I had a dream last night about the 3 of us. We had a business in a brownstone out in the country. I don’t know if there are brownstones in the country. But this was a New England type brownstone.
Liz was there. And my mother, Amelia. It was a well-known fact that Amelia could read auras. Mine was sky blue. And she said it was healing. The 3 of us were getting along well. There was a scene where we took off skating on a frozen pond between bare branches of aspen and birch. Wordraw wore black ice skates. So did ybonesy. They were chasing each other.
I wasn’t there. I was watching from a window. And smiled at their playfulness. They were with two clients and had taken them off skating on a trail through the woods.
It reminded me of the photograph I took in February of Wordraw and ybonesy walking down the snowpacked, icy road at Kiowa Ranch. Ybonesy is pushing to gain speed so she can slide in her black boots across the ice. She revs her body up, gaining momentum, and then step, step, step, whewwwwww, slides down the hill toward my camera.
At the same time, her arms fly up in the air, helping her keep her balance. Wordraw is in the background smiling with his Wayfarers on. It is more like a boyish smirk. And I don’t know if they were Wayfarers. It sounds cool to say they were. Back to the dream.
Another scene, we are sitting around the brownstone. A client walks in. It’s like we have this business that draws people for one reason, like we have a storefront offering. But they are really there for another, some kind of healing energy. To get to know themselves. For tools. We have something to offer.
I asked if the person needed anything. They had their child with them. They said they wanted to hang out in one of our sitting areas for a while. We said okay. Wordraw was sitting next to me, Liz, and Amelia on a large couch where we were relaxing in sunbeams streaming through clear panes in a crossbar window. He said he wasn’t feeling well. Liz reminded him that Amelia could read auras. Amelia said his was in an agitated state that was pushing back on him. She said to meditate and be still. To walk out in nature.
Another woman came to visit us. She walked around the brownstone, reading the energy. That sounds strange. But she was talking to the walls. And, after all, it is my dream. When she came to a certain spot, she said there was a 40 year old letter or contract buried deep in the wall.
“Yeah, right there,” she pointed to a midsection of brick wall over a daybed. “There’s a letter buried there.”
That’s when Liz’s alarm went off. I was groggy when I turned over to spoon her and realized it was a dark morning between winter and spring. And the letter in the wall had only been a dream.
But that letter is haunting me. I wonder what it says?
Thursday, March 22nd, 2007
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