I don’t know about you of course, but there were times in my training as a healer when we were encouraged to keep a journal of all that happened, including our dreams which at that time came thick and fast and, with the ubiquitous pad and pen beside me, when I was single I was able to record all that were still there before the brain got going!

Then as my life changed the dreams drifted into oblivion faster than the pen could copy down their content. I have never been one of those spirited beings that could leap out of bed on the moment of waking. My awakening has always been a slow and more deliberate return from dream to waking consciousness, whether I could remember or not.

Of late this slower return to wakefulness after a night of movement and wakefulness with spasmodic lapses into sleep the muse facilitated, not a dream, but this poem to the waking mind, consciousness and Spirit:

Normally I waken to the physical reality
Of sun kissed hills surrounding us.
But what is normal as each day is unique
In its own way?
Normally it takes me time to waken,
But today I woke to a mist of mystery,
As all hills that surround us were shrouded
As if deliberately hidden, magically kept from me
And the all seeing eye of Horus that never closes
As if they did not exist. Where are you? I called,
Then through the dark needles of the pines
The rising sun began to make his rays into our valley,
Like long silver fingers turning to the golden lances
Of thrusting heat, unseating us from the cool of night
Driving off the mystery into a mirage like scene.
But the pines did not seem to mind the heat
Perfuming the air with their everlasting scent.
All else shrivelled and turned to dust!
The cooling cloak disappeared as if by magic
Revealing my familiar landscape,
And as I stepped from beneath veranda’s shade
To take in my favourite long distance view
The only moisture trickled from within
To cloud the vista once again,
And as if I wiped away a tear, I breathed
Life-giving air from my favourite vision
Scented with thyme, rosemary and pine
This blessed space, this place I call home
Has taught me so much, much about Earth
Much about solitude, of glut and dearth
How to repair, how to restore, how to relax,
How to become small in every way!
If you need to become small,
Look upon it as a blessing
Waking to your true reality.
© David Tenneson 2014.

It is a fact that the dream time is an important part of our humanity and in particular the enabling bridge between the conscious and the unconscious. Of course I believe that we probably all understand by now that the Soul is aware, being the Silent Witness, of all that goes on both in the conscious and the unconscious mental state, but unable to change anything, merely to observe.

The Spirit though takes advantage of the bridge: imagine a rope bridge in the jungles of the world swaying in the winds of change, from both directions, in both the conscious and unconscious energies, it recognises and brings the element of balance to the two, in particular to the conscious mind and can direct and differentiate the type of dream and its source.

Balance is achieved by this recognition and has the effect of calming the winds of change, bringing stability. It also allows into our conscious awareness what I can only describe as a warning dream to prepare us of something unforeseen in our life that is imminent, seen from the broad perspective of those who guide us.

One of the most important of these sojourns into the unconscious by the Spirit is to enable us, with our alert and waking mind, to recognise the different, personal symbols which it is important for us to understand so that we can interpret our own dreams, which is impossible for anyone else to do for us, by recognising the symbols employed in the warning dreams we are forewarned and therefore forearmed in our daily life.

Wishing you Sweet Dreams and Happy Wakings with Hanukah & the Angel.


About David

Devonian writer
This entry was posted in ANGEL, HAPPINESS, POEMS and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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