morningangel's Blog

Picking up Tarot has been like going to kindergarten after getting a Ph.D.  I'm not complaining!  I love it.  Learning and reading the Elder Runes required so much rigorous study, introspection and prayer, but now I have pictures, numbers and diagrams!  Yay!

I love, too, the personal lightning bolts generated from the correspondence between Rune and Tarot.  Ohhhhh, my Heathen friends would shy away from anything as "southern" as Tarot, but my practice has always been tainted by Jung anyway, and I am susceptible to finding archetypes in the very clouds, if it comes to that.  I respect the Runes and always will, but I don't think Odin is offended if I throw bones or draw cards, as well. 

In my soul, I understand the difference, that the Runes are Manifest, bought with sacrifice of Self to Self, Archetypes plucked from the World Tree itself, and the Tarot are like a set of meditation keys, Cliff Notes to Jung or whatever other spiritual/psychic system one chooses to assign.  The Tarot  are beautiful, thought-provoking, inspiring, and they do the job intended, unleash intuition and allow divination.  They are also fun.

I have been working with three different sets.  Two I like, and the third I hate.  The one I don't like is the Gendron Tarot.  The art is awful and so are the symbols.  I also downloaded an app to my ipad called the Wildwood Tarot.  This one is terrific, and the app is powerful.  I am able to share my reading to facebook, where my uncle often shares any correspondences with the Mayan Calendar.   Although he's in Ohio and I'm in Kansas, we raise energy between us before dawn high enough to raise the dead!  The third is another beautiful deck, my hands-on set, called the Gaian Tarot.  It is an earth-based Tarot, as the name implies, also multi-ethnic, gender-inclusive and filled with colorful images of landscapes, plants, animals, sacred objects and people of various body shapes and ages.

This Tarot's beauty belies its power, and I'm quite satisfied with it.

My mood: a bit sorcerous

I took a short break from my painting, which now that I look back, roughly coincided with getting my puppy.  In the last couple days, I suddenly had an urge to pick up my brushes again.  Well, not just out of the blue...   I saw myself painting in a dream, and I think that is how it got started.  In the dream, I had many little, watercolor landscapes in front of me.  I was working on a landscape of blues and purples, soothing like evening.  My brush was moving fluidly across the paper, the paint sweeping across prettily in the style I use, fresh, quick and spontaneous...no stopping to think...flowing--that's how I paint--and why I prefer watercolor.  You can't go back to fix watercolor!!  What you splash down is what you get!  I love it!

I did not read dreams for anyone yesterday, and it was a good break.

I read one this morning, but it was not difficult.  The dreamer is intelligent, and I only pointed out a few correspondences which he can use to understand the dream for himself.  That is the reward of working with him previously!

My patience is at an end at two dream forums, and I won't read dreams there on the public board anymore.  Here and there, I will still message dreamers when it seems it will be productive.

Regarding my own dreams, I have discovered some fascinating echoes which I am pursuing.  I hope to apply my painting to them soon.

Winter, so quiet, so full of introspection and so different from spring, that noisy, chaotic season!  For me, winter is the time of poetry.

Finally, a bit of chill in the air today.  It is around 45 degrees.  The hens are feeling chipper in this crisp weather.  Last night, they had a little time to free-range, and I fed them a high fat/ high protein breakfast this morning. Their feathered capes are golden and glorious.  I DO love a golden-hued chicken.

Last night my dreams were quite entertaining, although I woke too many times.  For example, there was this curious sequence:

The Visitor Dream (sleeping portions in italics):

I hear a rap, a double knock.

I woke up, wondering if it was real, waited a moment in anticipation then fell back asleep.

I hear my little dog bark once.

I woke up again; again wondering if it was real, waited a longer moment in anticipation then fell back asleep.

I hear my husband's voice calling, "Hello?"

I woke up a third time, looked over and my husband was lying on his back sound asleep.

Then a little later in the night, I had another dream of which I remember only the last two lines that went like this:

The Dream:

CPT KIRK: "It doesn't have to BE this way."

SPOCK: "You have to live within what is."

 

1.  The only problem with buzzing off my hair is that the back of my neck gets cold!  It's cold right now.

2.  Ah, so I gave what I think is the last official comment I am going to make on an important dream.  Important to the dreamer, of course, not so for me.  She will probably respond, but I have explained all I am going to explain.  The rest is up to her.

3.  I bought a lighted pen for recording my dreams and used it last night.  It worked very well, although the light may be a little bright.  I can fix that with a bit of masking tape as a shield over the plastic shell.

4.  I salvaged three dreams from memory last night, two quite interesting, and the third quite brief.  I remember drifting into REM then suddenly coming back up from it.  Whether an external stimulus caused me to wake or it was an inner call to record the dream, I do not know.

The Third Dream:  I am a store owner, and my name is Meeta.  A salesgirl uses my name to call me over and says, "We need to talk."

5.  I looked back over some months old dreams of mine and discovered that I have finally reached a point of objectivity that may allow me to interpret.  It is something I am curious about and want to begin. 

6.I also want to keep up reading one or two public dreams, although my enthusiasm for that severely wanes.  I am not interested in the public scrutiny of my interpretations nor am I interested in explaining over and over and over again to dreamers that the interpretation may not always lead to one-to-one conscious associations.  There is a reason the UNconscious is called the UNconscious.

7.  I have a few more dry beans to shell, but not many.  I look forward to the quiet time spent shelling, and I will be sad when the chore is done.  There will be no more until next year when the beans I plant ripen again, and I am called to the labor of that which I love the most, the soil, water, sun and plants.

My mood: a bit pensive

I had to go out on errands, but I spent the better, earlier part of the morning working on a dream interpretation with my female email correspondent.  She is fixated on a failed relationship with a guy, and this individual's face has been persistently showing up in her dreams.  The figure shows classic Jungian behavior and traits of the animus, but this interpretation is hard for the dreamer to consciously embrace.  Accordingly, her latest dream shows her ego being very cold toward the dream animus, refusing to accept his affection.  She even pictures a cube of ice!

I have complete confidence in what I am interpreting for her.  In fact, her images are so textbook that I have not had to do much "reading" of her dreams at all.  Our communication is more about gently explaining the dreams in a way she can understand and accept.  I am encouraged, however, in the increased sophistication and depth of her latest dream in comparison to the first few, which were not much different than those of a schoolgirl with a facebook crush on a boy.   This change demonstrates the power dreamwork can have on our psyche and the integration that can develop.

Whereas, this young woman is just now meeting the aspects of her psyche, mine are old friends with whom I have varying degrees of relationship.  I sometimes morph mid-dream from one aspect to the other, an indication that  "we" are integrated.  In a recent dream, I began in the role of a professional, shared a simultaneous vision with my student, then subsequently acted out the remainder of the dream as the student.  In the very last scene of that dream, I rested in the embrace of an aging superman, my animus, and was content.   Like me, he has come a long way in the last few months, growing up at a tremendous pace as I recognized and accepted him.  This is the power of dreams.

Warm weather continues.  It was 60 degrees while I was having my first cup of coffee.  I need to find lights to hang for Yule.  If I don't hurry, the season will have passed already.  We have not brought out our ornaments either.

I am more interested in my garden growing in the cold/greenhouse.  At least, it was supposed to be a coldhouse, but we could not have known we would have warm temperatures into December.  This trend is forecast all the way to Friday.  Who knows after that.

We ate beautiful salads with lettuce greens and herbs and tomatoes last night.  Alas, the tomatoes are almost all gone.  Once they are, we won't have fresh tomatoes until next June--at the very earliest.  Woe is me!

Last night, I read through the first of dozens of seed catalogs that will arrive between now and spring.  I am planning for more food and fewer flowers than ever.  I especially want to raise more grain for my chickens.  The drought has raised feed prices to almost twice what they once were, so I need to grow my own to keep down the expense of my home-raised eggs.  I also have to raise new chicks this spring, because my hens will be 4 years old.  It is a lot of work to raise a new flock, but SO MUCH FUN to choose the breed.  Although I adore my Buff Orpingtons, I might have to get a bird not so adapted to cold temperatures. 

Since I started making my own farm decisions over twenty years ago, it is amazing how many changes I have had to make due to changing climate.  I don't grow the same things my parents did or raise the same strains of animals.  It's SO WEIRD.

I was away from the computer and home yesterday, which I would usually take as an opportunity for balance, but the time was spent buying a vehicle, so I can hardly say it was very "balancing."  At least, the deed is done!

I have assumed communication with a young woman who is following her dreams.  I have offered to translate for a while with the hope that she will begin to do more and more herself.  Already, she has tuned into me through ESP and dreamed the same images I dreamed on the same night.   Or was it the other way around?  I translated the dream with her as the receiver, but what it means, I don't yet know.  I look forward to the continued contact.

On the other hand, I gave up on a young man for whom I was translating an elaborate dream.  On every count, he insisted on applying his "logic," and we were getting nowhere.  I nudged him several times back toward more creative readings, but his Yang is strong.  He couldn't let go of intellect.  Our correspondence fizzled.

I have my NFL to watch today, but it will not be the same as always.  A terrible tragedy took place within the team that I follow faithfully.  A player shot and killed his girlfriend (the mother of their 3 month old daughter) and then killed himself.  This happened yesterday, but the team is still going to play.  The coach is one of those who saw the young man shoot himself, so I can't imagine how they will go on.  How any of them can go on....?!

My Dream:  I was in a European village.  Not a city this time with wide, clean streets, but one of those with narrow lanes--they're everywhere.  It was near the sea, too, although I never saw it in the dream.  I was on the street with a man who wanted to take French lessons in town.  I suppose he did. 

I went on a tour with my sister to see a stone tower.  It was dusty, and there was a dovecote in a room up very high.  There was straw all over the floor, tossed out of the cote by the activity of the doves.  The man (who had wanted to learn French) came in while we were looking at the doves, and he broke all their eggs, one by one and very deliberately.

My sister and I continued on the tour down a complicated chute with turnstiles and other mechanisms through which we had to pass to go to the lower floor.  There, we admired a great number of eggs piled up on a structure made of two thick, wooden beams perpendicular to each other, like a massive table in the shape of a cross.  Again, the man who had wanted to learn French arrived, and I screamed in warning.  The tour guide could not understand why I was so dismayed by the presence of the man, so I hurriedly explained that I feared he would break all the eggs.

My mood: a bit chill

Crocodile River, Nov. 8 DREAM

I was returning to a door I had entered before in which I passed through a series of mandalas that acted like a membrane to let me pass.  There was a certain way of going forward in which you could not think, but must move forward with intuition and confidence, and if you lost your "touch," you were barred from passing.  I had been through before to the other side without any difficulty, but this time I was going through with my husband.  I passed through the first door without any trouble and saw the mandala I remembered.  Everything was the same, and I "felt" the same, as if I knew how to proceed through the center of the pattern, but though I tried, I could not go any further.  It was only after many efforts that I finally passed and this time was different, too.  Instead of passing thru a succession of kaleidoscopic mandalas, I was in a small, stone room of many doors.  It was open to the sky and vines grew on the walls.  I had to choose the correct door in order to go on.  In front of the first door, a deep darkness collected, so I knew it was the wrong door.  In front of the next door, a shapeless humanoid appeared on the step and cowered and trembled as though terrified, so I knew it was also the wrong door.  The third door was stone like the others, but ornately carved in Roman style with an asymmetrical stone scarf/banner flowing down one side of the door.  I knew this was the right one, and I entered.  My husband, by this time, was long gone and, besides, rather inconsequential throughout the dream, although I saw him now and then.

On the other side of the door was a high, broad bridge, but made of something sinewy and pocked with holes like bubble gum stretched too tight or muscle that was wormholes in it.  Above the bridge, a  giant-size sorcerer in dark, flowing robes was levitating.  He had people in his hands that he was going to let fall into the river below where there were crocodiles.  I rushed forward and tugged on the fluttering tatters of robes that were hanging down, trying to drag the sorcerer out of the air and save the people.  I don't know if I saved them or not.

The bridge began to disappear below my feet, and I rushed to make it to the other side so I wouldn't fall in the water with the crocodiles.  I jumped around on the remaining material, but I fell to the water on a flimsy raft that did not float well.  Crocodiles were all around me, menacing.  I tried to keep away from them and pushed their taloned claws away, but the further I was swept downstream, the more crocodiles appeared and the larger they were.  Eventually, I floated past a structure of stone steps leading down into the water, and I made it out of the river.  An Indian wedding was taking place, and I had come during the moments of meditation when the participants were imagining the well-being of bride and groom and all their happy years together.  I walked past without disturbing the ceremony/meditation.

Crocodile River, Nov. 11 DREAM

The crocodile river in the Nov. 11 dream was a brief scene in which I spoke confidently of facing the crocodiles at that time.

Crocodile River, Nov. 29 DREAM

Image of an overgrown riverbank in a temperate zone woods.  Projecting out into the river is a pier.  I proceed down the river, avoiding crocodiles.  In the middle of the river is a dolmen, two standing stones with a cap stone that spans them.  I hang from the cap stone on a swing.  Perched on top are two, black crows.  They have a nest.  One of them walks back and forth, eyeing me nervously as I eye him back, worried he might peck me.  I draw with a charcoal stick on the cap stone, making long, rough vertical lines, shading to produce a dimensional effect, outlining the etched grooves that are already carved into the stone.

I swing down to reach a platform with stairs.  Once there, I see a boat on the river that is too tall and narrow, making it unstable in the water.  My son (an adult)  is standing on another pier, and I know that he thinks he needs to build a new boat for the river travelers.

I see a plastic lawn chair that has fallen into the water and must be retrieved, but the river is still dangerous with crocodiles.  Gingerly, I hop along the bank and other footings until I reach the chair that is mostly submerged by the water's edge.

Note:  My water dreams follow a general pattern.  When it is a river, I do not willingly enter it, nor swim easily.  When it is a lake, I swim with great ease and pleasure (like flying) and with no difficulty in breathing underwater.  It is my element and my bliss.

 

I am too young for my back to be so sore.  Just shoot me now.

Anyway, we have perfect weather, unseasonably warm winter, calm, clear, sunny skies with a few, friendly clouds.  Paradise--as long as you don't care about never having rain.  :(

Crocodile River:  I have dreamed of it three times now; the last one was last night.  I also dreamed of it on the 8th and the 11th of November.  I am not terrified, only cautious of the crocodiles.  Neither do they strike me as any more significant than other elements of my dreams, some of which are relatively charged with energy, like the fine glass I repeatedly dream and the deer.

I am not doing enough to understand...

What an exhausting three or four days it has been.  In that time, I have interpreted so many dreams for others, but also twelve dreams containing the image of two moons.  What a journey.

I had no particular criteria when choosing the dreams, only that they clearly described the two moons as a distinct element.  I disregarded dreams of six moons and other multiples, but I did include a dream with three moons in which two moons orbited a third.  Once I went deeper into the dreams, I found I had a wide variety in terms of the levels of mind involved.  For example, some were quite mundane, but one was highly spiritual and probably prophetic.

I have produced so much text from this project that I practically have a mini-book.  Ha!  I wonder if there is a copyright on dreams!

So...briefly what I found in summary of what two moons represents in a dream is this...

Five the the 12 dreams primarily provided an image that created a sense of strangeness, unearthliness, unfamiliarity for the dreamer.  Two of these five esp. involved sexuality.  Two esp. were used as a sign of impending, personal doom, and one was just strangeness.

In two of the dreams, the two moons appeared to represent a mother and child.

In one dream, the phases of the moon provided an image of fulfillment, fruition.

In four of the dreams, the two moons indicated what I will call "alternatives."  In one dream, the two moons represented two, different traits.  One dream showed two choices.  In another, they represented present and future.  In the last dream I read, one of the two moons was the carrier of masculine qualities, and its partner carried the feminine.

I have set a small menu for our Thanksgiving meal.  We will have quail that my husband brought home from his hunt.  After twenty years of cooking quail for him, I have perfected the method, and they are absolutely delicious.  I always have mashed potatoes and gravy made from the quail cracklin's left in the pan.  Today, I am also baking a pecan pie and a pumpkin pie.  Then we will also have fresh salad picked from the greenhouse and homegrown tomatoes which I have nursed along to survive until this late date.  After this, there will only be a handful of tomatoes.  So sad, because they add such brightness to our meals.

I have read two dreams now for a man practicing kundalini yoga.  Both dreams carried a message of suppressed sexuality, and both dreams suggested negative consequences.  After the first dream, I commented  about this (although not in a probing way), and his reaction seemed to be one of pride in his ability to contain his urges through yoga.  However, in this second dream, the images of negativity are just as pronounced as in the first, and I think maybe he is not taking his dreams seriously enough.  Not being a psychologist, I hesitate to analyze him, but I could not keep from making another mild comment about, perhaps, channeling this intense energy outwardly in a safe manner--apart from his yoga.  I wonder what he will have to say to that...

I saw my Mom in a dream last night.  It was nice.  The dream was fuzzy, but she entered through a door, and she was vivid.  I hugged her.  I knew she shouldn't be alive, and this information shifted me into lucidity (a condition I actually try to avoid in my dreams, preferring to receive messages unadulterated by ego.).  Once I became lucid, Mom returned back through the door (as if her presence was no longer relevant in this state), and I turned to try to take advantage of my lucidity, but the environment with which I had to work was sparse and, before I could alter it, I arose from dream.

I had other dreams, of course, and I am trying to get them written down, but I also have dreams to interpret for others and cooking will take quite a bit of time.  Just not enough time for everything. 

I have not forgotten that I want to keep at reading my own dreams, but that task always seems to fall last and usually not get done.

Well, three days I was without steady internet.  The router finally completely died, and we had to get a new one.  Hopefully, it will last a few years.

I am very busy cleaning the house for designers and contractors while I plan a kitchen remodeling.  The kitchen is long past being useful.  The oven broke and was removed almost a year ago, and now my stovetop only has one burner working out of the original four.  I bought a small countertop oven and have been using that to compensate, but it's way past time for redoing the whole room, which was probably built in the late 70s or early 80s judging by the outdated decor. 

I can't wait to have a functional oven of the proper size again!  I cannot even host Yule at my house because I can't cook a turkey or large-sized ham.  :((((  Instead, I am attending Yule festivities with my former Heathen Hearth.  They have gone Germanic since I left them, but the principles and god/desses are the same!

I have been dreaming as usual, lots of dreams of memorable images, but no time to record them properly.  Today, because of my internet failure,  I have a small backlog of dreams for other people to read, but I also have boxes that I need to carry out to storage.  Plenty to do.

I learned yesterday that my grandbaby twins are going to be girls.   I saw 12 sonogram pics of them, and you can even see their little faces quite clearly.  The parents have picked out two perfect names for them.  I am so lucky to have my wonderful son and his wonderful lady.  I only wish I lived closer, so I didn't have to fly to see them.

Mom's funeral is today, but I have recorded my dreams this morning while having coffee.  I probably won't have much time this afternoon to interpret, but maybe this evening.  I have already said my good-byes to her, so this is only a formality for the family.  To my way of thinking, the body after death and funerals and burials are completely irrelevant, and I am not particularly pleased to be going through these empty motions.

I would rather progress through the grieving process on my own, someday coming to that point where I can think of her with happy memories rather than crying.

Anyway, here is last night's dream:

I am swimming in a lake/ocean.  I find a stone floating below the surface of the water.  Its image is very distinct, sharp against the fuzzy background of the dream.  It is a chalky color, porous, irregular in shape and small enough to fit in my hand.  I feel it is an important artifact.

After finding the stone, I am harassed by a large (9 ft?), hideous man.  (A giant, monster?)  He keeps following me, groping me lewdly.  I strike out at him with the stone, scraping it down his arms, but it has no effect, and I feel it should.

There are groups of swimmers in the water, but no one pays any attention to my dilemma.  I try to escape through the small crowds, but he keeps following.  I leave the water in hope that he is unable to come out onto land, but he can.  He mocks me for running up onto land where a war between two, native tribes is taking place. 

I am worried that he is right, but when the fighting begins, I rise up to fly above it all.  I fly over the giant and back out over the water.  I fly to an island, and my spirit indwells there, by which I make it safe for children and animals.

I watered the lettuce in the cold frame, and it blew high, dry winds all day, but then we had rain overnight.  Ah, well, no harm done.  Fresh greens and vegetables are the greatest challenge of self-sufficiency through the winter.  If I want to avoid grocery store greens sprayed with chemicals and harvested with the sweat of immigrant children who should be in school, then I have to grow my own, and that's not easy when it is freezing outside.  Of course, I could pay the price of organics, but that only assures me that I am not getting chemicals, nothing about other agricultural practices.

I do have a clean source of some food that I can't produce myself, primarily meat and dairy, but for the plant stuff, I do it here on my land--joyfully.

Football today to balance out the hours and take me away from my compulsions.

My mood: pretty groovy

Freezing nights protected in the greenhouse and warm days with abundant sun have my crops growing like a jungle.  We have been enjoying the fresh salads, and we ate all the first harvest of turnips already. 

I look forward to the results of my root crop experiment with rutabagas, carrots, potatoes, turnips and celeriac.  Did I provide a deep enough bed?  Will it be too cold or too hot?  Will there be enough sun?  If this works, I will be able to grow year round rather than try to harvest in the fall and store through the winter, which I simply don't have the correct space to do.  It is one more step toward self-sufficiency--and all capable of being maintained without electricity.

I tried a new method of recording my dreams last night, using an app on my iPad as a recorder.  I found that speaking out loud brought me too much out of sleep at 4 a.m.   It was also inconvenient to transcribe this morning.  I will go back to pen and paper tonight.

I remembered a wealth of dream material, half of it absolutely incomprehensible, but patiently recorded, nonetheless.  I have weeks of dreams, two or more a night, that need serious interpretation, but the enormity of such a project is daunting.  Instead, I continue to read for others and "spread the word," so to speak.  I know I should be reading and acting on my own....

I only recorded one dream this morning, but it seems to be one of importance.  Actually, they all seem to have import these days, full of messages and signs of one kind or another.  I admit to being caught up in dreams, mine and those of others.

From her dream, I found a budding psychic this morning, and so I translated.  There is always that touch of fear in exposing myself as I press the "post" button, but so far I have had the courage.  The consequences of losing one more chance at reaching someone, I fear, are worse than the chance of ridicule.

And why don't I simply post a private message?  Twofold.  One, I worry that I come across as "creepy," and the message is less well received.  Two, what if my public dream reading provides the security another psychic needs to do his/her work?  Alright, I can handle a little anonymous, internet scorn for that.  It's worth it.  In fact, maybe that's what I am for...

My own dream was not a dream so much as a single image that returned to me each time as I rose from dream into those hypnagogic edges. This sign returned as if to say it needed itself recorded before I could move on and dream normally again and so I got out of bed and honored it.

I "dreamed" of an ornate, perforated golden mask, the type with a handle that you hold to your face to look through.  Instead of looking through eyeholes, you could see through the floral/vining pattern of perforations.  The mask had the quality that when one looked through it, their vision was changed.  They saw things differently, in another light, beyond the range of normal.... 

There, it is recorded twice.  Let it be.  Now, I go to seek my balance, as I say.  I am reading a book, and there is MNF in a short while.  Darling husband is home, and we are drinking Sangria together.  Lovely, lovely...

There was a long dream to read in my FB messages this morning.  I was glad to see it, but not so glad to read it, because I recognized some weaknesses that the dreamer might not like to hear.  I ran into that recently when I used the word 'selfish' in an interpretation.  Remind me not to do that again. 

I sent a reply back to the dreamer warning him and asked if he still wanted his dream read.  While I wait for a reply, I interpreted the dream and have the text ready.  It wasn't so bad once I really started digging, so I hope he will ask for it.

I have homemade eggplant soup for my lunch and dinner, and it is bread-baking day, both good things.  I will also watch some NFL football, which is wonderful for taking my mind off dreams.  Of course, I will visit the greenhouse and feed the chickens and collect eggs.

Sunshine, fresh air, my animals, some fun and food---a few dreams, but balancing the work where I can...

Marie-Louis von Franz has influenced me to think more negatively about the "self-reading" of dreams.  I discussed this problem in my post at my Fifth Sun Dreams blog.  There, I listed as one reason to have a second person read the dream is the existence of hidden subconscious elements that the dreamer can't read him/herself.  MLvF mentioned these in the documentary I am watching, but she stressed even more the regular dreamer's lack of skill, which is grossly apparent with only a quick search of the dream forums.   In the culture, everyone has heard of Jung, but no one knows what he did or how he did it.  He remains a mystery, and the world continues to stagger under the weight of ignorance.

Will the Fifth Age change all that?  Of course, we hope it will, but no one knows how that change will proceed.  Will it be through the workers in psychic material?

In his lifetime, Edgar Cayce was sometimes encouraged to give up his individual readings and to use his talent for developing the method/process on a large scale in a university or hospital.  Two problems hindered him in that direction.  First, he had made a covenant with God to help people, especially children, and he wasn't sure how shifting his focus to developing 'method' would accomplish that.  The second problem was that each time he tried something like that, he was either exploited or he developed terrible headaches from reading or he lost the ability altogether.  So he always ended up reading for individuals, one person at a time.  Some of these people ignored the reading when it disagreed with them.  Others did not possess the will to carry through on his advice.  The number who listened and benefited was probably a small fraction, and that must have been discouraging to Cayce.  Of course, he also had to endure the scorn and jokes of most mainstream academia and the medical world. 

What is crucial to know about Cayce's will to carry on is that he had a window on the future and so he must have known something about how the Fifth Age would unfold.  Knowing that, it's entirely possible that changes will occur on the same model he used, one individual reading at a time.  That gives me inspiration.

I recorded two dreams last night.  One had my mother with an iphone, and I was afraid that the soft ping of notifications on my ipad might wake her when I put her to bed.  This is the second time I dreamed her with access to a phone with a  connection to mine.  Not only access to my phone, but with wider access to external communication.  I think she sees and hears what is going on with me and a lot more, although she has lost all her memories.  It is a pretty sophisticated access, too, if she's using an iphone now. 

The other dream showed me a good relationship with my Animus, which is unusual for me.  I dream of him quite often, but he is usually neutral toward me even when I try to show him affection.  It happens this way so often that it  makes me laugh at both of us when I wake up.  Once in a great while, we will have a 'moment,' but usually it is only indifference from him.  Anyway, last night, it was a young man on a rickety ladder who, through a great feat of balance and strength, helped me up.  The entire dream was a rather open book and was an obvious encouragement to continue dream reading.  I assume I "incubated" the problem, and I got this dream as a result.

I have only begun my day, but I see there are dreams in a couple of my inboxes.  I read too much yesterday and made myself tired and discouraged, so I must remember to balance today.  There are college football games on, so I will watch some of those, probably at the same time I watch bits of the documentary or read.  Another reason I was so tired yesterday was that I skipped my usual meditation.  I really felt the difference emotionally.  That is my time to not think, and when I come out of it, I have usually released any negative thoughts or energy that have accumulated.  Skipping meditation was like not taking my spiritual shower.

Balance...

It's late, and I am tired, which I know is half the reason for my frustration right now.  But it makes me crazy when people say "it's just a dream."  Then I gave a dream reading for someone who thought I had not seen all his dream when the problem was that he had not read all my interpretation (probably because his reading comprehension is on par with a pre-schooler).  His reply indicated that he might have picked out a few words in the last sentence and guessed at the rest.  I feel like I am wasting my time.  Then there are the people who have no idea what they are doing who give crazy dream readings  and make authentic dream readers look bad.  These terrible dream readers are probably the reason for the "it's just a dream," attitude in the first place.

It's not just a dream! 

It's a message with the guide to life, body, mind and spirit.  It's a WINDOW to everything!

Going to bed now.  I will feel better in the morning after I have DREAMED.