Wednesday, October 10, 2012

mountain lion and fall light (from an email to aimee on wednesday at 7:57 am on 10-10, waning moon)

got food poisoning on monday, still feel wacked a bit from it. my friend is getting prepped to be shortlisted on the heart transplant list, helping her, trying to remember to pray from my gratitude and presence  instead of worry from my place of fear. had a weird dream last night i was talking to her and she was giving all her money to help bury others in her family. her family was being meaner than usual (which is a feat), and i roared and made a sound that was almost inhuman and very relieving (stress relief through roaring in a dream, thank you lion people, thank you cougar people)...

in the dream, the sound comes out of my whole being, verberant. true. i open my mouth and the mountain lion starts (now, a siren in the distance coming closer can’t touch it). it goes on and on, as if though mountain is in me, and i am just a tube a pipe organ of gruff shimmer loud rage. in the dream i worry will this hurt my friend this loud sound that goes on and on longer than breath could last. she looks present but unafeared. in the dream others are more present, less reactive. finally the sound coming through me ends, and my fibers and cells feel relieved. 

in the dream i decline war reminiscence with a uniformed man who wants to smoke a cigar together (?? I think I might have been a vet in the dream) and i am hanging out with a memoir writing group my recuperating friend is it turns out actually leading in some kind of hospital/hospice/care home. i don't know how to walk in the careful helpful orderly way they are, i don't open the door for the next person far enough then do but the wrong way too far. i don't fit here. i move too quickly, thinking to slip through. there is no slipping through here where everyone has falcon eyes and attends with care. someone makes a randy joke and light laughter ripples. this is a group in tune. i am in the center but in the outs. they belong through becoming a larger being. i skid past. the light is coming slantwise, fall light, through the windows to the left.

what i remember, beside roaring, is the sadness, and the light.  

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