Monday, January 3, 2011
I bought a dream catcher at the American Indian museum on New Year's Day, thinking that it was a fitting way to launch 2011. I hoped it would bring some fabulous dreams my way and also that it would filter the nightmares, send them packing. I bought the dream catcher in the wake of a realization that some of my favorite daydreams, imaginings I have entertained for many years, have recently evaporated. What is up with that? I was also hoping to curtail dream input from Betty Louise, the houseghost who thinks I am So Very Interesting, especially at night when I'm trying to sleep.
After awful dreams from the night of January 1st, I wondered if I'd hung the dream catcher backwards. Before I went to sleep last night, I shook it the way you might shake a mechanical device, I flicked it with my thumb and first finger, hoping to kick it into gear. I spoke to it, very respectfully. Then I turned it around and hung it again.
No such luck. More horrible dreams last night. Maybe I'm investing too much hope in the dream catcher, ya think? I've also sage-smudged my bedroom, burned sweetgrass, spritzed the room with lovely scents, turned all the lights on, turned all the lights off, blasted the room and bed, and my own head, with Reiki.
I mentioned this bout of nightmares to the Sufi acupuncturist who did a treatment that is specifically designed to eliminate the feeling of being spooked. It hurt like hell, but did not work. Hmmm...
This morning my strategy revolves around hope - I'm hoping tomorrow's solar eclipse will clear the bad dream energy. Not quite sure what else to do - I mean, I have to sleep, right?