wishing you magical moments in 2010...

In blissful dream, 

in silent night, 

There came to me, 

with magic might, 

With magic might, 

my own sweet love, 

Into my little room above.

from the gods...

a dream, too, is from zeus...

THINKING OF YOU...

as we each journey into a new year,
thank you for traveling along with me -

wishing you peace love and passion -

jenean

first a dream...

Nothing

happens

unless 

first

a

dream.

the two roads of south africa...

If there are dreams 

about a beautiful South Africa, 

there are also roads 

that lead to their goal. 

Two of these roads 

could be named 

Goodness

and 

Forgiveness.

dear friends -

just to let you know, as my little campfires in blogland bear witness, the past week or so has found me distracted and sidetracked with the ups and downs of familial and other issues which have taken me from my usual time and energies on my own blogs and those of dear friends such as you -  in addition, i'm working on a couple of LARGE art pieces with imminent deadlines -

so please forgive my seemingly "irreverent" attention here and know that my lack of regular postings and comments in no way reflects anything except that which it is - peripheral things to which i must attend for a couple of weeks -

but i'll be back and forth as i can so please check over at my places at your leisure, as i, of course, will yours!  and, as always, i'll be thinking of you and yours with much affection - jenean

Anais Nin's motto...

proceed from the dream outward

purple haze...

To unpathed waters, 

undreamed shores.

the icy night of my spirit...

“Yes, I now feel that it was then 

on that evening of sweet dreams- 

that the very first dawn of 

human love burst upon 

the icy night of my spirit. 

Since that period 

I have never seen 

nor heard your name 

without a shiver 

half of delight, 

half of anxiety.”

the color of my mind...

I have dreamed in my life, 

dreams that have 

stayed with me ever after, 

and changed my ideas; 

they have gone through 

and through me, 

like wine through water, 

and altered the 

color of my mind.

i dream...

i don't dream 
at night

i dream 
all day

i dream for

a living...

the musical dreams of musicians...

musicians dream of music more than twice with respect to non-musicians -

musical dreams frequency is related to the age of commencement of musical instruction, but not to the daily load of musical activity -

nearly half of the recalled music was non-standard,

suggesting that original music can be created in dreams -

the illustrated book...

dreams

are illustrations

from the book

your soul is writing

about you

the creations...

Our dreams are firsthand creations,

rather than residues of waking life.

the lover's dream...

 

do i love you

because you're beautiful

or are you beautiful

because i love you?

am i making believe

i see in you

a woman too perfect

to be really true?

do i want you

because you're wonderful

or are you wonderful

because i want you?

are you the sweet invention

of a lover's dream

or are you really as

beautiful as you seem?

the dreams of cinema...

“Talking about dreams
is like talking about movies,
since the cinema uses
the language of dreams;
years can pass in a second
and you can hop
from one place to another.
It’s a language made of image.
And in the real cinema,
every object and
every light means something,
as in a dream.”

the bird...

Hold

fast

to

dreams, 

for

if 

dreams

die, 

life

is a 

broken

winged

bird 

that

cannot

fly.

the boundary...

Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide

our

being...

echo...

Come to me in the silence of the night;

Come in the sparkling silence of a dream;

Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright

As sunlight on a stream;

Come back in tears,

O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,

Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,

Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;

Where thirsting longing eyes

Watch the slow door

That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live

My very life again though cold in death:

Come back to me in dreams, that I may give

Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:

Speak low, lean low,

As long ago, my love, how long ago.

the identity...

there is a moment upon just 

waking up from a dream 

when you experience 

a startling shift in perspective; 

in that moment you realize that 

the life you were most recently leading - 

the life in your dream - 

was merely a product of your imagination - 

in this transition period your return 

to the waking world often seems 

like the termination of an illusion...

awakening from a lucid dream 

can be just as startling...

because the conscious realization

that you are dreaming does not 

dilute the power of your 

dream identity at all.

the awakening...

She entered the story knowing 

she would emerge from it 

feeling she had been 

immersed in the lives of others, 

in plots that stretched back twenty years, 

her body full of sentences and moments, 

as if awakening from sleep 

with a heaviness caused by 

unremembered dreams.

the illusion...

What is life? 

A madness. 

What is life? 

An illusion, 

a shadow, 

a story. 

And the 

greatest good 

is little enough; 

for all 

life is a dream, 

and dreams themselves 

are only dreams.

of webs and walls...

talking

talking

spinning 

a web of words, 

pale walls of dreams, 

between myself

and 

all

i

see

this bag of dreams...

Take, 

if you must, 

this little bag of dreams, 

Unloose the cord, 

and 

they will wrap you round.

golden slumbers - what could be more beautiful! enjoy!

life is a sleep...

Our revels now are ended. 

These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, 

the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, 

the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. 

We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; 

and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

dreams of the sea...

i came here

to tell of the bells

that live in the sea

that dream of the sea

within the sea

thus

i live here

the answers...

dreams are 

today's answers

to tomorrow's questions -

my home waits...in dreams...

What 

I want to do 

is travel 

deep and deeper 

into the dreamlands, 

to find that place 

that I know 

is waiting

for me here. 

My home.

true dreams live...

Dreams

are true 

while they last 
and

do we not 

live

in 

dreams?

a dream deferred...

What happens to a  

dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun.....
......Or does it

explode?

Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet LXXXl:

“And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
 

No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.”

the secret spot...

"Within 

your heart, 

keep one still, 

secret spot 

where 

dreams 

may go."

lie in blackness...

Channels 

are blocked in the mind, 

from the day.  

Lie down 

in blackness of night,

forgotten remnants 

rush to the mind, 

or 

creeping slowly 

appear 

in the

dreams.

the divided world...

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams--
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.

dark dreams from poe...

Deep into that darkness peering, 

long I stood there, 

wondering, 

fearing, 

doubting, 

dreaming dreams 

no mortal 

ever dared 

to dream 

before.

poppy field dream...

Once in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed,
And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

we dream to be together...

“I think 
we 
dream 

so we 
do
not
have 

to be 
apart
so long.
If we’re
in 
each
other’s
dreams, 

we 
can 
play 

together
all
night.”

tread softly on my dreams...

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly 

because 

you 

tread on my dreams.

the dream warrior - my own lucid dream experience

in 1995 i went to the twin eagles pow wow in shreveport - it was the first one i had attended and my friend and i decided to go on opening day, taking along my twin granddaughters [aged 7] -

two nights before the pow wow, i had a very very vividly intense lucid dream - in my dream, which i realized to be a dream as i dreamed, i found myself in a completely pure white room - a single room with the white so bright as to be unimaginable - a pure unadulterated radiant white - in this room were several older women who were seated - no words were spoken but i knew that they were telling me that they were there to help me somehow - i can still see the cluster of them today, sitting with their long black hair the only real color in the room - they told me there was someone i needed to meet - and they were sending him to me - and through an opening in the room walked a very tall muscular man in native american regalia - he also verbalized nothing as he walked toward me - he was wearing a large plumed headband and dressed in solid white - i remember observing me from behind as i stood in the room - as he got closer to me, i awoke - and i remember watching him come closer toward me - as he got directly in front of me, i awoke -

the dream was one of those that leaves you overwhelmed with its intensity - wondering of its meaning - and feeling as if it were an actual "real" experience rather than a "dream" - i told my friend about it later that day and we laughed about it even, about the tall dark indian warrior coming to me in my dreams -

the day of the pow wow i gathered up my little granddaughters, picked up my friend and we drove to the pow wow at the shreveport fair grounds, and the huge arena in which it was being held - the crowd was enormous but we were able to get seats right on the second row from the front - perfect seats - the grand parade began with the marching out of different tribal representatives in full regalia - there were several sets of drummers chanting beating - the air was electrified - i heard nothing but the drums and the chants and the rhythm of it all - of the drums the voices the feet pounding the dirt floor - and a feeling of i don't know what came over me - a feeling of "coming home" - of having "been away" for a very very long time - a feeling of pure love - a feeling at the same time of absolute and total grief - i mean, pure unadulterated absolute "grief" - and i began to sob - i don't mean that i shed a few tears - i mean that i sobbed as if there had been a death - the sobs racked my body - they overtook my soul - my being - i was aware of people around me turning to look at me - some of them even smiled knowingly - when finally i could control the sobbing, or it stopped of its own accord, actually, i knew that something inexplicable had just happened to me but knew not what - and then, a single dancer - a kiowa - was announced - and out onto the dirt floor walked the native man who had come to me in my dream - the man in the white regalia with the beautiful headpiece - and as he danced, he danced toward me, looking at me as his feet struck the sand with each beat - i was transfixed in that moment and could do nothing but absorb the totality of those moments in time -

after several more dancers had performed, someone took my hand for me to come with them to the arena floor to join the dance/the drum - i don't remember the person - and we left out seats, my granddaughters, my friend and i, and went out onto the dirt floor where we joined hands with dancers and others and danced around the arena in unison, as one entity, to the beat the rhythm of the drums and the cries of the chants - a moment of pure beauty and love -

after the pow wow was over, we tried to find this man - this dream warrior - but unsuccessfully - he was not to be found -

but i could not lose the reality of the dream or of the elder women or of this man - and several days later i contacted someone whom i knew to be associated with the shreveport twin eagles group [but whom i'd never met] - we met for lunch the next day and i told him my dream story and the story of my reaction at the pow wow - the sobbing and the associated feelings - the grief and coming home and of peace and love - and he listened to me, his eyes never leaving my face, his long silver hair below his shoulders, with his hands out on the table toward mine - and he told me that the man in my dreams was dennis zotigh, a kiowa from oklahoma and that he, himself, had personally chosen dennis to dance at this pow wow - that dennis is a known "messenger" and that i had been chosen to receive the message this time - there was something for me to learn - a journey to be had - and then he asked me to join the twin eagles group, which i did -

i stayed a member for several years - and did contact dennis but did not receive a response - much to my dismay - however, it could be that he simply never received my email message as he tours constantly - whatever the reason, though, i have not communicated directly with him but he remains a part of my life in many ways -

and so - this is my story of the women elders and the native man who came to me in my dream -

the dream devil in music...

the story behind the composer, giuseppe tartini's 1692–1770, "devil trill" starts with a dream where the devil is said to have appeared to tartini and asked him to be his servant - after their lessons, tartini handed the devil his violin to test his skill—the devil immediately began to play with such virtuosity that tartini felt his breath taken away - when the tartini awoke he immediately jotted down the sonata, desperately trying to recapture what he had heard in the dream - despite the sonata being successful with his audiences, tartini lamented that the piece was still far from what he had heard in his dream - what he had written was, in his own words: "so inferior to what i had heard, that if i could have subsisted on other means, i would have broken my violin and abandoned music forever."

the noise of consciousness...

It is on the whole

probably that 

we continually dream, 

but that 

consciousness 

makes such a noise 

that we 

do not hear it.

the navigator...

Dreams
will show you
where you are
and
where you are going.
They
reveal
your
destiny.

visions and dreams...

It is only by introducing the young
to great literature, drama and music
and to the excitement of
great science
that we open to them the possibilities
that lie within the human spirit
enable them
to see
visions
and
dream
dreams

Eric Anderson

truest life...

our truest life
is when
we are
in dreams
awake

in the arms of wonder...

not
all
lucid dreams
are useful
but they all have a
sense of wonder
about them -
if you must sleep
through a
third of your life
why should you
sleep
through
your
dreams
too?

dream land...

Where sunless rivers weep

Their waves into the deep,

She sleeps a charmed sleep:

Awake her not.

Led by a single star,

She came from very far

To seek where shadows are

Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,

She left the fields of corn,

For twilight cold and lorn

And water springs.

Through sleep, as through a veil,

She sees the sky look pale,

And hears the nightingale

That sadly sings.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest

Shed over brow and breast;

Her face is toward the west,

The purple land.

She cannot see the grain

Ripening on hill and plain;

She cannot feel the rain

Upon her hand.

Rest, rest, for evermore

Upon a mossy shore;

Rest, rest at the heart's core

Till time shall cease:

Sleep that no pain shall wake;

Night that no morn shall break

Till joy shall overtake

Her perfect peace.