Between 5:30 & 6:00:
I’m aware of a very special friend come to visit me before sunrise. I’m up, out of bed, very happy to see her. As I walk down an unlit corridor of my home, I suddenly see Sara G sitting in a dark corner. Sara? Sara! She’s wearing a hat, as she often did, and perhaps an elegant long-sleeved white shirt over a long skirt, dressed as eclectically as she did when she was alive. I’m surprised to see her; it’s been a long time since we even spoke, and I wonder, now, how I could have let so much time pass before calling her; before checking on her. (In the dream, I don’t remember that she’s dead.) But it’s totally wonderful that she’s come to see me of her own accord, that she just decided to show up, and I’m filled with happiness as we slip arms around each others waists and continue walking hip-to-hip down the corridor. I ask her what she’s been up to and receive a communication about a job she’s been given. She’s been working, in her condition? No matter, she seems in perfect health and we’re together and it’s a good thing that she’s got a job she doesn’t seem to mind. (I woke feeling it has something to do with me and my growing “dream walking” abilities.)
My cup is running over this morning—my two best friends suddenly showing up for a visit! It’s unfortunate they arrived before sunrise because it means that if X planned to LD this morning, I won’t be asleep and able to meet him. I’m thinking this as Sara and my other unseen friend, who is nothing more than a presence, enter a more well lit space that feels public, like a cross between a post office and the glass & metal walls of a small airport. X is there. He looks wide awake because of some pressing situation that has come up at work. He speaks to me but he can’t stay; he has to get to work to deal with the issue. I watch him go relieved to know he was also awoken early so that my friends arriving and waking me before sunrise didn’t disrupt a possible shared dream.
I’m walking side-by-side with Sara again. She is completely present and smiling at me happily, and yet also perhaps a touch ruefully, as I tell her eagerly, wondering why on earth I didn’t make this invitation before, “There are countless rooms in my house, it’s vast, endless, it really is! Later we’ll go exploring and you can choose whichever room you like and you can stay there whenever you come to visit me!” implying there won’t be any reason for her not to come much more often if she can stay in a luxurious beautiful guest room of her own choosing. This sense of living in a vast, endless house is a recurring dream of mine, and combined with Sara’s presence I’m filled with so much joy and excitement I can scarcely contain myself. I sense a very specific area to this house, a door or gateway leading into even deeper levels of my already magnificent home, and I want very much to make sure it’s really there and explore it, once and for all. But Sara and my other friend and I are planning an outing first and so it will have to wait until evening.
We enter a room, a sample bedroom. I see the furnishings very clearly, lots of plain but quality wooden pieces, antiques, old-fashioned, and I explain this room probably belonged to a servant. Seeing no bed, and judging by its spacious dimensions, I add that it might have bee a relaxation room for the servants. We linger there and now it’s much larger as I sense the presence of other women without seeing them, but I hear them attempting to determine the square footage. My other featureless, there-but-not- there, best friend is leading the discussion and she estimates 500 square feet. I look around me, assessing the space in relation to the few objects in it, and remark that it looks more like 250 sf to me because I used to live in a town house that was 500 sf. I’ve become aware of a glass display case on the far left of the room and walk over to it. It’s filled with antique dress hats and gloves, I’m thinking 1930’s or 1920’s. I remember dark-blue, and tastefully silver highlights. They all belonged, I somehow know, to one woman, the room’s former occupant, and I wonder why she departed, and left everything here, as I enjoy studying the collection, moving from left to right. I pick up a hat with a buckle, and maybe a beak-like front, and try it on but, naturally, it’s much too small for me. I think at this point I begin waking up, because I don’t remember anymore about Sara’s visit.
4 vivid hypnagogic scenes:
An elephant, large, with somewhat hairy ears, facing me, and I somehow know that elephant is me, and perhaps an invisible male presence on my right tells me it is, or confirms this impression, which is strange because the elephant looks male and I’m female. (Elephants are associated with long, far, memories.)
A man abruptly enters my house through the sun room door. I’m not frightened even though I don’t recognize him; it’s sudden but okay.
A man, perhaps the same dark-haired man that entered the house earlier, picks up several boxes of different sizes, balancing them in his arms as I try ineffectually to help him. He tells me firmly, as I sit passively before him, that I needn’t do anything with the boxes until he tells me to.
I am told my name, Mirabel or Meradin? I remembered it clearly when I woke, but after falling asleep and another vivid hypnagogic scene, it slipped away and left only the certainty of “M” and “b”.