Boudicea

I had a dream last night which, it seems to me, delved into both the highly personal and the more specific.

It left me shaking but at the same time, relieved. Some light had been thrown onto my own history, as well as some of Our history as a primate growing into consciousness.

The dream went like this:

I lived in a house on a street. It was a small house, but big enough for my needs, and the needs of my family who lived with me. There was a garden out front, neighbours across the street, and dogs running around between yard and house. I loved that house in which I lived with my family. There were also maids in the kitchen, and in the front room, two aquaria containing tropical fish, which I kept forgetting to feed – still, those fish thrived.

One day, my father came home from the hospital where he had been for a long time. Almost immediately, he set about putting up Christmas trees by the front fence. A neighbour’s boy came to remove them, but I argued with him-although those trees, with their Christian iconography, made me angry. Nevertheless, the trees were removed. My father started talking about selling the house. I made no immediate answer, as the family were setting out to go to work and we all climbed into the car. My Mom drove us, but I suddenly remembered that I had left my lunch tin back at the house. I got out of the car, expecting it to wait for me, but it drove away.

I returned to the house, realising that I would have to take a day off work now – my Mom had abandoned me, and so had the rest of my family. I lay down for a sleep, while the maids worked cheerfully on in the kitchen. When I awoke, my family were back, and I remembered my Dad’s talk of selling the house. I flew into a rage at him, even as I noted that he was fully twice my size. It came over me at that point, for the first time, that I was the legal owner of this house. That I was paying for it on a regular basis, and that when I had finished paying, it would be wholly mine. Not my father’s, or my brother’s, or my mother’s, who had apparently abandoned me. Mine.

The enraged Terri was also the suddenly enlightened Terri. The one who realised, at last, that there are things in this incarnation for which you take ownership. And also that there was aid all around me –from the maids in the kitchen to the free-roaming canines to the neglected fish in the aquaria – which I had totally failed to recognise.

I awoke with the ownership of my house resounding in my heart, and felt a direct link to my shamanic dismemberment, the start of my awakening in this dream of life.

The tale is told, then, of parts of my personal journey – yet also, I started to see, parts of Our journey as embodied beings at the same time. I was filled with wonder.

As the saying goes, she who can receive it, let her then receive it.

Pic: Queen Boudicca by John Oupie