The Cosmic Womb

TRANSCRIPT:
Here is a dream that I cannot create imagery for and does not want to be flattened down by the written word. It can only be spoken and walked through with voice.

I am in a house, and it is my house, and it exists outside of space and time. I am hosting a gathering of people that I have known this lifetime, but from different places and ages, and some of whom have passed and are no longer living. But here they are, in my cosmic house. And I am preparing the space.

I am acting as a psychedelic guide, and I am pairing them up, men and women. One man, one woman, to embark on this journey. And this has nothing to do with sexuality or gender. This is just the symbol for the Divine Feminine Energies and the Masculine Energies. And those are, Masculine being our more action-oriented, discerning, rational energies, and the Divine Feminine being our more receptive, open, intuitive, psychic energies.

So here they are, paired up in perfect balance, and I am the psychedelic guide, and I feel very competent and capable in this role, but at the same time — outside of my dream body — I have a dual awareness, and this second awareness is my waking life awareness. “Waking Life Claudia” is there and she's there as the witness and the observer of this vision, where I am acting as the guide or the shaman.

That's when I realize that there is no sacred medicine to dispense to the people. That the path to these alternate realities, or to the ultimate truth, requires each woman in the pairing to spread her vulva as wide as possible for each man to enter by his head, as if it's a reverse birth.

This is the “The Cosmic Womb”. This is the Divine Feminine Womb. There's nothing sexual about this. It's just depicted in a very graphic way within my dream. And this is the point in the dream where my husband walks up to me and he says, “Okay, it's your turn.”

I very sternly shake my finger at him and I say, “No, I am not the portal.”

And then I show him a diorama of my own womb or vulva, only it's not anatomically correct. It's not a diorama of that. It is an ancient, petrified forest. And I say, “Don't you see? This is not a portal.”

And that's when I wake up and I have those words ringing in my head: “No, I am not a portal.”

And I sit with this dream for the whole month of October. And I have other dreams that shed more light on it. And then I come to an understanding of how to act as a conduit and a guide without being used energetically as a portal.

But beyond that, if I was going to bring it down to Earth, as close as I can to the 3D-level I would say that we are each our own portal. That this pairing up of the men and the women was not a message that we need someone external, like a priest or a shaman, to experience other truths, other realities.

It was just the message of the balance of both, of being grounded and yet open to these divine cosmic influences, and of experiencing existence that way. Through your own portal.

A lesson in time — the eternal youth and the wise crone

Sometimes the goal is to drop the “I” from all your sentences. To identify less and less with your self or your sex or your station in life. And sometimes there is a need to do the polar opposite of that — to hold on to our form in a closed fist, to re-tell our personal myth over and over again, drop roots into the earth so our spirits don’t float away. I try to let go and hold at the same time. I am a woman with aspects of all different ages and genders within me. In my visions, I ring the church bell of my cathedral and I call them all home.

Night dream, October 22, 2022

The small boy within me dives into a cenote, but is unable to climb back out. He waits patiently for me to save him.

I’m scared, I say, I don’t know how to swim. But I jump in anyway.

This is the entrance to my underworld.

There is no way out, except for a spiraling tower that belongs to the wise crone within me. It’s locked. She has the passcode, but she can’t remember it in her old age.

The small boy and I know we will eventually become this older woman as time passes, bringing along the memory of the code.

All we can do is patiently wait.