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.]

Twelve Dancing Princesses: 'Melissa'

dreamt I fell asleep over the story I was writing at the desk in the office of St. Clair Shores. (It is not a good sign when my own writing puts me to sleep!) Some snatches of music, drifting in from somewhere on the property, and a solitary giggle woke me. While I sat, blinking, I heard the giggle again, then again, and left the desk and my soporific story to investigate.

Out of the inn and across the lawn I stumbled to stand on the rock strewn shore, shivering and wondering what I was seeing. At first I saw only swaying lights - I counted a dozen - but I soon realized that the lights were mounted on small boats. I cannot say if the boats departed from the same place or not, nor can I say whether they had departed from the island I could so clearly see. All I know is that a dozen boats came over the water to settle on St. Clair Shores.

One by one each of the twelve princesses stepped from her boat to stand before me as if for inspection. I noted that while each princess was dressed in her own individual style all of the boats were swan boats. I was rather awed by the princesses and I probably stared too pointedly for too long, but they were kind and patient, thankfully.

When I found my voice I was horrified to hear myself, well, shriek in a horrid and unpleasant manner. I thought of just running away and when I turned to go I heard a swishing noise behind me. The river rocks felt different under my feet and when I looked down I discovered I had the legs and feet of a bird! I confess, I panicked. After some frenzied dancing and jerking, which amused the princesses enough to make them giggle, I figured out I had become a peacock! The swishing sound had been the wind through those magnificent tail feathers.

For whatever reason, once I had discerned my 'fowl' identity I marched off in the direction of the music, calling loudly as I did, the princesses in a line behind me. I watched them dance and dance, and when it was time I led them, each carrying her tattered shoes, back to their swan boats.

I do not know how everything shifted (I never do in these dreams), but I suddenly found myself outside the warehouse. The princesses arrived at the door, each in her own time, each pressing her thumb to that labyrinth symbol to gain entrance. When the door closed behind the last princess I stole up the spiral ladder and hid behind the roses to see what I might of the princesses. What I saw, however, was all those tattered soles lying amid discarded carousel horses.

I wonder what it means, if anything, that the horses were all either black or white? Hmmm ... This is intriguing. It seems almost as if the dream is a message to wake up from what I was trying to write and ... what? ... escort twelve dancing princesses to the ball, as a peacock? Can a woman even become a peacock - the ones with the gorgeous, magnificent tails are the males, aren't they?

Roses at the Window: "Melissa"

This is a new experience for me. Until a couple of months ago dreams were just weird little wisps of what - whispers, whirling images? They evaporate with dawn and leave me to my business. This morning, though, I woke from a recurring dream of a warehouse and as I lay in that half-sleep between night and morning I heard a whisper: "Heart-mysteries there." That phrase has been in my mind all day. I am intrigued. I can't let it rest. I have no idea what to do to solve this 'mystery,' but I guess I could start by getting it all on paper. I consider myself primarily a writer so I am surprised that I want to see some of the images from the dream so badly that I am trying to draw them myself.

In the beginning of the dream I was standing at one end of a bridge of thick, ripply glass over a black, black river. The sky around me was black, too, yet at the other side of the bridge a huge moon hung full and pearly. Some way ahead of me on the bridge a black cat stood and studied me. Suddenly, up started a crow and with a last glance at me, as if to ask "Are you with me?" the cat turned and followed the crow. So, yes, I followed the cat.


As I crossed the bridge I watched the crow circle above a derelict building - not the sort of place I'd choose to visit when I'm awake. The building was shaped like an 'L' and something shimmered in the bend where the wings met. Whatever shimmered appeared to stretch up the wall and onto the roof. Both the crow and the cat were attracted to it. Gravel crunched under my soles as I picked my way across the wasteland of refuse and sweepings, old bottles and broken cans, old iron. I remember now! I remember thinking the place smelled absolutely foul but just as I did the crow squawked "foul is fair and fair is foul" ... "Macbeth"? Why "Macbeth"?

When I reached the cat and the crow I was surprised to discover that the shimmering object was a stunning, lush bush of white roses. Somehow the rose had taken root in the midst of all that refuse and dereliction and climbed tenaciously up a spiral ladder onto the roof of the shorter building. Before I thought about it - or all the thorns! - I had climbed the ladder to stand on the roof. Because this leg of the 'L' was shorter than the main building by one story I was able to peer into a room through a broken window. A tangle of the white roses spilled over the sill at one corner.

At first I could not understand what I was seeing. Moonlight and shadows chased across the floor and over the walls. When my eyes adjusted I saw piles of old rags and even old bones scattered everywhere. I looked more closely, trying to identify a large, colorful object with several protuberances discarded on the floor next to a crate. The moon chased the shadows away long enough for me to see that the object was a carousel horse painted in glorious shades of blue.

The moon held the horse in its silver light. When I shifted my point of view I think I saw other forms in the shadows, maybe other animals? The scene was compelling yet I wondered why I had been brought to this warehouse. I shifted again and came face to face with an industrious bumblebee lifting off from one of the fully blown roses. Absurd as it sounds I greeted the bee, "Hi, honey," and it seemed to dance a greeting back to me. The crow and the cat sat just above me on the roof watching every movement.

I looked at them. I watched the bee. I studied the carousel horse. After some time I understood the path the roses pursued. They were growing through the broken window as if that horse were their goal! "Excuse me," I said to the bee, broke off a spray of roses, and tossed them down toward the horse. "I don't know what I am supposed to do for you, but I will find out and I will be back."
Now what? I am back where I began. Well, not exactly. I finally figured out that bit about "Heart-mysteries there" and it may explain some of the images. The landscape of part of the dream sounds like the landscape of Yeats' "The Circus Animals' Desertion" -- but why did I dream this? Why have I dreamed of it a number of times?