She-Devil
Last night I dreamt of a house, a Victorian house that I was in the midst of rehabbing: creaky, cobwebby, dark, but also beautiful. Someone kept calling to me. My sister, Norrie, came to the door in Louis XIV garb. Still, I hear someone calling. I look out the window and across the street is a bright red house with black trim, and in front is a classic devil girl, all red, with horns, calling to me, and I’m feeling the pull to leave the house and join her.
Dreams
One cannot afford to be naïve in dealing with dreams. They originate in a spirit that is not quite human, but is rather a breath of nature — a spirit of the beautiful and generous as well as of the cruel goddess. If we want to characterize this spirit, we shall certainly get closer to it in the sphere of ancient mythologies, or the fables of the primeval forest, than in the consciousness of modern man.”
Carl G. Jung, “Approaching the Unconscious,” Man and His Symbols
Farmhouse
I dreamt last night of a farmhouse, my farmhouse. Somehow I knew it was mine, and there was a lot of work to be done. I was very aware of just how much work it would be for me as a single person to do the work of rehabbing the house and work the land to make it once again a working farm. Jenny was there, too, but as a child, and was, for one reason or another, in my care.
Dream within a dream
Last night, I had a dream of Jenny that was quite different from any I’ve had before. She was there, and she was with Gus. They were just there, and rather than feeling sad, I was content and enjoying their presence. Jenny started to walk away, and I said, “Please don’t leave.” And for the first time I can remember in my dreams of Jenny, she spoke to me. She said, “You can come stay with us.” I can’t remember if I said it or just thought it, but my response was “I can’t.” And then I left the dream. I didn’t wake up, but in my dream, I closed my eyes, and the dream of Jenny was no more.
Urban Carnival
Dreamt of a post-industrial city, all iron and steel, intermittently illuminated with the erractic flash of aging neon, populated with grime-covered clowns looking for love. In the midst of it all, I am talking with someone, trying to work through my feelings of grief and longing.
Musings & Meditations 
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