dream notes

i don't dream very often. when i do dream, it's usually because there are problems i'm avoiding or escaping from during daylight hours. it's my sleeping mind trying to work out the problems of my consicous mind, so it helps to pay attention to what's going on in my dreams. recently, i've had two bizarre dreams which have woken me up and left me unsettled.

the first was on boxing day. i found the bag i'd lost (in 'reality') with a pair of someone else's dirty knickers in it. not particularly impressed. then the dream jumped to being in a large, ramshackle house which reminded me of himmat. it was a house, but also a curry house. myself and sian were eating there in a fairly cold, empty and bare room. we were aware that some kind of racial unrest was building outside the house and there was an unsettling atmosphere. when i went to the toilets, the toilet paper was that hard, tracing paper stuff that you get in primary school. there was an asian man sat on the next table with a laptop and phone. communication seemed highly relevant and slightly suspicious. he was an intimidating character. when we left the house we heard the sounds of civil unrest! it seemed like a riot was starting, and so we ducked into the house next door.

after this i couldn't get back to sleep at all. eventually i stood up and did some yoga in the dark to calm myself before nodding off again. key themes seemed to be (mis)communication, difference and conflict arising from this. methinks the racism in this dream suggests that i may have been judgemental or discriminatory against somebody - falsely judging somebody because of the way they appear. i am practising non-judgement in my every thought so this is very relevant. it also represents my struggle to communicate thoughts and feelings, my growing unease with technology and instant, electronic modes of communication. there was also an apocolyptic atmosphere in the dream.

the second dream was last night. i don't remember as much detail about this one, since i didn't write it down when i awoke. all i remember is i was at a huge dining table in a restaurant about to eat a big meal. i was with loads of good friends though i can't remember which ones. someone was there who i thought was ben but looked very different in terms of clothes, hair and superficial appearance. this person was lying across the laps of several people on the opposite side of the table, as though there weren't enough chairs (despite the fact that there actually were). then ben arrived in more natural state - but i noticed he was wearing socks and jesus sandals! this is something i can imagine ... At the end of the dream my memory is completely disjointed, but the next thing i knew, a cat jumped onto my shoulder and urinated on me! what the...?!

i think this dream was actually several dreams as i kept waking up and going back to sleep, perhaps this is why it's so disjointed. i'm sure much more happened than i can remember. key themes seemed to be friends, perception of others, relationships. i think the shifting perception of that person and the cat are the main key here. the cat symbolises femininity, sexuality, power and mystery. it represents my own wish to analyse someone who i find difficult to interpret - and the cat urinating on me tells me that i need to forego my wish to control, analyse and understand others! concentrate on my own feet.

this all ties in if you look at snippets of this email i sent recently ...

nice to hear your voice yesterday. struggled not hearing from you over the weekend but time and space to centre myself was much needed and very welcome in end. cheers! hence i shall be laying off the text messages for a bit... tip toes treading carefully and all that. i'm even now finding it difficult to talk on the phone, one day i'll get rid of it.

a few words which the universe drew my attention to at precise moment you contacted me earlier this week;

"the two worst strategic mistakes are acting prematurely or letting an opportunity slip; to avoid this, the warrior treats each situation as if it were unique and never resorts to formulae, recipes or other people's opinions" !!!

poised intently with patience and speed in their respective places - and remembering the book you told me about... the law of least effort and law of detachment! these are lessons i didn't want to learn but now engaged with. not much idea what's going on behind those navy blue eyes of yours but you've been a catalyst for me learning good things.

spiritual growth first and foremost, reminding myself to concentrate on my own feet as i walk...

you should read some krishnamurti, he nearly had me running for the hills again. i've borrowed a couple of his books (on relationship and on freedom) but most of his teachings are also online. have a read; http://www.jkrishnamurti.org/ i'd be really interested to hear what you reckon.

also, i wanted to ask you, remember that night when you were drunk and rambling a bit - when you said you pay more attention to your dreams than when you're awake, did you actually mean that and what exactly did you mean? surely it has to be a balance between your spiritual and physical self? you are placed here as a human being for some reason, no?

i'm seriously trying to rid myself of the smoking especially now... though if what krishnamurti talks about is possible i should be able to free myself of thought process by concentrating and being aware of the actual habit of smoking and so never do it again! just like that. magic. the unconditioned mind. also contemplating moving out, i'm getting too lazy and hemmed in here.

be glad to see you soon if that is what shall be.
love to you lovely xxx

and as a footnote ...

i tend to dream when i am distressed or when there's something i am not facing in my waking life. when i am calm and balanced i simply don't dream. perhaps this is not the case for everybody though? sian said she dreams only when content; that when she has problems she needs to sleep uninterrupted in order to face them in waking life. perhaps this is the difference - perhaps i will eventually find the same. when i am more fully self aware i shan't need to dream to uncover the solution to problems. this makes perfect sense.

L.O.V.E

to touch your soul through navy blue pirate's eyes might be love?

however, beware conditional attachment. emotions still rife in a mind tethered to the new wisdom of uncertainty and love, by only the thinnest of silver thread. this could have culminated in a zahir but i nipped the poison ivy in the bud. i've said it before; i want to experience the energy of unconditioned love. where possession doesn't come into it - when you are me, i am you and the world is us. how can this come into it when it concerns floating around with only half a foot in this dimension? i'd be forever envious of the world aside ... and what an interesting mind you have! anyway, we all need to work from the inside outwards.

apparently alcohol exaggerates his neuroticism and confuses his sense of time. such a tenuous link that he can't stop walking, trudging onwards; shaking off the manifestations of negativisms. (sorry, he doesn't believe in isms and neither do i. scrap that, eject it and rewind). which brings me to my next point - i'd prefer not to have a phone, have parted ways with facebook. those are unrealities that are not always healthy. yet he once said he pays more attention to his dreams than his waking life a lot of the time ... i can't grasp this as true. drunk on rum at the time though, so perhaps it wasn't.

back to this boy and he is beautiful. delicate features with a transparency which tell you his heart is good. a good heart and a complex head. i have to decipher and decode a lot of the time, though it's probably me complicating matters equally. we're different coloured lights guiding each other in ways we don't quite understand. we present a challenge with our opposing shades but illuminate the things we need to work on individually. we're teaching and testing each other, this is a good thing so long as it is healthy for both. i keep reminding myself to give, but only where the giving is also increasing my own energy, rather than depleting it.

yesterday we walked in the snow. i was half an hour late due to a last minute dash to make soup and cobble together nourishment for the walk. i also mixed some oils to re-balance his throat chakra - shall be intriguing to see how it works! as we walked through, i was surprised to see hundreds of people out sledging at shibden. it made for a magical, snowy scene and i insisted upon a sledge, although he looked none too keen. good, pure childish fun! i even took off at one point, soaring through crisp air and crashing down on sheet ice. a lovely walk.

when we got to bradford his squat had been locked. a handle-less metal door over the actual door that once opened. he's homeless but seemed to take it in his stride. it's happened and everything in the universe is as it should be. faith, hope and love make me sure that he will find his path... i respect the ability to say 'no' to society. the world needs them desperately, since there are so many that, unquestionning, only ever say 'yes'.

as an afterthought, some inexplicable element of the last few weeks has made me want to read the zahir by paulo coelho again. i have a strange feeling that i'll find things in it that didn't appear to me the first time around. it's beautiful to know that my own soul is guiding me in this way. looking back over the book i am remembering to forget my personal history and connecting much of what he talks about to old krishnamurti. how do i spread the energy of pure love? my soul must be unblemished, despite the years of accumulated knowledge. i must tell my story in minute detail to go past the 'giving up point'. when we manage this, everything changes. there is much to learn in this world, but there is no better place to start 'unlearning' than with love.

on morning (number one)

A faint line of orange glow
Illuminates fields, cars,
The snaking road on slight incline
And the snow above and below.
A monkey tree sections this,
Standing as a huge acorn
With pipe-cleaner branches
Wavering, hesitant, shifting and
Mutating in morning air
Before dry eyes.

Yet the mind is clear,
The silence of a snowy morning being golden
And everything touched with accumulated love
From the night before.
As I sit cross-legged and contemplative
I release my thoughts,
(The thinking woman's pose opposed?)
Breathe them out in unnecessary whirls
Which float towards the window ledge.

Outside, the tips of trees laden
With white dust are barely visible,
High as we are I hope that the thoughts
Will disperse having unhurt;
Ineffectual causes leaving simply
Pure, sweet air behind.
The solitary tweet of a bird
Clears cloudy eyes and I am glad
To witness the first signs of life today.

new year ramblings

we grasped for sisterhood found amongst mountains; sighing to let go, embracing the present and each other. reconnecting through a shared affinity with the natural world, we enjoyed a muddy, wet walk and utilised instinct to guide us home via synchronicity of a circular route. with feet up by the fireside we also fired (down) real ale, hearty soup and steaming, spiced mulled wine.

i taste, touch and squeeze earthly pleasures and love the illusion.

later, physical bodies bumped in the night, two souls touching like a jeff buckley song. our childish subconscious brought simultaneous belief in everything and nothing - continue to write in the past tense and none are free. believe in anything and none are free, believe in everything and nothing maybe? think i may have been taking everything too literally, but no time will tell i'm afraid.

white birds of freedom

subsidence and snow
could take me down to the
half frozen stream,
and no one would hear me scream
in this wilderness -
except that I would take you with me,
since your hand is outstretched
always ready to help.

here in secretive white, i sink
and arrive nowhere fast
but the solitary act is
excellent as mental exercise.
i remind myself, cautious,
to concentrate on my own trainers,
feet firmly on the path before
and one eye on the water.

the black choppy reservoir
peaks and troughs
like the top of the trifle
i half-made yesterday,
and white birds bob unsteadily
or perch on the outermost edge
with heads turned
imperiously away.

red wine

A light red wine with
Raspberry overtures,
But not Rose, for God's sake!
I despise a dry throat
But don't hate
It.

Hate nothing,
Not even those bitter bores
Who cannot find the time or
Space of heart to enjoy
Enough
In this life.

spiritual revolution

Is there?
Out there somewhere?
Here
Now
Presently
Eminent
And rearing it's pretty head
From the morass of deceit?

Come to think of it
Pretty is far from the word.
Is there any word?
Illuminating
Freeing
For seeing the world
As it really is
n't.

a short, festive thought

I saw a little girl on Christmas day
Wearing a Cinderella dress with wellies
Almost tripping
But caught by a Grandparent.

I thought
Are spines made to be broken?
The spines of the books I love
Yet they're simply
Concoctions of words,
Collections of letters,
Frozen in time
Like this
Simple poem.

midwinter melodrama

You might find me melodramatic
This midwinter night
In my navy, posh frock
With my magical moments
And flame-haired nonsense.

I digress and romanticise,
Express myself impulsively
Alongside evergreens,
Companionable fires and
illuminations.

Animal Collective
And sounds of Hejira
Remind me of you, with your
Walking boots and skew whiff
Pirate stance, lolloping into

Lamp-posts because part of you
Resides in 'an(other) dimension(s)'.
You confuse my senses,
It doesn't matter now if I write
With a nice pen or not.

Filled with warm fuzz in Narnia,
A sore hip and near-bust lip
Remind me of being a kid.
A nice, anti-traditionalist
Veggie dinner,

Pressies wrapped by Pops in
Recycled paper
And lovely as it is, I might just
Volunteer at a soup kitchen
Next winter.

Precious, bijoux gifts including
Sweet Music (oh Bijou!)
Garnet earrings and the romantic catalogue
Of an ended relationship
Through objects (ironic!)

Love notes, postcards,
Items of clothing, polaroids
And all the while
My brother catalogues
Lifetimes of song in decadagonal order,

Desiring to preserve the life of a dearly
Loved Dead-Head.
I also have recently rearranged my
Books according to Colour-
This therapy reigning order over chaos.

We're all obsessed with this in
Individual ways
But there were too many
Blacks and whites in the pile
To oppose the balance.

"It's just a book" representing a
Subjective collection of moments;
Separate lots of a life
Reflected in objects
To be viewed by collectors of detail.

I remember to avoid detail in life,
Concentrate on the same -
An album, a book, a poem, a photograph
Dedicated to love
Of the singular.

Should these islands of minds
Not be plural, please?
Connected by fluidity and sand
And yet, I fret
Not immediate contact.

Wavering, bonded, on a plateau
Below, my face like chalk to

Hide love's wings and

I jump at the noise

As lamp-light swims.

The residual spark,
The soot of contact, I envisage;
Foot to foot with those toes I love.
Dense hair on an open head
And sombre navy blue eyes,

Both dark and bright
Thus connected to life
By a solitary silver thread.
I dread the day you go away
But my arms encircle freedom.

I respect Your disregard for possession

In our recycled air.
Yes, You (and did You notice, You have
a capital letter?)
Even as I speak of removing possession.

Balance is key to all as I
Shake snow from the branches
Of trees like sprinkling dust,
Those symbols of solstice
Amongst frozen time and berry wine.

veggie-ism

Once upon a time
We caught and KILLED our own food.
Wild, eh?
Blood and guts - survival,
Hunting - the hunted,
The food chain argument.

But if I could find alternative sustenance
I would not kill more than
A little fish
Or at a stretch, a chicken,
(Though apparently it's difficult to catch one,
Let alone KILL it).

I doubt Coelho's love to breastbone
Technique would work in this instance!

My Mum says she's not a hypocrite;
Knows where it's come from
And would kill it herself if need be.
I don't quite believe her
Which makes me think -

Perhaps we're getting
Softer and softer,
Nicer and nicer,
As a result of these negatives?
Battery farmed chickens
Paving the way
For future chickens and their
Long
Harmonious
Lives.