing me and in the middle of the massage he decided we should change tables and so we went outside, where he had a table set up out on the sunny, warm deck and he finished the massage most wondrously in the blissful sunshine. I lay for quite a while just soaking up the beams and then we went for a walk arm in arm along a road through a gorgeous forest of tall conifers blazing emerald green in the summer brilliance.

Yay for magnificent healing dreams!

People and places often recur in my dreams. I think certain people(especially people I’ve loved and lost) and places have become potent totems for issues that challenge me in my current life.

The trailer I grew up in used to enter my dreams all the time. I haven’t dreamt of it in years and then just a few nights ago, there I was, running down the long hall to the back door to let in a poor kitty I’d seen through the window that was stuck out in the snow. This dream… was quite unlike the ones I used to have which usually had a strong, ominous sense of being trapped and trying to break free. I opened the back door to let the kitty in and then a little kid picked it up and brought it inside along with a whole bunch of dogs who were herded in by a mastiff-headed man in a yellow suit whom I immediately(and somewhat snarkily) addressed as: “Jack.” (as in Coyote Jack) He growled at me and said he could easily kill me and I laughed and said: “So?” We got along quite well after that.

This dream felt good and I felt strong and funny and powerful, quite unlike the dreams I used to have in that particular locale.

Last night I surreptitiously stole a Trollboat and was not-so-surreptitiously pursued across a lake by it’s jet ski empowered goblin minions, harvested megatomatoes(the size of those ridiculously ginormous pumpkins that win the prizes at fairs) and hitched a ride with Esther and Jerry Hicks, who were very sweet despite my falling asleep constantly and apparent incompetence in locating my sleeping bag.

Tonight, I want to sleep the sleep of the just(ly relaxed).

I’ve earned it!

Last night I dreamt my mom and I were talking in a well-appointed house. We heard a bonking noise from above and I looked up and saw, through a hole in the ceiling, a hole in the attic roof. Falling into the hole was a humonguous, fluffy-looking white shape.

“Does that look like a polar bear to you?” I asked my mom, somewhat flabbergasted.

She concurred that the cloudy shape resembled a white bear and indeed, the farther it slipped into the house the more it looked like one. It slid through the hole and fell into the house, landing(guessing by the muffled thumping sound) in the living room.

My boys(Sam and another) ran to check it out and mom and I hurried behind them. I figured the animal might hide, but there it was, a yeti now, comfortably ensconced cross-legged on the couch.

Sam was sitting next to him, poking his leg. I said: “Don’t poke the yeti, Sam. He’s our guest.” The yeti didn’t really seem to mind the poking though.

The dream refocused then, I found myself staring, enchanted, at the art on the mantle. It was a painting, shaped like a house, of a house with an owl in the attic-beautifully detailed. Immediately, I knew it was an important protection charm.

There were several others, all house-shaped, with owls as the guardian spirits. I knew I wanted to make these myself.

……………..Now I just need to find some house-shaped wooden canvases!

Sam has apparently inherited my tendency to intensely detailed and creative dreaming.

He told me this morning he’d dreamt he was a lower level goblin who was using origami crystals to defeat his enemies and then move on into the cavern where he could magically create basketballs in two different sizes.

Nice.

Whereas, I dreamt I was trying to rescue people from lying down on a threshing machine. They didn’t think it would kill them, despite the bloody evidence. OK, dream guides, I’m listening!

And then, on the lighter side: I was prepping my little goddess sculptures for a photo shoot and noticed they’d been dipped in chocolate!

Another interesting character met in a dream…

(click to embuggen-er, I mean embiggen)

..but mine are certainly of the bizarre variety, if my dreams mean anything.

I had an intense day yesterday. Tried to go back to work and gave one massage and my head/neck started to build up to their “We’re either going to explode, or you’re going to pass out” threshold. So, I went home and bawled and worried and panicked about not being able to earn any money while the doctor bills and rent use up all my emergency funds-not to mention why the Hells I’m still sick after four months…

Anyway, my mom came over and comforted me and I calmed down and slept and-

My friends and I were being chased across a rocky desert by demons and we’d outpaced them and were catching our breath, when we glanced up and saw a condor circling, with a high-power rifle in it’s claws! Holy crapamolly! This odd sight stopped us in our tracks for a moment, until we realized that, duh, quite likely, a condor who wielded a rifle was in cahoots with the demons and even if it wasn’t, chances that it was going to be nice and normal and wait for it’s prey to die naturally were highly unlikely.

So we scrambled poste haste up the rocks and hid in a gazebo-like structure. Almost immediately, the demons caught up with us and surrounded the gazebo, grinning merrily at how neatly they’d trapped us. Amazingly, I found a submachine gun amongst the rocks(probably dropped by a clumsy luddite buzzard) and after fumbling with it for several tense moments, managed to turn the safety off and empty it into all the demons. Bullets ripped into their chests and they staggered dramatically, falling to their knees. And then, stood up, laughed at me and spat all the bullets out their mouths onto the ground. Shite, I hate demons with a sense of humor.

Inventive bastidges too, they put my companion in a glass container, filled with water and the demon chief(who had me by the arm) froze the top of the water about ten inches deep with some sort of gesture/spell. The other demons were chortling and taking bets as to whether my friend would freeze, or drown first. I was angry, but there was nothing I could do, somehow the creature that held me had rendered me powerless.

But my friend apparently was not. Not only did he NOT oblige the demons by drowning or freezing to death, he began to sculpt the ice into a stag. A freakin’ gorgeous ice sculpture stag! I was delighted, my demon captor however, was pissed and decided to take it out on me by breaking my knuckles, quite delicately(as one would crab legs to extract the tasty meat) with a tiny hammer. He asked me which hand I painted with and I said nothing(that was the hand he’d started with anyway and I figured he was only asking to torment me).

I woke as his hammer struck my hand harder and found my hands were tucked uncomfortably between my legs.

Ah, dream logic.

…through a deep, snow-laden forest by dapper old gentlemen with snowballs in my dream last night! I had to climb up a tree to escape…

WTF?