The Shadow, Dream #9, November 11, 1989

The Shadow, Dream #9, November 11, 1989

This¬† dream was originally entitled, Burning up the garbage. A numinous encounter with the Divine Child within, the dream is as alive in me today as it was in 1989. In my dream, a young child about Rachel’s age or smaller is walking toward me. As she walks, the pack sack on her back begins to burn. I take a step closer and we make eye contact. The child removes the burning bag. We merge into one person and watch peacefully as the bag and its content burn without a trace into nothingness. I am deeply peaceful. I awaken. In 1989, I understand the dream to mean that a burden of garbage, old beliefs, misunderstandings, pain, grief have been burned away. I am free to be the Real Child created in the image of God. I write a long poem to honoring the dream, the Mysteries of God, silence and stillness. I begin to question what “God” means. I meditate. During my silence, I recall experiences of prayer during the pilgrimage to Lac St. Anne this past summer.¬† Two friends prayed with me that afternoon. One told me she had a vision of a stone rolling away from my heart. The still peacefulness remained with me for many hours and into the evening. I read Luke 16:19-31. I am discovering the inner world of the Bible. I am coming to discern the difference between outer consciousness, worldly mindedness, sensory physical expression. Materiality starves the soul which becomes like a beggar awaiting scraps from the intellect and the senses. The soul, on the other hand, is eternal. In death there is no physical expression, thus the soul and inner consciousness will be free! I am begin to know that my search is within myself; thus the dreams. There is no outer authority that will “fix” me. I am seriously on my own. As a child, I read voraciously. The lives of the children at Fatima, a book I found in the shelves at my local church, miracles at Medjugorje, Garabandal, Zeitoun. I suppose I was already searching so many years ago. I studied elementary psychology in University. I studied nothing whatsoever about C G Jung, spirituality or the soul. My religious training consisted of family life, Sunday Mass and the Baltimore Catechism. As a midlife woman, I am looking for depth, not rules. Not external authority. I long for understanding. The intellect, the rich man in Luke, does not hear the still, small, inner voice. The heart and soul hear but the ego self refuses to give up control via the rational intellect. I am seeking integration, I guess. I begin to write. I AM. I contemplate the meaning of...

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