The Dreaming

I was in Egypt for two weeks in November, anchoring myself in temples and tombs along the Nile River. My dreams in Egypt were potent and bold and alien, but I have yet to translate them into a language or imagery I can share.

Dreams tend to screen themselves as something mundane to avoid breaking our brains. My husband says he only dreams of boring things like emptying dishwashers and riding passenger side in cars — but those dreams are also potent, and they have messages too.

I had several dreams of Susan Sarandon gifting me things and taking me under her wing before I realized who she symbolized. She was my Goddess archetype and once the goddess broke through me (read about it here), I stopped dreaming of Susan Sarandon and I started dreaming of the Goddess herself. Sometimes the goddess appears as Isis, or she is a beautiful warrior woman with wings or sometimes she is me. A screen is no longer needed in that case.

In Egypt there were no screens over my dreams. The veil was lifted and I was shot out to other planets, rapid-fire slipping into other consciousnesses — most of them not even human.

I remind myself that these visions are not fixed realities inviting me to come and live within them. They are tools to help dismantle the mental frameworks that were never mine to begin with. The ways of thinking that were handed down to me externally.

When you decide to spiral inward instead of out toward the world, you'll quickly discover there is a deep, deep abyss within you — and it is roaring.

In dreams I fly, I stretch across time, I create new realities, I shape-shift, I teleport, I talk to angels, animals, aliens and ghosts.

Dreams act as floodgates for the imaginal and the imagination. They create new ways of seeing that will defy everything you knew before.

With that said, in waking life I will never levitate. I will never manifest billions of dollars. I will never wake up one morning in a different timeline or reality.

I have limitations because I am anchored here on Earth, and before I was born I made a promise to play this thing out as human and to play by the rules or laws of nature.

And all of that is OK with me, because I have my dreams. And when I leave my body at night and I travel through the worlds, it's not an act of escapism. It is a radical act of humanism.

I only have this short blip of life and I hope I'm doing it right, and some people stay in school forever or go to church for guidance or fill their brains with books, but I just go to The Dreaming.

Every night is like reaching into a grab bag of universal consciousness and pulling out other-worldly views of time and space and love and humanness.

Here is an unedited stream of consciousness after one of those dreams in Egypt:

Monday, November 14, 2022, 11:49pm. Dream notes. They are showing me my home planet. I can’t confirm if it is Mars, but Mars-like, red rocks. Someday they’ll find the tombs there. Maybe my body is there or maybe I only had a light body, not a physical body. The creature life there glowed in the dark or was bioluminescent in psychedelic colors. Maybe I was a creature or maybe I was ALL the creatures. One entity … the entire planet breathing in my bioluminescent veins. I danced like an aboriginal with neon colored ink on my body. And when I danced new realities materialized before me. Dreams were my bloodline, like now. This is just one lifespan. Non-human. Not of this Earth. I have transcended before on another planet. This is why I feel like a gypsy, why I have no roots, why stability can sometimes feel like a prison. All these facets of life we chose for ourselves are man-made obstacle courses for us to “remember” and grow past our temporary circumstances. I have to extend my soul spirit out past this planet, make it reach back in to the future where the past begins and connect all my lives on the wheel of time. All that wisdom from other lives, other planets. The fruits of my experience. The wheel must become that. When I say I have to “get off the wheel,” I mean I need to be in the hub driving it, fully remembering all my alien lives. All the aspects can come home now.  

Deep Continuity: the spiral web your soul weaves

A goddess of spiderwebs of alternate timelines and dimensions (Midjourney)

I dream of spiders and spiders can dream.

For several nights, I dreamed of stumbling upon spider webs. One night, I found a rainbow-colored web in the back of my closet. It was woven tightly like a sweater. The strongest material on earth made by the most fragile bodies. If you drop a tarantula from a small distance it will break and die.

In another dream, I was between the walls of Space and Time when I saw a book about the future trapped in a spider web. An old-timey radio broadcast came on and alerted the public that this book was being changed from the past. The words in printed copies were being altered as they were read.

The dream messengers said I could do this too. Write my own life across timelines — backwards and forwards. Change the past to create new futures.

Still the message is just a metaphor. Symbols are flat. And animal totems are shapeshifters. Dreams weave themselves outside of time — the meaning of them is revealed only after patience and reverence. So I carried the dreams with me for days, trying to fit them into my reality like puzzle pieces. Then one morning, I woke up to find a spider had spun part of its web on the lawn. It gleamed in the sun. I meditated on it quietly, until a meaning arose in the form of a question — what is the deepest desire that drives you?

I think of my parents, because I am a continuation of them. Their desires are encoded into my DNA and my whole life I've tried to disentangle my identity from theirs. My father, who never wanted to be poor, would spend hours shining his shoes only to hide his holey bottoms. My mother, even as a child, could never escape the male gaze, and it splintered her into a hundred pieces.

Fears often disguise themselves as desires and sit behind the wheel of all our decisions — these are things that need to be rewritten.

Your true desires are separate from any external influence. You sense them in the trajectory of your life. Every decision I have ever made has been driven by the desire to feel freedom and connect with God on my own terms.

So this is what I do. This is how I time travel. I connect with my deepest desires — not my parents, not anyone else's. I go back and sit with younger versions of myself. I consult and console. And each time I return to the now, I come back with another piece of my puzzle. This is how you establish Deep Continuity.

Sometimes I meditate and sit with my 60-year-old self. A woman I am getting to know little by little. She is graceful and wise and boundlessly loving, and I always ask her — how do I get from me to you? The path is not clear. One time I asked her in a dream "What is the difference between me and you?" and she responded, "Pull the universe toward you."

Deep Continuity is the spiral web that your soul weaves. You can travel it, back and forth across your life. You can quantum leap into paths not taken. You can extrapolate into futures not yet created. You can pull the universe toward you.

You can do this, because you now know what drives you in every direction.

Disembodied spirit check-in

"You're on Earth. There's no cure for that." ― Samuel Beckett

We gathered in a dream — a check-in for disembodied spirits.

A man told me I was looking bright and brilliant — better than I had before. There was a loving warmth in his words, and a familiarity in the way he spoke to me.

I alluded to a recovery. Another spirit stranger piped in and asked if I had been dying. He thought by recovery I meant a terminal illness.

I was surprised at his question, as if he should have known me better. I said, “No, I’m on the life path/plan right now — same as you — we’re all dying.”

When I woke up I knew that by recovery, I meant something in the heart chakra that needed restructuring. A healing had occurred that made my spirit shine in the dream realm.

I was grateful for my disembodied spirit check-in. We were a family of souls catching up on each other's reality progress.

I considered how I could accomplish this in my waking life. How to conduct a disembodied spirit check-in with myself.

There's a divorce that needs to happen – between reality and the spirit. A disentanglement of your identity from your life path.

“How is it going?” Your spirit friends will ask you.

Failure, disappointment, heart break — you all laugh about it together.

That's just what it's like on the life track, someone will say.

You see humor in the hurdles.

You see the finish line and are in no hurry to get there.

No one is competing.

You hang back. You catch up with your friends.

You all look bright — like new stars just birthed.

Grow another face

You’re aching to give voice to this other side of you. It’s beating like a new heart just below your skin. We have no language for this and we don’t talk about it and no one, but you, will give you the grace to change. 

You must grow another face. 

This is an all-out grab for more and more consciousness. You want to swim in multiple waves of depth and you deserve that. You deserve to be fed more than just algorithms. You are the one pulling rabbits out of the cosmic hat. 

You clawed your way out of the abyss to be here now. So be here now. 

You must grow another face. 

There is a mythical land called Shambhala where some say Jesus and Buddha might reside, and others say it’s not really a spiritual kingdom but more of a diamond, where every ascended master is a facet or a separate side. 

You are also multi-faceted. You are allowed to be multiple you(s). This is what true depth is. You can be different now. Grow another face. 

We are afraid to be complicated. We mute ourselves. We stay on the surface of things. Flatten our desires. We think growing new faces means mental illness, but you’re already living with multiple voices and none of them are yours. They belong to your parents and your friends and children — and they are all outdated and uninformed. 

Reformat yourself. Auto-update. Delete. Do what you have to do to grow another face.

You are allowed to be all things, then some things, and not other things, and no things — all at once. 

How to Transform Consciousness

HOW THE GODDESS BROKE THROUGH ME

I had a psychedelic journey on April 1 that knocked me inward for a couple of months.

Every vision — whether it's a dream or a subtle image that bubbles to the surface — deserves to be honored with patience, attention and action. In my case, a Warrior Goddess broke through my wooden, embroidered heart.

In the journey, I was being chased for my heart. They said it was beautiful and impressive and they wanted to mount it in a museum.

I held my wooden heart in my hands and I ran and I hid. "It's not ready yet," I told them. "I'm still working on it."

Every embroidered groove and engraving was a love or a lesson or a heartbreak — and this is what made it a work of art.

The hide-and-seek game continued until I found myself cornered, but before it could be stolen, my heart cracked open and gave birth to a beautiful, Warrior Goddess with wings.

A new energy had entered my body and I knew immediately I had to make room for her, and that's what I've been doing.

HOW TO MAKE ROOM FOR A NEW ENERGY

You must quiet all the outdated, uninformed voices that live in your head and who are always eager to speak up first. You breathe into your spine. You take a step back from your body — pretend you are sleep walking. There is a new driver behind the wheel. Relinquish control.

Trust the energy — it is sourced from your heart. Your heart feels on fire — but it is not wild, it is a controlled fire — and this is the new energy that will give birth to your true voice.

Since the journey, the Goddess has been making cameos in my dreams. In dreams, she gifts me wings. She brings me cats and jewelry, and she baptizes me in fire.

She wakes me up mid-night with sticky thoughts. She tells me that I am not trusting enough. She tells me to let go. She tells me to believe. To be fearless.

But these are only words and dream images and a human needs more than words and images to transform.

HOW TO TRANSFORM CONSCIOUSNESS

On Tuesday, April 26, I woke up with a sticky thought from the Goddess. She said:

It's not just the symbols or the message — it's the flow of consciousness that breaks through you at night. It is multiple flows and it is the energy from these flows that you must feel.

During the day, when we are awake, we repress so much. At night, when our defenses are down, our true nature tries to break through us. It cracks us open with images and words and these images and words are, in actuality, flows of energy — multidimensional and encoded with so much potential for transformation.

I carry the energy from dreams with me throughout the day. I walk the world with one eye outward and one eye inward and I pay attention to synchronicities and symbols and I gravitate to whatever resonates with the energy I am carrying — and I let that be my guide posts.

This is how you transform consciousness. This is how you learn the language of your subconscious. This is how you become a co-creator with Life.

Life doesn't want to happen at you or throw itself at you. Life wants to break through you from the inside out.

Make yourself holy and loud again

I’ve been living in my heart chakra for the past month. I grew a new chamber in my heart. I didn’t know I could do that without becoming a mother — which I consciously chose to not be this lifetime.

It’s painful to have more space in my heart. It feels empty at times, unfurnished. There is a lonely echo.

I thought I needed someone — a God, a Master, a King — some sort of ruler to move in and reign over this new territory. But I was wrong. The pain I feel is the original sin — separation from the divine.

I think about Adam and Eve after God withdrew from the garden — how we forgot we were made from each other. How we continued living as if we were separate beings, at times enemies.

Misunderstanding, suffering, repressing. None of that belongs in the heart.

The full moon in Virgo is all about purification. Putting your life in order for the purpose of purifying your heart.

In my meditation this morning, I saw myself windexing a two-way mirror. On the other side was also me — but at multiple points of existence. I was a two-year-old hiding in tall grass and I looked scared. I was 8 and whispering to old oak trees, begging them to open up their portals. I was 11 and I was crying in bed and wishing I could die. I was 17 and I was burning all my old diaries so I could become someone new. And these versions of myself continued on like that — some were sad, some were in love, and some were shameful.

I kept windexing the mirror glass — wiping and cleaning this supernatural view I had of myself. I saw myself as energy with imperfections and impurities woven in since birth. I saw what some people would call sins and I made them beautiful and holy again.

A confession: When I was young, I went through a short phase of stealing perfume bottles. Two. I stole two bottles. One from a store and one from my best friend’s older sister (and I gave that one back). I couldn’t afford them myself and the scents were so intoxicating and they made me feel feminine and magical, and the bottles were made of colored glass, like potion bottles, and my senses were enraptured by the feel, the smell, and the sight of these perfumes. I had to possess them. This is godly too.

We desire with our senses, I salivate, I ache to touch, I stare, I can’t keep my eyes off of all the divine, beautiful things I want. I forget that all that beauty is inside of me already.

I hope you can heal yourself the same way. Windex your own two-way mirror. See clearly the incessant flowering of your soul since birth. You came in as a pure and holy force and have been muted along the way. Unmute yourself.

Things that do not belong to me

For the past month, I’ve been dreaming a lot about things that don’t belong to me — things like houses, lovers, jewelry. I covet them. I steal them. I fall in love with them. But in the end I wake up with none of it.

When I was a child, I would sometimes burst into tears upon waking, because the really cool thing I found in a dream did not exist. I still remember how badly I wanted those x-ray glasses, or the treasure chest filled with gold, or that fallen star gleaming in my hand.

I don’t cry about that anymore. As an adult I learned the hard way that not every beautiful thing belongs to me. “Sometimes the grown-up thing to do is ooh & ahh & walk away.”

But there are dream gifts that you can pull into real life. They come in the form of words, or images or in the spatial dimensions of an emotion. 

I pay closest attention to Full Moon dreams, New Moon dreams, dreams while traveling or menstruating, birthday dreams, and even dreams on holidays can carry gifts. 

Last night’s Full Moon dream had edges.

I found myself at an open house. As I walked through, each room was more beautiful and extravagant than the last. Exalted ceilings, ornate wood, gilded mouldings, stained glass. There were murals and mosaics and unearthed marble tile that had been restored. All the colors were rich and lustrous, and my heart ached to be bathed in their light.

I knew I could never own this house. It wasn’t for sale. They were only looking for a subletter, anyway. Someone who would live in the smallest room, without a view, and remain fairly unknown. There would be no lease or binding contract. No proof that I ever belonged there.

At the end of the dream, I stood there in the largest room — a Turkish-style bath — staring at the fairy-tale like murals. So much history that I was not a part of, so much future that I would never know. And I cried. Not like a child. Not because I couldn’t have something beautiful. I cried because I loved it anyway. I cried because it existed, and I appreciated it, and I would never forget it. And it didn’t matter who would live in this house or own it, I was here now, grounded in the moment, surrounded by walls that I loved — walls that I would let keep me forever.

Even after I awoke, I was still within those walls. That is the gift I brought back with me. My heart had a new shape — as if the dream had tugged on its edges and stretched it out further into the world. A new appreciation for all the beautiful things that will never belong to me, but that I get to see and love anyway.