dream 16 February 2014

February 20, 2014

16 February 2014 – Savannah Georgia
I’m in a restaurant with guardians. Significant that it’s taken me some effort to realize they’re not threatening me, they’re protecting me. I’m reluctant to be convinced of this. I’m there with another woman, a younger woman, and we are there to meet someone. Some guys come in and clear the Mexican restaurant out, because they’re looking for us and they don’t want anyone else around when we have our conversation with whomever is coming to meet us there. It feels like this person is a dignitary.

A man is humming a light wistful tune to us, like a lullaby. He says something about it being an “ancho” tune (like the kind of pepper). At another table the other young woman is sitting and has her coat draped over the chair. For some reason I’m on the floor trying to hide behind it. Why am I crawling around on the floor? Her jacket reminds me of a friend’s poufy cashmere coat, but this one is camel-colored.

There’s a raised area that the tables are on, arranged around a square patio or fountain. Down below is what might look like another dining area, but I think it’s a pool of water. One can see through it to the level below. The guide who’s humming finds me, and I think he’s trying to put me at ease with the song, and it’s sort of a joke about adding some ancho to the song. He expresses it by shifting into a minor key.

So I’m just realizing that these guys are like protectors, but I’m still nervous because I don’t know what’s going to happen next. That’s when I wake up in the hotel room very cold. One side of my face is as cold as if I had been against ice. However, I could tell that my sleep was very well protected.

[getting dark-light lift]
I remember 2 parts. First, I’m in an unusual sort of classroom setting. It’s quite intimate, and the class is about depicting a story, describing a scene, through a medium chosen by the student. Most are doing a film, writing, or 2-D artwork. In this dream, I feel the same tiredness and deep emotional, mental exhaustion I feel now (Sunday morning). Because of that, [magical] the instructor, a woman (middle-aged, tall, medium to thin build, olive skin, long wavy black hair tied up in a scarf, dark eyes) takes me aside to sit and talk. We’re discussing possible media I might use… I’m sitting on the floor, [chamber brush] and she’s sitting on a long bench/plinth beside me.

In front of me is small cabinet filled with tiny square drawers of clear plastic. Little tubs you can pull out. Each is crammed full [revert] of tiny things, that are related to the project at hand. Various kinds of dice, bits of yarn loops, other materials… the 2 types of object I recall most clearly are little yellow things that look like soft 1/2”-long ears of corn made from fiber (braided cord?), and clear red dice. The dice have many sides, like a sort of octahedron, and remind me of dice used in Dungeons & Dragons. We discuss what these [rear] mean, and how they can be used, and how they help somehow.

We talk during the full hour of the assignment, and just as I’m about to take one of the red dice for inspiration (there’s also a very tiny doll…?) we realize the hour is up. I have nothing to show for the time we’ve spent talking. So I say to her, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to take a Zero on the assignment then. It’s not a big deal in this case.”

(I remember how I used to have such frustrated nightmares about this sort of situation when I was in school…) [farther]

So the class disbands after gathering at the end of the session. There are several other men & women I know, we all walk outside… The place outdoors feels [bank] somewhat familiar, although the classroom building did not. We [husband] all chat casually and are friendly, and as I find myself having sort of left the group, I’m joined by a man. He’s not much taller than me, craggy [ice-palace] long squarish face, angular features [honor], shortish gray-brown hair [procreation], in a business suit. He warmly puts his arm around me, and I almost drape my left arm over his shoulders as we walk, but I restrain myself because as I look at him I don’t recognize him and I feel quite self-protective. He notices this and respectfully withdraws his arm, still walking close by my side. He wants to talk about architecture [earthquake], buildings [alike], and I hear the name “Himmel”. For some reason my mind went immediately to thinking of Himmler and fascist architecture, and I wasn’t very interested in or comfortable with that connection! (Upon waking I realized that the name the man was trying to say was “Kimmel”, Mark Kimmel) [location] But we walked to a sort of wooden park bench with a slatted seat, back, and sides, and sat there to talk some more. I was just beginning to trust him when a noise in the hall at the hotel woke me up. We were talking about various types of buildings…

After waking, I asked my guides to explain the dreams [fact]. Mikos spoke for Heruka, Moraine, Adrial, Fa, and others.
(from Mikos) Your dream last night was of a meeting with Moraine in the form of a Romani/Gypsy. She’s only a facilitator, you see? Making things available for your use. The “man” was/is a figure who’s new to you, and envoy to Abiquor. He is called “Lionel Kindred”. Let’s go, there’s too much noise in the hallway. But he came to tell you that there’s work to do on Abiquor.
(From Leslee: I searched online for that name, but was told the figure in the dream was not [soul-agreement] related to the man whose name I found online…)


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