Miss Pelican's Perch

Looking at my World from a Different Place

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Puncturing Through the Strata

“Jung says that dreams are the woofer and tweeter of the total sound system.” Chris-in-the-Morning, KBHR, Cicely, Alaska (Northern Exposure, ep 1.8)

Lately, I’ve been having a lot of vivid dreams.  It’s as if a deep, down layer of my mind that contains my true self is trying to puncture through the strata of my psyche to find a way out– like lava from the earth’s core making its way to the mouth of a volcano.

For example, in the last two weeks I’ve dreamed of driving on the wrong side of the road forcing other cars off the road, getting lost on a maze of wharves and piers, sweeping up leaves of a tree growing in a living room, having a job in a drum store where I am falsely accused of stealing books (in a drum store?), and taking Ayuvedic cooking lessons (pass the turmeric).

Here’s another quote from Chris. (Northern Exposure was one of my favorite shows and I often quote from it ):

“Dreams are postcards from our subconscious, inner self to outer self, right brain trying to cross that moat to the left. Too often they come back unread: ‘return to sender, addressee unknown.’ That’s a shame because it’s a whole other world out there–or in here depending on your point of view.” (Northern Exposure, ep 3.7)

I’ve been trying not to send back those postcards. I’ve been writing them down in a journal and trying to understand what they mean. I think I have a lot of these figured out. A few are a mystery. And some may have more than one interpretation.

For example, the other night I dreamed that I was pulling up the blinds on my dining room window. Light flooded the room. Then all of a sudden, the blinds got away from me and violently snapped up (like a shade) crashing so hard into the top of the window frame that it made a huge noise and shook the whole building like an earthquake. Then I heard my upstairs neighbors walking around, and I feared that I had disturbed them. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs outside. A woman suddenly appeared at my window. I did not recognize her as a neighbor. I immediately said “I am so sorry if I disturbed you.” She smiled and replied, “No problem. I just came to see if you are okay.”  Then I woke up.

My interpretation is that new insights I am learning about myself and my life are flooding in like the light from the window, and the woman was telling me that this is good. I shared this dream with someone who offered a different interpretation. He suggested that I was opening a window on my life to the world,  showing the world my real self, and feeling free to express myself in ways I have not before.  The woman was there to tell me that this is also a good thing.

Yes, both interpretations work for me.

So, my point in telling you all this is to suggest that you do not ignore your dreams. Keep a pad of paper and pen next to your bed and write down your dreams as soon as you can. (You WILL forget them if you don’t write them down right away). Then spend a little time seeing what the mean for you.

Whether the messages deep down at our cores are a part of us or if they are a way for God to speak wisdom to us, I’m not certain (both maybe), but I do know they are worth heeding.

ljg 2017



Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

the moon by me -- ljgHere is my response to this prompt at the WordPress Daily Post: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)


Dreams should not be taken literally — at least that is what I used to tell myself.

At one time I was big into symbolism. I used to think that images in dreams were the detritus of my mind, the bits and pieces of real-life issues that I had left unattended during my waking hours which would then float up to nag me during my sleep. These realities of my day would take on fantastical or striking forms in my dreams in order to get my attention. ALL dreams were like that. Yeah, that’s what I used to tell myself.

But then that changed.

A number of years ago I had a dream. Actually, it was an honest-to-gosh nightmare. It started out pleasant enough. I found myself in a backyard garden in Manhattan Beach. How I knew it was MB, I don’t know. I just knew. I was surrounded by people I did not know. They were obviously wealthy people dressed in fine party clothing — suits and cocktail dresses. Someone was grilling steaks and fish on a barbeque. Tables were laid with fancy appetizers and other dainties. Beer and wine freely flowed. The sun was shining and a salty breeze came off the ocean. I don’t recall any music but then sound has never been prominent in my dreams, but everyone was smiling, laughing, and having a good time.

Then I looked up and saw the sky turn color. From a bright cerulean it morphed into a puss-yellow. The party-goers looked up too. Some set down their glasses and plates, and they all stopped chatting and laughing. They, like me, were frozen in place. With our eyes fixed on the western sky, we saw them coming — at first dark specks, then growing into the silhouettes of planes. I felt my stomach tighten and my heart start to pound. I knew — we all knew — they were coming for us. If you have ever seen any movies about Pearl Harbor, you know the scene: the planes swooping in on defenseless people. You knew what was coming.

Just as the planes were nearly to us, everyone began to scream, including me. That’s when I woke up. It was the classic bolt-upright-in-bed type of nightmare response. I don’t know if I really screamed, but I was sweating and trembling in fear. I sat there for a moment and as I realized that I was at home, safe in my bedroom, and that it was only a dream, I calmed down. Then I began to analyze it.

Yes, I had been busy at work. Stress, that was probably it. Yes, I was worried about some family issues too. Yeah, that’s had to be it. Worry working itself out in the dream. Oh, maybe it was my health. That could be it too: my body telling me to take care of myself. Maybe I should make a doctor’s appointment. That’s it, that’s what I’ll do.

With it all figured out, I felt relieved and ready to go back to sleep. Just as I settled back down, I turned to look at the digital display on my nightstand:

2:15 a.m., September 11, 2001.




ljgloyd (c) 2015