I was wandering through a series of lovely homes – each exquisitely decorated, each containing happy, serene people – when I started to bleed from my womb. In my dream, I was, as I am now, a woman a few years past menopause, yet the bleeding did not particularly surprise me.
I was called to the house of a friend, and as I entered the building at the ground floor I was caught up by an invisible field, which drew me gently up the inside of the house.
Many stories I rose, parallel to a wall of glass through which I could see the entire night-lit city. Looking out entranced at the cityscape of Our unconscious, I saw gorgeous stone sculptures close to the glass wall, and a bright searchlight in the middle distance.
City of Our dreams, city glowing in the night with Our luminous being-nesses, each light an individuated consciousness-now sleeping, drawing closer to me as a rising spirit in the home of our dream desires.
In the dream, I was aware of a seriously joyful wonder in my own individuated soul – a wonder at how far We had come, how much We had to share, and how competent We truly could be.
That dream is still with me, days later, as is a renewed sense of the Good, the True and the Beautiful – drawn down from the Love which moves the sun and other stars.