Everything that pleases and pains
My husband was washing dishes at the kitchen sink. I asked him if there was a hummingbird at the feeder in the garden just outside the window.
“Do you see one?”
“Yes. It’s here at my feet.”
A little bird sitting quietly.
I was worried he would step on it. I walked over and picked it up to take it outside. It was very still in my cupped hand. It jumped in my mouth before I could open the door. It jumped in my mouth even though my mouth was not open.
The mountain is green. I wait for snow. One of my giant mothers is here with me. When we stand side-by-side my head is at her ankle bone. This mother is translucent with a blue outline. She says, Come with me. She is kind but I don’t want to go. I follow her up the mountain. We stop at the top. She has food. I have a bucket. I make a steam room to enjoy. But it is only for me. I am very happy. She is disappointed. She made dinner but I won’t eat. I am in awe. And full of guilt.
(This dream is from January 2017.)
My jacket pockets are filled with books which will protect me from the coming violence. They will stop bullets. A young girl approaches, raises her arm, in her hand is a knife. I catch her wrist as she strikes. I pull her to me, kiss her hair. She drops the knife. We hold each other. We cry. She grabs onto me, holding my neck, hugging me, her legs wrap around my waist. She is smaller. Like a child. Smaller. A toddler. Smaller. A little animal. Within a moment, she is a demon. She bites my neck, ripping my flesh off. Spits it out. I cannot get her off me. She has adhered to my body. I stand still. Open my arms. She bites a hunk out of my shoulder. My face. She eats me piece by piece until my body is gone and I am only awareness.
From a journey guided by Dr. Janet Piedilato.