The Observer or the Observed?

In a previous post, I shared with you my wonderful clear light dream experience, but for any just tuning in, it was a two installment dream from Oct and Dec of 2001. In October I woke up to an announcer man's voice saying; "Can the ego be dissolved; what is the role of the observer?" Then in Dec, I came back from a dream where I had known total unity with a magnificent loving light source, where I retained some sense of myself, but definitely not an ego sense. I woke up thinking, I'll never be able to explain this to anyone, not even to myself.

These two little dream experiences are on my all time hit parade. I can readily recall the blissful experience of pure being. I know people meditate years to achieve such an experience and it was given to me, who only went to sleep anticipating whatever the dream source wanted to hand out this time. I don't doubt that as J. Ziewe, author of the wonderful book on out of body experiences, Multi-Dimensional Man claims, a regular meditation practice can lead to even greater OBE and dream experiences. But amazing experiences also come through ordinary, spontaneous sleep dreams.

When I remembered these dreams while walking on the beach this Spring, I realized how lost in my head I was at that moment; so I let my ego become the Observer, seeing the breathtaking beauty before me, being present in it with all my senses. What a difference! I know that this parallels the Buddhist teaching of mindfulness, this presence in the moment; but the koan that taught me this lesson is a dream.

In the DVD program, The Way of the Dreamer with Robert Moss, Robert recounts a belief held by the Yoruba peoples of West Africa that we all have a double in heaven who watches over us. This other, higher self watches our earth life and counsels us, primarily in dreams. We may even switch roles, observer and observed, from lifetime to lifetime.

I've had a few dream visits from a twin self, one in which she's encouraging me to pursue my passion for dreams. She looks just like me, though usually her hair is different; I definitely experience her as other.

The Observer or the Observed?  It feels like the difference between coming from a spiritual center, what Jung would call the Self, and coming from the ego, the little I, given to childish, not childlike, thinking.

My dreams teach me to be present; I learn things in dreams that prove life enhancing and healing in my waking life. I've always enjoyed dreaming of my double, although it's a rare treat. Thank goodness I've kept journals to help me revisit her. Is she my guardian angel? Judging from her track record in my dreams, something like that.

 I don't think people have to run off and become Jungian scholars to appreciate a dream life and a dream practice; I think paying attention and honoring dreams is child's play, so we can all do it.

 May all our best dreams come true. May we all listen to our higher counsel, open our hearts and act with the confidence that we're not alone; we have allies and sources of inner strength, not only in dreams, but certainly available there.

Crocodile Friday

Today is Good Friday; Christians all over the world commemorate the sacrifice Jesus made on their behalf, a sacrifice rooted in extreme LOVE.

For me, today is also Crocodile Friday. Let me tell you why.

When I was a little girl, around 5 years old, living in Havana with my mom, dad, big brother and collie, I had my first Big Dream. It was Good Friday and in those pre- revolution times, Good Friday was a religious holiday observed by all business, media and people. I didn't grow up in a religious household, just a loving one. As usual in those halcyon days, I got up and had the whole day to play on my swings, draw or find some other enchanted occupation for myself.

Graciela, the wonderful Afro-Cuban woman who came to help my mom, was in the kitchen chopping carrots. I ran in to say hi and she was uncharacteristically curt with me. In a firm voice she said; "No nina, vete, que tengo este cuchillo y el diablo esta suerto hoy, y alomejor te corto sinquerer." Meaning, "No little one, get out; I have this knife and the devil is loose and I might cut you accidentally." Needless to say, I made a bee line for my swing set in the front yard. But then, I was afraid to swing, just in case, so I sat and thought about what Graciela had said.

I might have forgotten all about it after a while because next thing I know, it was bed time and I'm kissing my mom and dad goodnight; they were watching a Passion Play, which was the only thing being televised. In the middle of the night I woke up from a big ass nightmare, crying.

In my dream, I know that there is a gargantuan crocodile standing in the bathtub. I see it in my child mind's eye, just towering in the bathtub. I do the only sensible thing and scream for my parents to come and get me.

Spring ahead 13 or so years later and I'm a Freshman English major in college. Reading Joseph Frank's, Literature of the Bible, I come across a footnote on the creature Leviathan in the Book of Job. To paraphrase (as I no longer have the book handy) he says that Leviathan is often depicted as a humongous crocodile and identified with Satan. I hadn't remembered my crocodile dream until that moment when it came slamming into my consciousness like the huge dream train slams into the station in the movie, Hugo. I sat there and marveled; how could a five year old child know this? As a Freshman, I hadn't read Carl Jung's work on the collective unconscious, but my deep curiosity about dreams and the nature of dreaming began that day.

In Jung's view, and this is something that contributed to his rejection of Freud's dream theories, the unconscious is not just a repository for suppressed, uncivilized and aggressive impulses. (No wonder people don't want to look into that velvet dark.) To Jung, the unconscious is a vast inner space, (to borrow a phrase from the brilliant Sci-fi author, Ursula LeGuin), a space that offers both creativity and healing and is accessed in dreams. Part of that space is the collective unconscious, the source of all that binds humanity as one, home to the Archetypes of human kind.

I've since learned that Cuba is thought to resemble a semi-submerged crocodile, because the island is shaped like one and that there is a species of crocodile, one of only four in the new world, that's found primarily in Cuba and is called the Cuban Crocodile. It's known for leaping straight up from the water in order to catch prey mid air. I didn't know this till just recently; imagine!

My Crocodile visitation is an ongoing source of fascination to me. Since I discovered this particular animal archetype in my childhood bathtub, I've come to see many aspects of the image. Today, She is the Babylonian Queen of the Ocean, Tiamat, the primordial dragon, and She is fearsome. She is Howling Mary, the slain Feminine archetype who came to me in my Howling Mary dream, biding her time, letting her presence be known. http://litadreaming.blogspot.com/2011/08/howling-mary.html And, haven't you ever seen those wonderful little front yard shrines to Mary in an upended bathtub? Yes, it's Mary in that bathtub, too.

This is the power of dreaming. This is how Big Dreams often come, as childhood or early nightmares. Perhaps, with apologies, the dream source impacts us with nightmares and hopes we've got the good sense to explore the message further.

I don't want to skip over the role of Devil in my early totem dream. Certainly, I would never romanticize or cutesy up the crocodile; never do I want to come face to face with one in waking life, (unlike my elephant totem which I've met on both sides).

I hold that the devil is the invention of patriarchal religions, as is dualistic thinking and the hierarchical paradigm. Goddess inclusive religions tend to see things cyclically: birth, life, death, birth again, mirrored in the seasons of earth. Death isn't evil, it's part of life. We're all capable of good and evil. The Devil is part of a dichotomy that projects evil as one Absolute, the opposite of Good, God. As Jung taught, it's dangerous to project our own dark shadow on to others and as Jesus taught, don't look for the mote in your neighbor's eye unless you remove the plank from your own.

But tomes like the 15th century classic, The Malleus Maleficarum or The Hammer of Witches, written by two Dominican monks as a guide for Inquisitors, are monuments to blind projection and provide ample evidence of the malice, cruelty and misogyny of the medieval Christian Church. In those illustrious times of male bullying, women were leagued with the devil, at least any woman who showed the least bit of spine and independence, owned property that could be taken from her, or just knew too much.

If Woman is maligned by being linked with the devil, the serpent and the apple, the fall from grace, the first one to sin, then no wonder Mary is pissed off and there's a crocodile waiting for me in the bath tub; waiting to talk to me, to teach me.

On Crocodile Friday, I honor the Great Mother and I honor Jesus, her beloved Son. I honor Spring and I honor Dreams. Blessed Be.

Madam President, Sir

To quote Stevie Ray Vaughan in his song Tic Tock, "Last night while sleeping in my bed, I had a beautiful dream."

I'm at the White House, in some elegantly appointed office. I'm talking to a top aid about submitting my candidacy for president of the US. We're discussing the pros and cons; he's encouraging me to do it. I think, "why not?" and sign the index card which is my submission. Next thing I know, I won. I didn't run a campaign; I was just minding my own business at home (the one I live in now) and news comes that I am now President Elect of the US. I'm amazed and deeply aware of what a huge responsibility lays before me. I see my neighbor across the fence and ask her, "Do you believe I'm elected?" She looks at me openly and says, "You're nervous, huh?" Next I'm at a picnic, talking to President Obama. Now that he no longer has to be president, he's wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt and navy shorts; I call him by his first name and ask him many questions about his experience. He's supportive, warm and congenial and answers my questions honestly. I ask him what cabinet position he'd like because I want him on my team.
Maybe this is what I get for poking around in President Lincoln's dream.
http://litadreaming.blogspot.com/2012/02/what-if-lincoln-had-lived-in-dreaming.html
My teaching point from this dream is about the power of dream imagery to re-energize us on a soul level. I was feeling kinda blue, overwhelmed perhaps; waking up with this dream, I can't get the smile off my face. How a dream makes you feel when you wake up is a huge clue to it's message. For me, this is a soul level message: You're elected. You can do it. This is about my soul's purpose. No one explains this function of dreaming better than Robert Moss:

"One of the greatest gifts of dreaming is that it puts us in touch with soul. It takes us beyond the limited understanding of the everyday self and shows us who we are, what our soul’s purpose is in this life experience and what our heart truly yearns for. There is a word for this vital function of dreams in the language of the Huron, a dreaming people of North America. The word is ondinnonk, and it means a "secret wish of the soul", especially as revealed in dreams. This expression takes us to the heart of healing. By connecting with our dreams, and celebrating and acting on the information they gift to us, we bring the energy and magic of soul into our daily lives. As we allow our big dreams to take root in this world, we become whole and well, and start living our deeper story. As we help others to honor and celebrate their soul guidance, as revealed in dreams, we become healers and dreambringers."
(from Dreaming True).

Soul work in dreams doesn't have to manifest sanctimoniously. Humor is a favorite teaching tool of the dream source, something I truly appreciate. My experience working with other people's dreams suggests that it's not just me; dream humor is widespread. (I think divinity without humor is dangerous; following humorless divinity leads to a lot of unnecessary suffering, in my opinion.)

This dream tells me I'm up for the challenge my life is presenting; there are several layers of meaning I can explore in it. Psychologically, I can be president of us, me and all my moods and thoughts and experiences; my ego is strong enough to find the right balance. That's one way to look at it. Or, perhaps I will be asked to take a leadership role of great responsibility in the future. Definitely, it's a dream I'm going to re-enter soon and continue my discussions, especially with Barack. This little dream is a gold mine.

I'm grateful for this kind of support and guidance from my dream life and I offer it as just one wee example of the power of an on-going dream dialogue and practice.

As for me; I'm humming a new tune today:



United States Air Force Band

Flush Rush: A Waking Dream

In my waking dream, a little bald man, something like the Wizard of Oz, has the microphone and is broadcasting the most insane bullshit about a Georgetown University law student, Susan Fluke, who testified before congress about the importance of insurance assistance for obtaining safe birth control for a college/graduate school woman student. This man behind the curtain suggested that this student should have to submit sex tapes of herself so that taxpayers like himself can watch and get something out of the exchange.

Knowing how to handle icky dreams:

First, I throw up, preferably on his shoes, because it’s such a visceral shock to my system that a media figure with his outreach should advocate this criminal intent toward a young woman; (remember, our nation is currently watching the results of such an awful invasion of privacy, something that was intended as a joke, in the Rutgers students’ trial).

Second, I ask, what will women say about this stupid ass comment? Will they say, "Enough! Who are you to legislate my sexuality?" While Viagra and Cialis are constantly promoted, religious farts are arguing about my right to use birth control, let alone have a safe and legal abortion? Who died and left them in charge? What century is this?

In my waking dream, women don’t allow such idiocy, such harmful idiocy, to go unaddressed. Like the backlash incurred when the Komen Foundation cut financial support of Planned Parenthood, there’s a tidal wave of response from women and men who value mutual respect, partnership and equal rights for women. Everyone is saying; “Enough. I will not support a party politically who calls this entertainment nor will I endorse this entertainer. His slander affects not only Ms. Fluke, but also my daughter, my niece, my friend’s daughters.

Ms.Fluke is an accomplished law student willing to make an intelligent public statement on this important issue, the right of any woman to have safe, affordable access to birth control. I can’t believe this is still an issue! Limbaugh's base approach to this young woman, to this issue and to his women listeners is so unacceptable to the majority of Americans, in my waking dream, that he loses his show and has to move to Afghanistan and join the Taliban where he once again can feel appreciated for his views on women.

Measured against this young woman’s commitment, vision and intelligence, Rush Limbaugh sounds like a seismic jerk. He obviously owes her an apology, but he also owes every woman an apology. I hope he doesn’t have daughters, or is he the kind of patriarchal guy Lot was when he said to the angry mob outside his house, “No don’t harm these male guests; harm my daughters instead”.

In my dream, American women and American men get up and say to the presumptuous males who hold a hearing on contraception and do not allow Fluke or any other woman’s input, “Here’s your pink slip”.

In my dream, every time I and every other woman or girl using toilets flush, we say: Flush, Rush. Now I don’t mean him personally; I mean what he represents: The old back room boy, the in-with-the-big-boy boys, and the patriarchal women haters. I flush that ideology. I reject that behavior. And I am speaking out against it.

Pretty soon, we can get rid of crap like this. I suppose we just need to give a shit.

Remember what Yeats predicted:

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

It doesn’t have to be like this, that’s my waking dream.

Sexual Healing Dreams, Ode to Spring

I sometimes refer to myself as Pagan, (which comes from a lovely Latin word for person of the earth, or country). Pagans recognize Feminine, as well as, Masculine divinities. Feb 2nd, now affectionately known as “Ground Hog Day” was once the pagan celebration of Spring. Imbolc, as this holiday is known in Celtic traditions, is dedicated to Spring and the Goddess/Creatrix, Brigid. Brigid is patroness of many things, among them, art in all its manifestations. She is the fire of creativity deep within our souls. “Imbolc” means, “fire in the belly”. It’s the official pagan beginning of Spring.

This year in the NE, it’s easy to believe Spring is here; years like last, it was more of a leap of faith. But even with snow on the ground, country people recognized that seeds are waking up under ground, the sap is flowing in the maples and animals are getting frisky. It’s no surprise that February has a Valentine’s day, a celebration of erotic love. According to Wikipedia, the month’s name derives from Februa, a Roman Spring purification ritual performed on the February full moon. Wiki also says; “Some sources connect the Latin word for fever (febris)…” To me Spring and February connote libido in all its glorious manifestations, erotic and creative, heating up existence, as in "you give me fever".

Taking advantage of this fire in Nature’s belly I’d like to wax poetic about one of my favorite topics, sex in dreams. The delicate or faint hearted among you may want to stop reading here.

I’m of the opinion that when women aren’t having happy orgasms, they get grumpy or depressed. I’d say it’s that way for me and for many of the women with whom I’ve discussed this, (the same may be true for men; I don’t know). I define “happy orgasm” as an orgasmic experience that leaves me feeling good about myself and, if I’m with a partner, good about that person, too.

I wonder how many people feel deprived of such joy and release in life; and I wonder how different it might be for many if the sexual pleasure dreams offer were to be accepted and explored. I know this is a touchy subject :-), but there is such potential for healing here. It’s a personal healing that doesn’t need to be shared with anyone; it’s kind of like what happens in Vegas...this is the dream world (or worlds). I can experience things on different levels of reality, differently.

Without guilt, for one. One of my favorite jokes is; religion is guilt with different holidays. If I can fly, breathe under water, walk through walls and experience the Light in dreams, then why should I deny a good orgasm when I’m offered it?

Each person has his or her sexual paradigm founded on many personal conscious and unconscious factors, but our cultural paradigm is a shared, consensus reality. Let’s face it, sexual paradigms in our culture suck. There’s extreme repression in the religious/moral camp and extreme exploitation in the sex sells consumer camp.

In dreams we're offered alternate scenarios; our dreams may offer a playground for sexual healing and release that is completely personal, private and the safest of safe sex.

As Dorothy Sayers famously said, “The only sin passion can commit is to be joyless.”

In dreams, we can be safe, be loved and be free of material world consequences. One caution, I would never submit to any entity or any character in a dream state that is asking me to do what I don’t want to do. But if a fun opportunity presents itself, I feel free to explore it.

How each woman gets her happy orgasm is her business; I am here to say that for young and old alike, never underestimate the power of a dream to get us over that rainbow not just once, in the dream, but in countless private re-entry sessions, (like the fantasy script one could use while one makes love to oneself). It’s easier to be a good lover to another if we’ve embraced our own sexuality.

I don’t mean sexiness; I’m saddened by the epidemic of insecurity and uniformity I see in many women trying to replicate cultural icons. I am very excited, though, by many young women who are taking their lives and talents into their own hands, despite social pressures, like Adele.

Dream orgasms may freak some people out. Maybe, in your dream, you were making love to the pope or somebody else totally inappropriate. (OMG, I just thought of a fabulous reference to this that I read many years ago,a short story titled, "Pope Innocent XV: Scenes from a Dream" by Rose Solomon in the wonderful anthology, "Ladies Home Erotica")

There are plenty of ways to ponder erotic dreams that can prove very healing.

First, of course, eliminate from the erotic category any dream that is a replay of a traumatic waking event, a Post Traumatic Stress Dream. No dream with waking reality traumatic, repetitive content should be handled lightly, and best not alone. A trained therapist with dream experience should be able to offer the guidance necessary to use such dreams for healing.

That said, if it’s my sexy dream, I’d ask myself these questions: “How do I feel waking up and in my dream? What do I like about this dream lover, setting, action, image? Am I witnessing a relationship in another life, past or future, or on another level of reality? Is there dream content about unconscious feelings I might wish to address compassionately with myself? Do I want to call an ally and re-enter in a conscious dream to dialogue, get information or experiment with other outcomes? Is this dream a ten on the level of my favorite sexual fantasies?

It’s always important to assess how you feel; is the story disturbing, titillating, horrifying or absolutely pleasurable, even if it’s weird and freaks my ego out?

I admit, I prefer the uncomplicated sexual dreams that feel just plain good, like when Eric Clapton and I had a lovely affair while he was here giving guitar lessons to Jim. (Shortly after I dreamed this, Clapton’s yacht, the Blue Guitar, anchored outside of Charles Island, CT, probably on his way back from visiting Keith. A musician friend rang our bell early that morning to tell us it was there and we marched to the beach, just feet away, with binoculars. What are the chances of an Eric citing if you don’t live next door to him?).

I especially value my dreams of a lover that is a stranger, a person clearly in another dimension, a parallel reality. In my dream, I meet him and get to know him; the fire heats up between us. I can enjoy that dream adventure to the (cli)max; yet still, transfer that energy, that positive feeling, into my waking dimension on this material plane. When my dreams grant me such pleasure, whoooo, baby, I can use those scenarios for years. Lucky for me, new ones come along frequently enough, keeping it always fresh.

All I’m saying is, why suffer in misery when you can look to your dreams for a little excitement? As many have heard me say, it’s the safest sex there is. Keeping a journal ensures that you’ll always have access to your own best material. And who knows, dreams might help you write the next great bodice ripper. Hmmmm, now there’s a thought.

Happy dreams, my friends.

This sensational nude, fittingly titled "Dreaming" is painted by award winning pastel artist, Mally DeSomma
http://www.finelineartgallery-connecticut.com/mdesomma.htm or
http://mdesomma.com/

What if Lincoln Had Lived in a Dreaming Society?

Coming up, just after Valentine's, is President Lincoln's Bday. One of my favorite dream stories from history is that Lincoln had a precognitive dream about his assassination ten days before he was assasinated. Here's the account told by his friend and bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon. (taken from Lehrman Institute website)

"In the last month of his life, Mr. Lincoln had several strange dreams, one of which he related to his wife and Ward Hill Lamon shortly before he was assassinated: "About ten days ago I retired very late. I had been up waiting for important dispatches from the front. I could not have been long in bed when I fell into a slumber, for I was weary. I soon began to dream. There seemed to be a death-like stillness about me. Then I heard subdued sobs, as if a number of people were weeping. I thought I left my bed and wandered downstairs. There the silence was broken by the same pitiful sobbing, but the mourners were invisible. I went from room to room; no living person was in sight, but the same mournful sounds of distress met me as I passed along. It was light in all the rooms; every object was familiar to me; but where were all the people who were grieving as if their hearts would break? I was puzzled and alarmed. What could be the meaning of all this? Determined to find the cause of a state of things so mysterious and so shocking, I kept on until I arrived at the East Room, which I entered. There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque, on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; and there was a throng of people, some gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered, others weeping pitifully, 'Who is dead in the White House?' I demanded of one of the soldiers. 'The President,' was his answer; 'he was killed by an assassin!' Then came a loud burst of grief from the crowd. I slept no more that night; and although it was only a dream, I have been strangely annoyed by it ever since." " Mrs. Lincoln was shocked by the story: "That is horrid! I wish you had not told it."

I ask myself, "What if Lincoln had lived in a dreaming society? What if I am president and this is my dream?"

I wake up in a sweat and say, "Holy Shit. This is serious." I calm down, take slow, deep in the belly breaths, I tell myself to calm, focus. I thank the dream source for this warning. When I feel ready, I re-enter the dream in a conscious, twilight state so I can ask some questions. I see myself before the catafalque facing the soldier who just gave me the news. I say, I am your president, tell me everything that has happened here. I engage that character until I've gotten all I can, then I turn to myself in the coffin and say, "Abe, what happened, tell me everything." After that, I raise the alarm; get all the guards organized and put everyone on the alert that an attack on the president's life is imminent"

Now, I'm ready to take action in waking life. I rouse Mary and summon Ward. Sitting at the table with tea, I share my dream with my dear, clairvoyant wife and my trusted friend. I see fear in Mary's eyes turn to resolve. She'll dream on this, too, she tells me, and consult her dream group now. Ward has summoned all the Captains of the Guard for an emergency briefing.

Indeed, the alert works. Instead of low security at the theater, the security is covert and intense. JWB is recognized as an intruder, arrested for drunken vagrancy, and kept a few days in the tank. After his hangover wears off, that moment in time is over, he gives up his lunatic ways and goes home.

This is my dream of President Lincoln's dream.

If only he hadn't said, it's only a dream. If only Mary had recognized the jolt of power in that dream instead of cringing before a possible nasty patch. If only Ward had said, so reality check, Abe. What feels most real to you about this dream? What did you find out when you went in? You've got my word I'll put together the guard, see that they all hear the dream and are on the alert. This dream's a gift, Abe.

If only Abe had lived in a dream sophisticated society. I can't help but wonder.

The Art of Dream Sharing

There are few activities more pleasurable to me than teaching anyone who wants to learn about creating a dream dialogue in their lives and taking it to the level of a spiritual practice. Often a student raises an issue that I want to write about here.

One aspect of Active Dreaming is honoring the dream. Robert's work with indigenous American cultures led him to incorporate this practice in his teaching. It means doing something actively, perhaps creatively, to manifest the energy of the dream in waking reality, thereby respecting the dream dialogue the way one might respects a wise friend's advice.

An obvious thought might be that if I dream of a person I know, I might share that dream with them as a way to honor my dream, right? Yes, but not without a caveat or two.

The art of dream sharing is a delicate matter that needs discernment; I believe it shouldn't be done as a matter of course, for several reasons:

Dreams need digestion. Writing them down paints a picture that evolves as I contemplate it. Unless the dream is uber funny and I know my friend will enjoy the laugh, I don't share it right away.

I want to know what it means to me first. I start, as Robert suggests, with the emotional tone of the dream; how do I feel waking up and how does my dream self feel?

I ask myself when I dream of another,is this the actual person or some aspect or idea about that person that applies to me at the moment? I might want to re-enter the dream, consciously, like a daydream, and talk to that person I recognize and see what they have to say to me. This might help me determine whether I share the dream with the person in waking.

Some dreams can have a negative transference effect when shared, even unintentionally. If in your dream, I'm upset about my hair falling out and you tell me this dream, I might think that cancer treatments cause your hair to fall out. I might worry that I have cancer, unless I'm in touch with my dreams and already have a good handle on what I need to know about my health. If this didn't occur to you before sharing your dream, you really didn't ponder it enough.

It's so easy to project ideas on to others, especially when conveyed in the language of dreams, images. Images stick with you (just ask Madison Ave) and unexplored negative images tend to be icky-sticky, the stuff of icky dreams. I've written a couple of times about how to work with these, so suffice it to say that images of this nature require exploration by the dreamer.

Dreams are in the service of health and healing. Any dream I do consider after pondering may convey a warning about another person's well-being requires me to use great judgment. Is my sharing this with them going to prove helpful to them or cause them anxiety? How can I best help if I feel I should? I may decide to incubate another dream for clarification of what I can do. Perhaps I'll be watchful for an opportunity to present to the person, not necessarily the dream imagery, but some support or suggestions that can be useful and positive. (There's another tool in Active Dreaming called Dream Transference; it's a powerful way to help people deal with difficulties using dream images. I'll save a more detailed description for another post.)

If I don't feel a dream will be immediately helpful, I record it so I have the fresh account, but I don't share it until I feel it can help. And, if I am sharing a dream health warning with another person or if a person shares a dream I suspect may carry one, I'm extremely delicate about probing this possible meaning. I might gently suggest, "If it's my dream, I'd wonder why I'm losing hair. Is this a transition I'm going through? I think I'd like to re-enter my dream and speak with my dream self about what's going on." I would not necessarily bring up cancer and hair loss. I trust a person's intuition to arrive at the conclusion they need from their own consideration of the dream.

Another possibility when I dream of a person I know is that this dream character presages a person I'm going to meet in future waking reality that reminds me of the person I'm dreaming about. Or, perhaps as I've been pondering with you in previous posts, it's an experience I'm having with this person on another level of reality or in the dream reality. In that case, I may want to pursue the relationship on that plane and not necessarily seek to manifest it on this one, unless synchronicity makes it so.

There is nothing wrong with sharing dreams with someone. My husband and I star in each other's dreams regularly and share our dreams often; I choose which dreams I'll share and to what extent, as I'm sure he does, too. I know of dreamers who have shared a dream that meant nothing to them with a colleague or acquaintance they've dreamed about and the dream has carried great meaning for that person in waking. Some message may indeed come through in a timely and beneficial way; we often know through our own intuition when to tell someone a dream. Still, there is a dream diplomacy, an art to sharing and co-working with dreams. That's why I teach and write about Active Dreaming; it has some of the most valuable tools for playing with and honoring dreams individually or with others that I know. I'm blessed to have the opportunity to do this and lucky when a student helps me teach.

(This beautiful photograph was taken by my dear friend, Nancy Hammett, on her visit to the Grand Canyon recently and used with her permission. It's an amazing waking dream scape and I couldn't wait to share it on my blog. Here's a link to her NIA studio:
http://www.soundmindandbodyct.com/)