Never: "Melissa"

ever, never, ever! - would I have guessed that someone could look at me and smile like that! I remind myself over and over that it was just a dream, but it still rocks me. I feel like I've been hit by lightning. And the blinding smile isn't even all of it! I think I'd better begin at the beginning.

In this dream I was wandering around somewhere, I don't know where, but

it looked like a park of some sort. There was an air of expectation, I thought, and I looked around to see if something was happening. There were people walking into a ruined building - I think it was an old church or temple or something. So I followed them.

The interior of this ruined temple had been transformed into a theatre and up on the stage I could see the twelve dancing princesses. The set was made to look like their bedroom on the morning after they'd been dancing. They were lounging around drinking tea from their dancing slippers! How funny. The scene was witty and kind and thoughtful, and enchanting. They seemed so sweet. It would be so much fun to know women like that.

I was smiling on the inside and the outside by the end of the play so I wandered into the gift shop to see what I could find to take home with me. The Richard-the-Lionhearted puppet was there as were some adorable papier mache slippers like the ones the princesses used to serve tea to one another. I laughed out loud when I saw those. There were fools' caps, too, like the one in the office at St. Clair Shores, and each had a scepter to match - a scepter with bells.

Then I saw rows and rows of a book of poetry. The covers caught my attention because they were like the photos and pictures in the "Harry Potter" stories - the people moved and spoke. There was a woman in a Renaissance gown standing in a garden of some sort. She was stroking the brow of a unicorn and speaking with a young girl who also wore a dress of the Renaissance period. In the background I saw a lion, like the one on the Richard-the-Lionhearted puppet.

In a flowing script across the top, with flowers and vines interlaced among the letters was the title, "Sonnets to Ophelia." I remember thinking while I was dreaming that "Sonnets to Ophelia"sounded very intriguing. I turned the book to see if there would be a photo of the poet - and had the shock of my life.

As soon as I saw that dark, dark hair and the blood-stained white shirt I knew he was my 'Dark Man' from the warehouse - but I still could not see his face. His back was turned to me. I must have cried out or something (I was so frustrated!) because he turned very slowly and looked at me. He smiled. He smiled that smile that blinded me. I felt - still do feel - like I'd been struck by lightning. A cliche, I know, but ... Can you feel everything stop inside you in a dream? You must, because that's what if felt like, everything just stopped. I never knew anyone could smile like that. I never knew anyone could smile like that at me! And everything just stopped. I can feel it all stopping, and shifting, inside even as I write this.

By the time I gathered my wit (not wits, only one wit) it was too late. He'd turned away again. I wanted to cry, but decided to buy the book, and the little shoes, instead. As I was paying for them I heard someone who sounded like a cantor singing back in the theatre: "I saw water flowing from the right side of the temple." I looked to my right and, yes, there was a window and, yes, I could see a river flowing past.

I don't know how long I spent sketching his face from memory, but I'm glad I did it. I had to. Since I sketched the tableau of the women in the garden I find myself thinking it feels familiar to me, but I can't say why. It is strange, too, to realize that the girl's face reminds me a lot of my face - I saw that as I turned it over in my mind while I sketched. Strange.

I do not understand this. Why is a girl who looks like me wearing Renaissance period clothing depicted on the cover of a book of poetry, written by my 'Dark Man,' with the title "Sonnets to Ophelia"?

'Statues Crumble for Me': "Melissa"

verywhere I go statues crumble for me ... who knows how long I've loved you?" I heard that over and over in my dream last night; it sounded like part of a song. Maybe it is. I don't know. All I know is that I dreamt I was back in that office at St. Clair Shores staring in fascination at a mirror someone had hung on the wall. I was startled, to say the least, because it was the same mirror those demon cats held in that dream from a long time ago - the one with Medusa.

Before I could figure out just why the mirror would be in my St. Clair Shores office I saw Medusa herself appear in the mirror and stand with her back to me, looking into an identical mirror. A mirror within a mirror. Medusa asked the mirror, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the foulest of them all?" All I could think was that this was certainly not the way I learned the "Snow White" story when I was little. My mouth dropped open - I must have looked like some landed fish! - when the mirror told her a name just before she stepped into the mirror and walked between two rows of beds in some amazing room in a gothic church or castle of stone. It reminded me of the children's story "Madeline" ... twelve little girls in two straight lines. I counted them as I watched.

She was utterly silent and wasted no time singling out one of the sleeping forms on one of the twelve beds. A pair of worn out shoes with battered soles lay at the foot of each bed and each princess - for I recognized the twelve dancing princesses asleep on those beds - had dropped on top of the bed covers in her ball gown.

Twelve times Medusa questioned the mirror and twelve times she went into that vast room on the other side of it, to touch a princess and turn her to stone. I have no idea why she asked her question of the mirror repeatedly, but she did. I remember it vividly.

I stood there staring at the sight of those twelve immobilized princesses lying there in that vast space - effigies, it seemed, atop their tombs. Answers, I wanted answers, but I wasn't sure where to begin. I did receive a happy answer, of sorts. My Crow arrived just then, along with young Ham and his buddy, Sam. They flew in on a pig, the pig from the 'Lost and Found' bin, right behind my Crow.

Ham called out to me that we had to go break the spell on the princesses. I started to climb onto my Crow's back, but suddenly remembered something. I shouted "Wait!" and ran out of the room. The next thing I knew I was digging through the 'Lost and Found' bin, pulling out shoes, their tongues flapping. I shoved the shoes into a bag and climbed on my Crow's back, then we flew - boy, girl, and woman, pig and Crow - through the mirror into the princesses' sleeping chamber.

Ham leapt from his pig and ran from bed to bed, kissing each statue as I ran from bed to bed leaving shoes for them. I could not hear what Ham said to the princesses because the sound of crumbling and falling stone became a bit loud, and we hurried away because the Crow said it was time to go, time to leave.

Back at St. Clair Shores Ham, Sam and I snacked on animal crackers and cocoa in the office. The Crow joined us after flying around a bit, and he gave me a puppet he found somewhere. The puppet was LOVELY - a medieval king in beautiful robes with a crown on his head. His robe was embroidered with a myriad of stars among shields decorated with a gold lion of the coat-of-arms of King Richard I, King Richard the Lion-Hearted.

I slid my hand into the puppet then picked up my pen. I wielded it like a sword and tapped Ham first on one shoulder, then the other. "In the name of King Richard the Lion-Hearted I knight thee Sir Ham, for your courageous and loving service to the Order of the Heart. I hereby knight your loyal and steadfast steed also. Rise, Sir Ham."

Musings.13: Barbara

elieve me - I do not think for a moment that falling asleep in the midst of writing a story, as happened to Melissa, is necessarily an indication that one's writing is bad or "soporific." It may be the case on occasion, but more often than not I think it is the Creative Force's way to slow down the writer and get them to see some creative elements that they are missing. If it is one thing the Creative Force loves it is a writer who listens to Its stories.

"Why don't you tell your dreams to me, fantasy will set you free ... Close your eyes girl, look inside girl ... " Steppenwolf

So, in this most recent dream of Melissa's it appears that she is awakened to an aspect of her identity through her efforts as a writer, a storyteller. The dream presents her with an image of herself as a peacock which is rather unusual, as Melissa notes, because male peacocks possess the magnificent plumage. (There is one type of peacock whose females have splendid plumage, but the male still possesses the more notable feathers.)

One thing I have learned when dealing with surprising imagery in dreams is that I always check for any connections to mythology. It was a delightful surprise to discover that both the peacock and the swan have associations to the Hindu goddess Saraswati. Saraswati emerged from the mouth of Brahma, bringing books of wisdom and knowledge to aid humanity in forming solutions to bring order out of chaos. Her arrival was heralded by a peacock, and she emerged on the back of a swan.

"Be - as a page that aches for a word that speaks on a theme that is timeless." Neil Diamond, "Jonathan Livingston Seagull"

Following the logic of dreams it appears that the Dreaming Universe is instructing Melissa to see that her role as a writer is that of heralding the arrival of the goddess Saraswati. Curiously, however, the Dreaming Universe presents her with a cast of characters culled from Western fairy tales, the Twelve Dancing Princesses. The fairy tale is not presented in its entirety here so I tend to think that at this stage in Melissa's development as a writer the elements she was shown are simply the vital ones: twelve princesses, the swans, the ball, the tattered soles.

When the princesses are escorted from the ball and arrive at their common destination, the question of identity is again highlighted. At first glance it appears that the identity of the princesses is to remain a mystery, but Hindu mythology teaches that both black horses and white horses symbolize Saraswati and her consort, Brahma. So, again, we are pointed to the goddess as the source of universal wisdom and knowledge for humanity.

I note also that the Celtic goddess Epona is associated with the horse. Perhaps the western fairy tale pointing to Saraswati is suggesting that Epona is also to be acknowledged. Thus we would see the goddess of universal wisdom and knowledge spreading across Europe up from Asia.

"I am a human Be-ing." Deepak Chopra

The Goddess has appeared in Melissa's dreams in many guises, but now, by explicitly referencing a European fairy tale the message appears to be that such tales represent the universal wisdom and knowledge couched in them. Until this dream that wisdom and knowledge was merely suggested by the occasional appearances of the Faerie Queen and Her King.

This association of fairy tales with universal wisdom and knowledge is strong 'medicine' indeed. This is so especially as it is presented to Melissa after the dream in which she refuses to respond to her father's demands to act in the way he chooses for her, and receives affirmation of the wisdom of maintaining her dream.

"You gave me life now show me how to live ..." Audioslave

The appearance of the fairy tale to Melissa demonstrates Bruno Bettelheim's assertion that over the centuries fairy tales "came to convey at the same time overt and covert meanings - came to speak simultaneously to all levels of the human personality, communicating in a manner which reaches the uneducated mind of the child as well as that of the sophisticated adult." (emphasis mine)

The psychological challenges of "becoming able to relinquish childhood dependencies; gaining a feeling of selfhood and of self-worth and a sense of moral obligation" are not confined to a specific age level. These tales offer anyone who approaches them with an open mind the opportunity to fit "unconscious content into conscious fantasies, which then enable him to deal with that content."

"Someone tries to hide himself down inside himself ..." Audioslave

The challenges of Melissa's life, as shown to us in these dreams, strongly suggest that Mr. Barker's expectations of her and her vain attempts to meet them have derailed her. The fairy tale points her toward an identity and a role, should she choose to accept them. It is especially interesting that the fairy tale has been altered, tailored, to her specific needs. Perhaps the most enchanting aspect of this dream, this fairy tale is that it speaks to her about her. It acknowledges aspects of her unconscious life that nothing or noone else has ever noticed, let alone acknowledged.

"The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are." Joseph Campbell

These dreams and the fairy tale offer Melissa "hope to live not just from moment to moment, but in true consciousness of our existence." Romeo could have been speaking for untold legions of people who "have lost the will to live, and have stopped trying," because a meaning to their life has evaded them:
Mercutio: Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
Romeo: Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes/ With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead/So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

How would Romeo respond were he to meet any of the Twelve Dancing Princesses?

[A bibliography for this post includes:

Bettelheim, Bruno. "The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales." New York: Vintage, 1975

Shakespeare, William. "Romeo and Juliet." New York: Bantam, 1988]

[Photo: The tattered heels of the shoes I wore to the Folger Shakespeare Museum, Washington, D.C. - the sidewalks just destroyed them.]