From the Workshop "Dreaming With Stone" at the International Association of the Study of Dreams (IASD) Conference
(June 5, 2014 in Berkeley, CA)
When I picked up my stone I immediately knew that it was going to present my life's story about my spiritual development. I saw a fine line that went from the ocean through the conscious, subconscious, and superconscious minds into the heavens and connecting with my Real Self, the I Am. One side showed the work in the conscious mind being highlighted with a cloud in the sky that looked like the angel of hope. The seed idea of being like the Creator was within the superconscious. The other side showed that the inner Self was much larger than the conscious mind. It reminded me that it may appear that our physical world was great, however the inner world is vastly more expansive and is the true nature of reality. Looking at both sides of the stone reminded me of looking at my left and right hand like reading my palms with my past, present, and future. As I talked to the two people in my group, Tina and Robert, I could see that in order to reach the I AM there needed to be a risk, a change from "my will" to "Thy will" consciousness.
Stories from a Workshop at the Dream Institute of Northern California
March 4, 2012
In this place I see a man on a cliff. It is dismal. I see fire bleeding into different layers of the earth.
There is a war going on amongst these beings and the sky is streaked with fire. Some of the beings
are riding the fire streaks.
I see a Jesus like figure struggling to retaliate.
On a cliff - in a different time and place (though it still speaks of destruction) - there is a wolf.
It is as if the land is struggling with land.
There is a long, elongated seed that seems as though it will survive. I smell a musty smell - which
is where the wolf retreats to after seeing this.
Once upon a time there was a God in the Earth and a God in the sky. Both Gods were expressive Gods but the
God in the Earth had the curse of being buried by layers and layers of ground - such that, it took 10,000 years
for his voice to be heard (which was usually felt in earthquakes).
The people that lived on the surface of the land were mostly concerned with the Sky God, who had a beard,
and whose effect on them was more visible. However, over time they became curious about the rumblings
below in the Earth that held them. They were at last able to dig deep enough one day to make contact with
the Earth God.
The Earth God was exuberant and restless, and shot something boldly out of the hole in the earth, which
hit the Sky God. This angered the Sky God and threatened his power. So began the war between Earth and Sky.
The human beings were caught in the middle of this chaos. Many died.
One man was able to survive by crawling and climbing up the side of a cliff. Up there he met a wise man, who
leaned against the back of a dead tree stump.
"What will we do in the midst of this destruction?" asked the survivor.
Said the wise man:
"Sit and wait and watch
The air you breathe is you
The earth on which you sit, is you."
And so the men sat and watched as the atmosphere waged war.
The primal shaman stands in front of the world tree.
The ancient eagle emerges to show the shaman the boundary between heaven and earth
which is the path the shaman must take to meet the source of creativity.
There is a line that goes through the top of the tree and the shaman's head to the source and center of the earth.
The shadow falls from the standing shaman. This is the realm of illusion, unreality and attachments.
The line passes through that as well. The shaman stands on and is of the earth, beneath him is the land of dreams
and it is the life blood of the world tree.
There are beings that live there,
that also live in the world beneath that, which is unknowable.
The line also passes through this realm.
The beings act as intermediaries between dreams and the earth with the source.
The are needed because of this unknowable realm.
Even though they exist and are necessary,
that line that exists from the shaman's head to the world tree, still runs through it all.
I travel across the earth,
above and below
and meet the stranger
the view from above
reveals energy rising
from a solid foundation
beings sinking down
into the depths
from a solid foundation
They walk to the water's edge
Bathed together in the water
They hold one another
Touching without fear
Skin touching skin
Heart meeting heart
In the midst of the explosion and blood
all pervasive peace arises
Great accomplishments achieved,
moment by moment
drinking eachother's stories
Being at home
Being on the adventure
They exchanged Eternal time - the now -
with the warmth of blood
Bringing to Both
the ease of living
Once upon a time, we were four and we were so terribly lost. We led ourselves in circles under a nasty molten sky.
“Where are we? When do we eat?” One asked, because his tummy had begun to rumble like rocks moving in mud.
“Hush now! No complainin’,” Two said, because she couldn’t stand to hear him whine. She’d been all around the world and seen all kinds of places. Once, she put her whole arm down into a half-collapsed mine shaft, and when she pulled it out again it was stained berry red and covered in ants. Tree explains things like that as “the work of God.” That’s what he says, over and over again, day after day out here, pointing at things as they crest into view: a cloud-whiz skull baking in the sun (the work of god), a barren tree with branches cracked and to the sky (the work of god), a river flowing red with blood (the work of god). Feels like the end of the world out here, and him always chanting “the work of god.” Me, I’m not too worried about it. I had a dream in the night – (and I always believe in dreams) and in it a great forgotten something was leading us into the wind, into the great unknown, with a staff like a divining rod lifted to the sky. Out in the dream, as in life, we missed the shape of the staff, divined nothing through the rod, and saw only her arm, the shape of her clenched hand instead.
Once upon a time an old dead oak tree remembered his life as a man. A man who came to live on the same acre of forest that the dying tree now lives. It’s life as a man he thought which is much more trying, even in these times when the lives of trees are not kept sacred. As he was reflecting on these thoughts of life as a man , along came a group of people who appeared to be on a hike. When they reached the tree they commented on the state of the dying tree. Of course being a tree couldn’t understand their strange talk. As the others walked away, one girl stayed behind and without using the same language as the others said without words, “you remind me of my great Grandpa, you have such a gentle smile.”