oneiros

I am at an artists retreat.  There are a whole bunch of men at the front collecting their belongings.  They all are caught up in being sterotypical males, talking about women as objects and proudly acting void of feeling.  I gather my things and leave.  I am here with my mom and several of her old friends before she became a dog woman.  There are others here too.  We step toward the back and one woman in our party, older and full of vivacious life talks to us over the railing.  She is so full of joy.  I look to mom silently asking about her.  She says "Cancer".  I tell the woman that I want to give her a message from myself ten years in the future (where I currently am asleep in my bed).  I say, "You mattered to me.  You made me better."  She smiles at me, a little quizzically, and invites us to the back of the retreat where there is beauty and an expectation of quiet.

I’m in a house looking out a glass window or am I in the front yard looking at locate? I think it’s  in the yard. There is a possum, bloated and frozen, in mid run beside a flowering bush that has lost all its bloom and foliage. Is the possum frozen in fear? Or is it dead?  Or stuffed? Beside the possum is a gazelle in mid run equally frozen. And to the side of the gazelle,  lying on its belly with a paw outstretched in front of the low gate barring the exit, there is a mountain lion or puma or some large cat of similar coloring. Equally frozen. I wonder, “Are they dead?” and then I think what could kill a possum, a gazelle  and a lion?  The lion  begins to move slowly. As it does I see children crouched in hiding on the other side of the lion all within the gate. I see their fear and I want to help them. Their eyes are wide and they look desperate. I am in the house now looking out of them. Did I move? Was it always in the house? I don’t know but I run out the front door. Just as they