Night Crossing


I’ve had a remarkable couple of dreams in the last week.

The first, and opener of the way, showed me myself crossing a bridge.
It was night. The bridge was broad and smooth, lit along its length quite brightly.
The river it crossed was also broad and smooth – ice cold, clear water with a marked absence of flowing.

In the middle of the bridge, I looked over the edge. There, beneath the water, crystal-visible, was the sunken wreck of the Mary Rose. On her deck, Henry VIII and some of his courtiers.
The autocratic, neurotic Tudor king was dead, or sleeping, but perfectly preserved so that I could see him clearly through the absolutely transparent water.Preserved, perhaps, as a reminder of what I was leaving behind me as I crossed this bridge: hauteur, neurosis, paranoid anxiety.

The bridge led us (yes, there’s always more than one of me in my dreams) to a city which resembled London. There, we browsed among the shops and stalls in the market place. This is a familiar dream-pattern for me. Among the old metal athames – antiques, all of them, and priceless – and stones of great value were bundles of thick tree twigs, each fashioned like a candle, with a wick on one end. These I knew as being from the Liquidamber tree, a good source of storax, or benzoin.
Antiseptic, cleansing, useful in Mercurial workings – especially now, with Mercury retrograde in my third house.

Then, last night, I had a dream the like of which I’ve never had before. In it, my grandfather Anderson was clearly communicating with me: or not so clearly, if you will, as he was speaking through one of his by-blow descendants. A family name was given to me, with much emphasis. It remains for me to research the information I was vouchsafed, but I have a feeling that this is the first of a series.

Let’s see what develops. But I know this much: I am crossing the bridge and it’s a fair crossing, leaving behind much that has blocked my growth and knowledge of myself in the last year or two. The city (and yes, I dislike that imagery but it seems to be a convenient one for now) I am crossing into is full of potential, and a sense of being where I belong.

Image taken from here

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2 responses to “Night Crossing

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