Every female in the dream is me. I don’t know about the male aspects.
Genetically I’m double X. I don’t have a Y in sight.
The dream begins with me traveling to the past specifically to tell my friend, J. , that he needs to practice his Gene Hackman impression.
So this I do. He says,”Thanks,S.”
End the first part.
The second part and the third part:
I return to north of the border. I see my life in the Montreal landscape. The city is not as important as it is in other dreams. The city is a common recurring symbol in my dream. I’m not sure what it means. It may be similar to the role of “an architect” as in the Christopher Nolan film, “Inception”.
In past dreams I do use lucid techniques to design an urban environment. Although I wouldn’t describe myself as a city-person. I would describe myself as a changing person, a curious person. Maybe I feel more comfortable in cities because it’s easier to meet people.
The 2nd and 3rd of the dream I have my independence. I’m lucky because I got it early. Earlier than most people my age. The images in the dream all support this. In real life I speak Spanish. In my dream life: I live half in Northern Vermont and half in Montreal. Don’t forget I also live in a dreamtime, a 4th dimension, just like you too. The realm of our Higher Self, the Akashic Records and A.Crowley’s, “Holy Guardian Angels” there is at least one for each of us. A topic for another time.
To improve the quality of one’s dream life: a good beginning, drink water, especially before bedtime. Your bladder, will make you wake up. Other people use programmed chimes, lights, music, sound.
I prefer water and sunlight. I wake before sunrise. Let the cat out. Write down any dream fragments. Sometimes people use digital or audio cassette recorders. The more one writes, draws, creates, sounds,images from dreamtime the easier it is to remember. It also is a good introduction to alpha states (meditation, etc.)
It may be one of the most vulnerable of gifts to give. To share one’s dreams.
The last part of the dream, the 4th part. I am walking along a northern path. In real life J. Is a little shorter than me. But in this dream I’m younger and shorter than him. He has aged. He has become my father as well as an old friend. He is much older than me. Time took nothing from me.
It’s brisk wind. Cool. The bright Canadian sun falls upon us. On the west is a torrent of water. It is fresh and full of tree branches. Mostly the heartwood. No leaves nor bark. Looks like raw driftwood, without the sunbaked grey and salty bleach. The wood is wildcrafted, soft, and ready for tooling if one were to brave the fresh water rapids.
Writing this last part is difficult. Notice how it’s one of the few dreams I’ve shared where I am outside. I’m saying goodbye to my friend,J., he’s been like a father figure. But not anymore.
Below our feet is flat stones. Rocks the kind one skips. To the east are just a few saplings bushes, a windscreen of evergreen. Beyond, flat grasslands and swampland, the south is to our backs. It’s probably 10am. The light from the sun has risen so high in the east. Just enough to walk north without raising my hands to my eyes to block out the sun.
He thanks me for reminding him to practice his Gene Hackman expression. It brought him much success. I feel the enormous losses he has taken in his life to be old. Older than my own father.
I ask him how does he do it? How can he witness all this change and the breaking apart of friends and family without falling into the grip of fear. Frozen.
He says he inhales all the rage and pathos , all the shame and anger, the expectation and the loss of control. He inhales it with his breath, his lungs and when he is ready to exhale. He doesn’t. Instead he forms a diamond. It drops like a tear from his eye.