Crocodiles I Do Not Fear | morningangel's Blog

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.