Pregnancy of the Dream
Land, sand, beach, sky, mountains, sea, plant life – each and all pregnant with life, pulsing with possibilities.
Like our dream – also pregnant with potential and possibility –
Our psyche, or soul, or source, or inner beat, that deep rich soil within, provides the compost.
Like poetry or a painting or a piece of writing or a sunset or sunrise or the sound of the waves or the trill of a bird that speaks to the soul, we feel the pull, the tug, some visceral reaction to a dream. We pause when a dream or an image presents itself, whether in paradox or more clearly. Our psyche is penetrated, some passage is opened, a page is left opened for further study. There is purpose, though dimly seen.
Most often, the dream presents a puzzle to us, or to me in any event. But, with patience, putting those pieces of the puzzle into their rightful place, sometimes incorrectly, even misplacing the pieces of the borders, and seeing the pattern finally emerge, not necessarily to completion, is uplifting.
Laying out the pieces of the puzzle requires preparation; the table needs to be clear. For my night-life some planning helps. Before I ‘turn in’ for the night, I ensure that my small torch is clipped to my dream journal. I often look at previous dreams to see if I can discern a thread – or give some sort of title to a previous dream. I ask my unconscious to provide a dream, knowing that this can’t be predicted.
I know that decoding my dreams takes practice and that the more attention I give to them, the more will be yielded.
The dream is your guide, helpful in showing possible paths
own photo of Plettenberg Bay, Southern Cape.