I haven’t been sleeping super well lately. On Monday night, though, I had a vivid dream. A dream that was interrupted by Whit whining at the top of the stairs, but it was so powerful (and I almost never remember my dreams) that after putting Whit back to bed, I scribbled some notes on my palm in pen in the dark. In the morning, of course, I had forgotten the dream, until I saw the chicken scratch on my hand and it all came flooding back.
I was in the woods in winter with a group of people. All was bleached, muted, with those beautiful pale colors that I associate with the dormant landscape. Everything was crunchy, leafless, dry, dead. I don’t know who I was with, other than one old friend, Ann Moss. She is one of my sister-friends from growing up, one of the Four Families who flanked me as a child. I know I felt a surpassing sense of peace and comfort in this group of people, and Ann’s presence is hint that they were old, constant, trustworthy friends.
Somehow, the group of us held hands and closed our eyes and said some kind of chant, and suddenly we were paragliding. I have never done this before. My father’s younger brother, who died years ago, was a glider pilot and this imagery has always captivated me. Perhaps it is on my mind lately because of Kelly Corrigan’s assertion in Lift that to stay aloft we have to steer straight into the turbulence. I don’t know. But I was gliding through the sky, one of my oldest and truest friends at my side, and it was marvelous. I felt both free and safe, a combination I have felt so incredibly rarely in my life.
I’m still unpacking the meaning of this dream, trying to just hold it in my mind and let it soak in, but I’m certain the messages are both about taking risks and about seeking the safe, steady comfort of friends I can really trust. I have so much fear of flying. Dreaming about it makes me wonder if it is time to stare into the discomfort of the endless questions, to trust that flying can feel like falling, and to let myself fly.
There is so much power in dreams, especially the ones that leave you thinking on them for days. Those are the ones that always leave me feeling shaken, no matter what they are about. If they are that vivid, that clear, there’s something to them.
Follow your dreams – they are the call of your soul to the waking part of you. And don’t be afraid to fly.
I find the symbolism of your dream so interesting!
The point you make here: “… about taking risks and about seeking the safe, steady comfort of friends I can really trust” fascinates me.
I’m thinking about how in the past few months, I’ve started to feel like I can stop being afraid – finally, after so many years.
I am learning that I am safe because I really do have the support and comfort of true friends (and family) that really do know me and are with me anyway. That I can take those risks and they will be there with me in the desert (as Ronna says).
Anyway, thanks again Lindsey for sharing with us!
To feel free and safe at the same time, what a rare combination indeed. If paragliding in dreams is what it takes, I’m going to sleep with this post under my pillow and hope my own subconscious takes note.
How lovely is this, Lindsey? More paradox, more fear/faith, more risk/courage free/safe – a powerful manifestation of this ever-clearer vast design.
Fly. Fall. Be free. And never alone.
Big dream. A few thoughts, since you shared it: The forest is the place of the sacred (it is said that India built great temples because it had been deforested early on, the forest being the original temple and paradise); however, on the cusp of April, you dream of being in the dead or dormant forest, the trees echoing friendship and community which surround you (full of nascent life), which you clearly realize and to which you resonate.
Ann Moss strikes me as a double-entendre, as “moss” can be a marker to lead us out of the forest if we are lost. Holding hands and closing eyes might be a symbol of faith, feeling connection rather than looking for conventional signs. Chanting suggests a primitive, perhaps pagan attitude of original prayer, which is more about communing with what is rather than asking for anything.
Paragliding seems to suggest that the prayer is answered with shamanic flight—with a transcending to higher consciousness, but IN RELATIONSHIP with others.
This dream suggests that you are on the right path, and that the unconscious likes what you are doing, rewarding you with feelings of freedom, safety and love all combined.
The tragic death of your uncle may relate to the archetype of the Puer (see St. Exupery’s “Wind, Sand & Stars” or Von Franz’s “Puer Aeternus” for more on that), but you seem to both honor his spirit and transcend his demise through allowing connection and relationship.
This dream also has a collective aspect, which is why I so appreciate your sharing it here—there is no reason that we cannot ALL find community, safety and freedom as we transcend our individual selves and discover our greater identity in friendship, love and each other.
Finally, it is interesting to me that “Lindsey,” means, amongst other things, “an island of linden trees,” evoking your journey to find your personal voice and your self, and at the same time be part of the group, the forest and the sky.