Clive Matson writes from an itch in his body

Dream One

November 13th, 2009 | Posted by clive in Uncategorized

111309-120209I dreamt I was walking with a striking redhead, six feet tall, to a Shakespeare play. The show was in a huge enclosed coliseum. People were milling about and tension hung in the air. There was a palpable, fearful rumor that lions were part of the performance.

Peering through the crowd I saw two lions standing together, old lions, not too scary. Between me and the lions was my older brother. He moved at a tilt, staggering as if something had happened that was more than he could handle, and he didn’t recognize me. The lions looked peaceful enough, and as we got closer I saw a young lion next to the older ones.

This animal’s aura different: it was wild and untamed.

The performance was not about to start. The floor was dirt, and my companion and I were drawn to a hut at the far corner of the coliseum. Inside a heavy brick and cement wall and primitive doorway were two rooms, one bare, and a sense of familiarity came over me. In the dream I remembered this was a place I had lived, on Sixth Street in West Berkeley, with quite low ceilings. That house was titled. The floor in the dream was even more steeply tilted. We went up into the second room, and there was a single bed with a stew of bedclothes. I knew this was my bed.

And the rooms were the lions’ den. We were invading their territory, but I felt welcome. This bed was where I wrote my poems and dreamed my dreams. We poked our heads through an opening in the far wall of the room. It looked out on the performance area and the lions were directly in sight. Fear washed through me.

The opening was rimmed with a sort of animal skin, three-inch long hairs in a rim of fur. As I poked my head through I felt wonder along with fear. The lions knew I was there. The opening was like a vagina, the source of life, open into the world.

Chalcedony (Kal-SAID-en-ee) would be familiar with this territory. She would find some harmony with the lions. If lions guard the portal to the treasures of the unconscious, we need to make friends with them. We need to do whatever penance allows us to enter those energetic places.

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