Sharing this dream, a tale of passage. There are friends who will know of whom I speak, a name no longer necessary, for those who have stood together on the sacred field of trust and truth, for those who are courageous enough to be transparent in our walk through these now ongoing five years, those not bound by creed or religion, our only guide has been to be-come knowers of the Truth of Love, thank you all.
For my dearest friend who speaks in the unseen worlds of silence, allow my words as confirmation of the essence of you. Thank you.
For many years my recollection of dreams was scanty to practically null, so to find myself in a lucid dream was a gift I gratefully received.
Three nights ago or so, time has lost its hold to the continuum of flow I dreamt thus.
Standing with my beloved in our little garden outside the kitchen door we held the silence of observer, no words passing between us. He turns and walks through the door into the apartment we have made home, a few moments later I follow to find that he isn’t there. Looking around I see the far side of the kitchen open into a passage, a soft smooth ivory stone glows revealing a high arched ceiling before my gaze, I walk into it as it curves gracefully to my left.
No recall of walking, more like floating through this space I arrive at a pool of water, it seems to have a light aqua sheen that defines it from the arched cathedral ceiling and stone walls, the far walls evaporate into space. Entering the water to my waist I continue moving in a gentle curve to my left, following the shape of a crescent moon.
Approaching the further point of this crescent is another set of steps leading out of the water into the passage, there stands an old man with his feet on the first step touching the water. He is so old, his skin has gone pasty white and he is fully nude. He feels like he is dying and can’t move. I am not repulsed though I know not to touch him or get too close so I quietly take the steps up to the passage, my right foot touches his clothing shed and submerged under the water at the bottom of the step.
Continuing to the left I reenter the garden outside my kitchen door and see a rather well used cloth satchel, the colors are yellow and white. I reach down to pick it up and notice a mailing label, it has hand written the name of a man I was married to, addressed to him c/o Standing Rock, North Dakota. My thoughts are that I must have dropped it when unpacking my jeep a few days back.
Opening the empty satchel I see his name again written inside in blue ink, this surprises me as the ending of our relationship was a very difficult time and my inner self has been working out the subtle mesh of entanglement for the past few years … no reaction arises other than to ponder this.
Reentering the kitchen door, there this man stands giving me a little surprise, more like a curiosity than anything else. I greet him by name, finding an inner surprise that no fear, no remorse, no recriminations pass between us…
He has shrunken in stature and taken on slight dwarf like appearance, his skin sags around his face which is swollen on the left side as he has an infection in a tooth, the pain obvious. His hair is scraggly and the clothing he wears disheveled and shabby.
He speaks in a garbled low voice, an adamant desperate plea; “No one knows what it is like to be me, no one understands.” Indicating his swollen face, he clearly is referring to the pain he is suffering.
“This is me, I choose this and I will see it through to the end, nothing will deter me from this path.” he growls.
Barely able to lift his gaze under his hooded eyes he looks up briefly. I nod that I finally do comprehend and from me flows a compassion that I have never felt before with the full force of the realization that this choice is his purpose. Compassion way beyond empathy fills the space and the scene dissolves.
To describe the sense of peace I felt is not possible, the only words that come are to say that something vital in me went free and knowing as I do that freedom was granted to another.
This is the dissolution of my personal relationship with a narcissist … what happens on the outer planes remains to be experienced.
The narcissist, we all have that archetype within ourselves so no judgment is passing in my words, merely peers into the water and sees himself, his image and reflection on the surface which be becomes enchanted with.
True empathy carries the light and dares look beneath the surface into the deep well.
For many years now, like a spool of film developing as it is run through a solution it is apparent that many are assimilating these archetypes and patterns with the self, transmuting them and in the process integrating the lessons they carry.
As individually and collectively we walk through the more subtle veils the great revealing manifests.
This morning I woke with a single vision, an old book, the pages worn and browned turn before my gaze as the writing disappears. Aware of many standing together as we turn the pages, viewing the dissolving of the scripted, scripture that has been our guide and our bondage as well is released into the freedom of space.
Love is space as you so often say, the message between the words I reply.