Robert Moss on Dreaming
Listened to Robert Moss last night on Coast to Coast. Moss is author of many books on dreaming. As readers of The Orange Orb know, I am fascinated by dreams. I had not heard of Moss before, but after listening to the interview last night I have ordered his recent book.
Moss suggested setting intentions for your dreaming journey. I have many themes going on in my subconscious -- one thing I dream about a lot are animals. For example, this is a mail art card I created recently and sent out:
Did I dream of a giant snail? And if so, what did I tell it?“I’m going back to sleep” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I need to find out what I said to the snail.”
MAIL ART by R. Lee 2020
I set an intention last about my cat. I made up a little mantra: 'Manifest Mango Mind Meld.' Asking what Mango wants me to know. (He is fourteen and has been having trouble with his back legs.)
Nothing there. But I did have the following dream:
Regan Lee, Fairy Killer
The curtain opens, revealing a kitchen set. My back is to the audience. I am wearing a white shirt, dark brown palazzo style pants that are short; the stop at the knees. A wide belt that holds a few daggers.
I am looking quickly through the cupboards, on the counters. Now and then I spin around and look off to the sides, then go back to what I was doing. This goes on for about thirty seconds. Then I turn around, and face the audience. I go into a monologue. I talk about what I do, which is hunt fairies. "Oh, don't be fooled," I say, "these little glittery fairies, with their pink and violet and transparent wings and tiny sweet bodies are full of it. They are not to be trusted. They are often invisible, and are out to trick you. They are dangerous."
I show off my daggers. I assure the audience I know how to handle them. There's a slight comedic air about the whole thing though. A dagger accidentally slips from my hands and lands a fairy -- it goes "Squeak! Ack!" and dies. I say, "Oops, well, sometimes . . ." everyone laughs.
When my monologue is over, I leave the stage. End of Scene 1. Applause. They love me! Backstage, everyone tells me how great I was. "You're a really good actress," they say.
I feel great.
Robert Moss said to check in with how you feel about the dream. The dream could be about anything, and for one person, that dream could be a nightmare, for someone else, it could be healing. My dream of being an actress and a fairy killer was a good dream, as weird as that may sound. I woke up feeling fantastic. Empowered.
The Kitchen Fairy
Jim and I often say we have a kitchen fairy. We're not joking. This house has always had a slight other-presence vibe to it, especially when we first bought the place twenty-five years ago. The house was built in 1927. To this day, things go missing in the kitchen, only to be found in the weirdest places in the kitchen. There are only the two of us here (and Mango!) and neither one of us is a prankster kind of person. I've never had a negative feeling from this kitchen energy, but not a super helpful friendly one either. Maybe it just is, and wants our attention. I don't know if this kitchen fairy of ours has anything to do with last night's dream, but I don't think it does. Just the feeling I have about it.
Fairies, Animals and The Stage
I also dream often of being on stage. Of performing, sometimes signing which is funny since I can't sing at all. I wish I could, that's one of my fantasies, that I am one hell of an amazing singer. I come from circus folk (literally) and a family involved with acting. I was a theater major at one time.
Last night, before I settled on my Mango intention, I was bouncing around with ideas. So many dream themes and landscapes and questions! For awhile I was thinking about animals; why do I dream of animals so much, big cats but all kinds as well? And why do I dream of my performing on stage, and in circus like traveling groups, often with Jim, and often taking place hundreds of years ago? One powerful dream I had of us both as performers in Western Europe has both of us intuitively knowing that it had to do with a past life.
Last night, I'm on stage, talking not about animals but fairies, which are not human, not animal. Something else, an other. I am banishing them. I see them for what they are. And yet it's a performance.
I was acting. And yet, on the stage, it felt real. I was really sincere about the fairies, and the fairies that appeared on the stage were real. At this point, all I can say is reality beyond, or behind, another reality, that seems like a cover or not real, but is, even while being presented as "only acting."