Fire by Night Newsletters
Fires, floods, earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, wars, and still… maybe forever… the pandemic. Systemic racism. Political differences turning to vicious outrage. Global scale refugees fleeing violence, political chaos, and environmental disaster. The erosion of the social contract. General disconnection, isolation, fear, and anxiety. These realities we cannot miss, but it’s tempting to ignore and deny them, which would only make them worse. Yet what can one person do to help in the face of all this upheaval?
I certainly don’t have any answers. But of course I wonder what the dream source is offering to our collective wisdom. As I listen to your dreams, I hear some similar themes that give me hope. I hear the theme of a sobering optimism, and I see some images that picture how we might actually live into that kind of realistic, grounded hope.
It seems to me that the first step is simply to share these dreams. With permission from the dreamer, I share this one:
Battle and Feast
A battle is raging in the sea. It is the classic apocalyptic scenario of Good vs. Evil.
Archetypal characters from ancient and modern myth are fighting fiercely.
Darth Vader with his faceless Storm Troopers battle Harry Potter and the heroes of Gryffyndor. Luke Skywalker, Anakin, and Dumbledore clash with Voldemort, Darth Maul, and the Deatheaters. Winged centaurs join the fray while Dr. Who gets injured and is taken prisoner. Suddenly one of the white-clad Stormtroopers separates from the battle and rips off his helmet. He is Finn, who joins the Resistance and carries the limp Dr. Who to safety. There in a green meadow, the Good Guys laugh and celebrate what feels like a great victory. Maybe they hope this somehow turns the tide of battle.
Suddenly, a woman appears – a crone, bearing a staff, her face and body draped in a cloak like sparkling silver mist, and she intones in a commanding voice: “HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT BABETTE’S FEAST!”
Instantly the scene shifts and now there is a picnic, outdoors, with beautiful food. One of the women at the table says, “We let it happen. We let it end. I thought it would always continue, but now it’s only once a day.” The people eat. There is a profound, pervasive feeling of sorrow, and at the same time, celebration. This feeling lingers into waking.
The dreamer shared this with her dream group, and everyone in the Zoom circle was moved. The more we explored what it brought up for us, the deeper and more profound it seemed.
Consider how it moves you.
I want to take as my own guidance the feeling at the end of the dream: Keep the feast, with sorrow and joy.
While all dreams are for the dreamer, and about the dreamer, many dreams are a feast to be shared. We all learn and grow from the deep Wisdom in each other’s dreams. But there does seem to be a special category, and the dream about the Battle and the Feast is one of them. These are dreams from the collective unconscious, and they are truly needed by the rest of us. They offer guidance and wisdom and advice. A measure of comfort. A perspective of realism and hope.
This dream is so powerful because it is ultimately so simple and hopeful. Yes, we are in a cosmic battle, we fight for values, ideals, for people, and for the very the earth that keeps us alive. It is a desperate situation, yet we must help each other cultivate openminded curiosity, trust, and a hopeful heart.
Just keep the feast.
On a personal note:
I moved! After nearly 40 years in Nashville, I now live in Jonesborough, a little town in East Tennessee, where I enjoy family…mountains...and a much gentler rhythm. I miss my Nashville people, but I don’t miss the traffic and the general hustle.
Meeting dreamers on Zoom is keeping me busy, and as soon as the screen is up on my new porch, I’m open for in-person dreamers.
And stay tuned - I’m scouting out a place to offer dream retreats once the pandemic eases up.
Thank you and deep dreams, all.
If you have any dreams that offer wisdom for collective healing and wholeness, I’d be grateful to hear them. Please send to firstname.lastname@example.org. I never share dreams without permission.
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