Where the conscious and subconscious align.

Mind Palace Island Expansion: Part Three

Part Three

As I was soaking in the Presence of Heaven, beneath the blue lamplight, upon the healing green fern, with its lily white and luminescent blue flowers:

Suddenly, there was a shaking and a large banyan-like tree burst up from the ground. It was the sudden blooming of the diamond seed. The trunk shot up and branches burst out and opened like flower petals.

A ball of brilliant light “hovered” over the open center of the tree, like a small moon over a nocturnal plant. One of the branches reached out and a hammock-like vine hung down. I sensed it beckoning me to lay within it.

I lay in the hammock, feeling much comfort. Then the “pod” began to close around me. I was startled at first. I became hidden in a chrysalis. Again, I was surprised, not concerned or afraid. Only, I’ve been in such a chrysalis before. I didn’t understand. Why again?

I raised my hands up before my face and suddenly saw they were golden claws. I emerged from the pod in the wondrous realization that now, I embodied a Golden Dragon. I’ve been familiar with this creature for a while.

I first met her sleeping beneath the volcano on my Island, at the very beginning of its creation. She huddled in slumber, deep in private chambers, the natural dungeon caverns of the volcano. These caverns were not lined with gold, they were holes in the gold mountain. The caverns were treasure troves, full of coins, wonders, and all manner of treasure pieces that you might imagine being in a dragon horde.

Jesus introduced me to her as she slept, she was Gregga J. Johnn, the scribe under whose name I wrote all my books. I wondered at the time, why she was a separate entity? I often visited her restful peace.

There was one meditation, many moments ago, where I recall her waking up and rising out of the caverns to fly around the island, out of reach. Occasionally, she would let me fly on her back in glorious exhilaration. Yet, she continued wild, untamed, and only on the edges of my influence.

Yet, here now, I was coming forth out of a chrysalis AS THE GOLDEN DRAGON.

The timing of this gloriously aligned in the physical realm with the legal changing of my name to Gregga-Joy Johnn. I was flabbergasted and in awe.

This shifter-druid feline, with three separate sets of wings, is recreated: DRAGON BORN!    [Read my story Tales of the Trevel if you want to see more of the feline character.]

There is a mantle of Royalty and Nobility that comes with this great power. I was in awe; feeling this new sensation.

In feminine form, as I could shift to appear as a human woman, I am the single Queen of my Island, where this newer Castle has re-manifested upon my original island, only further in, yet deeper still, into another dimension; layer upon layer of experience, shifting deeper and deeper, folding in upon itself.

And there is more!

On the back coastline of my island, there is now a fishing village down on the cove. AND, there is a farming township snuggled around the walls of my castle… but it’s almost empty. No one lives there, yet. There are beautiful homes, a full market and business place, but they all wait for residents. They wait for my fans to come in and join my community… Where are you? Come and dream with me.

As the dragon, I turned around in my court-yard garden, roaring and breathing out a fiery white rainbow flame. As I roar, the boundaries of the castle push out and are enlarged, expanding exponentially, to fit my newer, greater size. The fire, however, does not destroy. Everything it touches suddenly blooms in abundance.

I try something.

I fly out to the empty township around the Castle and breath fire onto all the wood and plaster structures. Everything transforms. All that is temporary becomes permanent: shining precious metals, studded with gemstones bloom through. Instead of a rustic, empty town: a precious collection of ridiculously abundant and wealthy buildings shine.

Returning to my very large castle, I shift from dragon form, back into feminine form and walk down to the fishing village, wandering from the township, across the hillside, and on down to the cove. I meander through that market place among the villagers. Everyone knows me and we greet each other amiably, as these are “my people”. It’s idyllic and beautiful.

I continue down to the pier that juts out into the cove waters.

I feel my heart reaching out, yearning for the Guardian King of my Heart. Falling forward, I dive off the pier, shifting back into the Golden dragon underwater. I spin and dive in the waters, swimming around the cove, then bursting up out of the blue liquid again, flying over the fishing village.

Drops of water fall off my scales and drip onto the village below. Where the water falls, it lands softly, but then solidifies into diamonds. The villagers cheer with delight. So, I fly back around and breathe the glourious white raninbow fire upon everything. At first their shock is full of fright. But then, the village is transformed from simple peasanty into luxurious wealth, bursting with abundance. It was amazing.

I returned to the castle of this beautiful, perfectly idyllic island. And walked along the walls of my courtyard. I saw something in the distance from my look out.

A galleon appeared on the horizon, sailing directly for the cove…

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Mind Palace Island Expansion: Part Two

Part Two

Events in the physical realm that align with these moments involve loving another, yet seeing him depart on his own needed journey of discovery. Rather than cling to what was, or let go of what is, I buried it for a time, waiting patiently to see what might come forth. Serving as I wait. Loving as I wait. Patiently living in Joy, under the Presence of Elohim.

In the visions of my Mind Palace, as I soak in the Blue Light, the very Presence of Elohim in His Kingdom of Heaven, I saw a bud grow up like a fern, from out of the dirt. The fresh light soaked on the green, tender shoot. It uncurled and became fronds of a dark, thick, healing ground cover.

Each time, I was tested to the core and came out victorious over the course of my life, a flower grew in conjunction with that, like a lotus lily. Its petals were soft white with a luminescent center that glowed blue, against the dark green fern, reflecting the Presence of Heaven, shining from the lamppost that stood above it.

This fern ground cover sprouted from the golden light bulb (my heart’s love), contained in the box with True Love. The seed of the diamond (my desire to love and be loved in return) had yet to sprout. Obviously, it being harder, it will take longer to die and be reborn, to then sprout into new life.

I watch and wait eagerly. All the while resting on the ground beneath the lamp post in my private garden of abundance. The ground cover fern slowly grows (from the past), around (the present) and under me (to come).

I soak in the Presence, allowing the grime of daily living, and the stains of past choices to dissolve in the Presence of Jesus, Elohim.

Let me drip and shine to reflect only Your

ILLUMINATE SELF, LORD JESUS

Amen & AMEN

Mind Palace Island Expansion: Part One

Much has happened on my island since last I wrote of the Golden Castle, the Doorway, and what was on the Other side. That doorway took me to a completely new place that, in the wonder of Paradox, was deeply familiar in being the same.

Jesus stood me in the center of my new familiar courtyard, in the Castle of my mind, that place layered in gold with a luxurious gem-fruit garden, but in a newer dimension of more clarity and expansion. I could re-craft this castle any way I wanted.

Instead of the simple rectangular form, with one bower apartment, I raised up four turrets. Each turret was the corner stone of a wide and generous walking wall that ran in circular curves around the large central open court. Yet, they weren’t just staircase towers. These turrets were full sized, six storied apartments that included a roof-top garden and secret basement rooms. I kept one, the south-west one, on the left side of the front gate, as my own private chambers. The other three, I made room and set up in the heart of my life for my sons, as they grow into young men needing their own space. This way, my mema heart always holds her beloved sons near, yet I do so respecting their privacy and need to develop their own lives. These are simply the places in my heart where they may always visit and come home to, from their own journeying.

The central court remains open to the sky with all of nature filling, spilling over, and running through. There is a lamp post in the center of my jeweled court yard garden. This lamp has been lit with a golden light bulb of love. I have now taken this light bulb out and replaced it with a blue sapphire light; representing the very Presence of the very Holy God, in His Kingdom of Heaven.

I took the golden light bulb of my love and a pure-fresh picked diamond that is fully grown and harvested. This diamond is my desire for True Love; all my longing to love one husband and to be loved by one husband, in return.

I took this golden light bulb and this diamond (being my love and my desire for True Love) and I buried them together at the base of the lamp post. All my love, I compressed and compartmentalized into a golden glowing wood-box. In this box is the lightbulb and the diamond. I closed them all up together, then removed them from my beating, bleeding heart, and buried them beneath the lamp post, of the Presence of Heaven.

My heart had an empty place left over. Yet, I bask under the Lamppost and fill all of myself with the blue light, of the Presence of Heaven. And I am filled. We shall see what will grow from this planting.

ringsIn this physical realm, I want to re-begin wearing my family heirloom engagement ring and the old tri-circled (antique Russian) wedding ring that my mum gave me. They are physical symbols of my commitment to the Triune God and my engagement in loving all of His Creation, (while I wait to see what grows).

I will ferociously love my Elohim, set apart solely for Him, in this season;

In the service of loving all His creation, with the power of purity- in the love and Authority of Jesus Christ, the Name of Jesus, and the Authority of Heaven:

Thy Will be done on Earth, in the same way, it is done in Heaven.

To bring down, to dwell in, and to manifest Heaven on Earth, in all my living.

Amen & AMEN

WE STRUCK OIL!

WE STRUCK OIL!

I awoke this morning after wading through insomnia last night. I was up into the early, dark hours of the night, with one concern on my heart. I prayed through four hours of bathing my concerns in love and the power of Divine Love.

After a few hours of sleep, dreams of washing concerns away, and the death of past ways of living, filled my heart. Yet, my soul was troubled, deeply. When I awoke into the new morning, my heart continued troubled.

I moved through my morning routine, pressing in to the Presence of Jesus. I sang worship and praise songs, carrying music with me through all my farm chores. (The animals love it when I play music and sing around them.)

When I made my way inside, again, I continued in meditation, clinging to the Presence of a good, Good Father in Heaven. There was a rumbling in my heart and I felt much disruption within. Still, I clung to the goodness of God; King of my Heart. He is so good.

My meditation practice incorporates physical movement similar to the strenuous stretching and breathing of yoga. After working my muscles for a short while, in a moment of physical and emotional exhaustion, I rolled over onto my back, and thence began my vision….

 

I saw a great, hand-held pick axe: Heaven’s Digger. No visible hand held it. It descended quickly upon me, too quick for me to be afraid. I simply watched as it swung down onto my chest. The sharp end dug into my heart. Instantly, it burst backwards as a sudden burst of golden oil exploded up, out of my heart.

I heard the words,

WE STRUCK OIL!

The turbulence in my heart boiled and bubbled over, spraying all around me. I saw the faces of those closest to my heart all drenched in this golden oil.

IT WAS THE GLORY OF HEAVEN. The Oil of Joy for mourning! The fuel of Heaven, God’s Glory, spewed out of my heart and the disruption in my soul settled down as the flow glugged to a slow and steady bubbling. Golden oil spread all about me, seeping into everything it touched.

I bathed in the Glory, the Presence of Heaven. And all who drew closer to me, were made wet and covered by this Oil of Heaven’s Glory. AMEN.

The Other Side

As time runs separately, wibbly-wobbly even, in my mind palace, it was during a separate visit that I discovered what was through the door I’d passed.
In two successive dreams, I pieced together a little of where I now stood.

Often great discoveries will occur in my visits, so in order to absorb fully, contemplate upon, and form understanding, each session there is typically short. I wander the halls of wonder in my mind, slowly traversing my soul with care.

My first glimpse into this entirely new landscape was a third person perspective; watching myself.

I stood in a barren field, the door behind me now closed and disappeared (as magical doors are often want to do). Jesus will often open doors that no human may open, and close doors to never be opened again.

[In this moment, I do not know if I will ever return to the place behind that door. I have a sense of leaving the past behind, to never return, while moving on into newer, deeper, wilder, and exponentially more expansive places and seasons. But I’ll not say never, for that is rarely real.]

This barren field was burned. All around me the quiet hissed in sooty dirt, charred stalks, and smoldering smoke. It was a quick glimpse: me standing in the burn-off with the attitude of a wary deer, suddenly caught exposed.

Ahead, in first person again, I now saw a dark and welcoming wood. I jumped over the separating ditch and landed in the quiet peace of enchantment. I smiled, recognizing my memories of Enid Blyton’s, Enchanted Forest.

I love the way healing imageries entwine with familiar memories.
I’ve never visited to this place before, yet, I know it as home.

Looking ahead, my Jesus coaxes me in; ever deeper. C.S. Lewis calls this, “further up and further in.” I hear the Eternal song, its humming and soothing melody, “deeper still, yet deeper still, follow Me,” says Jesus.

I gaze ahead through another dark path. Indeed, the whole wood seems to be a tunnel,  overshadowed by trees and a thick canopy of leaves. For me, it is most inviting, as a safe, comfy bed may be on a black night of peaceful dreaming.

I take hold of that pierced hand and together we delve into deeper adventure….

The Doorway

I had a rough week last week.  I put myself in a place full of pain and heartache so that those who were held captive there might not be there alone.
But I did not escape such a place without the atmosphere clinging to me.  Some of the fog that was fear and raging, with clouds of despair and loneliness, clung to me, by proximity of stepping in close to those who were held tight in the grip of trauma.
This bled over into all areas of my life.

At one point, in my daily duties, I found myself seated in a meeting with my heart clipped of joy and suffocated out of hope. I could not bear to be in that moment, yet I was not able to leave.  All I could do was close my eyes and breathe until it passed.
So I went to my mind palace.

Immediately, I walked into the secret river there, stepping into the sucking grime of the mud flats. It was low tide, but the water was coming in quickly. 
I made my way, gingerly past the oyster farm racks and through to the mangrove embankment. The trees were partially submerged in mud and river water.
There, I found a little mossy island under the leafy branches. It was a brilliant, spring-green tuft of softness. So, I lay down upon it and cried. I curled up, like a baby in a crib, between the mangrove tree trunks, upon a bed of dry, warm moss, beneath a leafy ceiling and cried and cried.
When I quieted myself, my sorry, sated in weariness, I heard a loving voice tell me to roll over. I did. And as I lay upon my back, looking up into the leaves, they began to twinkle. The faeries came out to play.
These tiny tree-stars, as they called themselves, glittered like sparkles, as big as bees, lining the leaves and braches, trunks, and even the moss, or reflecting on the water. My heart warmed in wonder at the beauty of it.
I sat up and looked down the long corridor of dark, mangroves trees, glittering with tree-star fae. Their twinkling delighted and enticed me.
Jesus meet me there, as He often does. He coaxed me off my bed of tears, down the tunnel with Him. I began to walk, but my wings itched and fluttered.
We flew, dancing about each other, racing down a long line of dark trees to burst out over the full river at high tide.
We didn’t stop there.
On across the wide waters and over the tall, graceful stone bridge at the river’s mouth. I thought we may go out to sea, but He took me up to a door in the sky, with water all around.
I stepped onto the threshold of the door and Jesus walked  me through…

Vision of the Gold Garden Castle

There was once a strong refuge, a castle, buried deep in a hidden forest on a secret, wandering island: the soul of humanity. On this wandering island, deep in a central forest, there was a hidden pathway; guarded and secure.

Down this path, through a small clearing, there were steps of solid stone that descended past wilderness upon the right and cared for garden on the left. They ran all the way down to an underground river. But this was not a dark and dank place for there was a Light that shone as the sun. This light did not imitate the sun. For this was the pure Light that the sun imitated in its physical hanging among the stars.

Resting upon the ledges and plateaus on the left side, of the bottom half of this staircase, was a pale, stone castle.

Entry to this castle was made on the top floor of a stone wall that ran at right-angles from the steps. The walls then ran along in two parallel lines on either side of an open court. As the steps continued descending down to the water on the outside.

These walls extended in rectangular fashion until they reached two towers that stood either side of a great gate. Through this filigree iron gate, visions of manicured and richly cared for lawns reached down to the river’s edge. The lawns were all that the French gardens in Versailles hoped to achieve. Spreading out and snuggling up to the edging of the river.

But the Castle!

The long and simple rectangle, at the river end, held the two towers and the great gate. But at the top end (and entry), there were three levels. The first ground level held a royal dais, open under the arches to gaze over the courtyard. The top floor was the open wall; an expanse for wandering and viewing all the wilderness, the jungle, and the courtyard with gardens below.

The second level was as a bower. A luxuriously decorated and sumptuously filled room full of curtains, tapestries, carpets, pillows; all that anyone might desire for tenderly consoling and resting one’s whole self. A bed lay by the open arch windows where comfort and rest were its focus- inviting. It looked down upon the private courtyard, as the courtyard looked up into this most intimate of chambers.

This private and most intimate refuge was the secret place upon the Sanctuary of this wandering island. It was a place of healing, refreshment, restoration, and consolation. I have often visited this precious place, even built it to these specifications of my own soul’s restoration.

But in this vision, I saw it lifted up!

I hovered, as flying, off the coast and out to sea, looking back over the whole expanse of this emerald, forested island.

There is one mountain, a semi-dormant volcano on the left side, an open forest space in the center, and a section on the far right; being where I know a great lake and exotic fruit orchards laze about.

But there in the center, suddenly from under the depths of the hidden places in this island, the castle rose up! Beneath it another great mountain formed, rushing up. This castle left the secret place and was pushed to equal-level heights of the great volcano.

The pale, stone castle shone upon the top of the mountain ridge. And I rushed to see what caused this.

Knowing what was the make-up of the heart of this island, and knowing what it is that leaks and gurgles out of the volcano as lava… I watched in delight as a central fountain sprung up in the castle courtyard. The top most bursting liquid was clear, like the purest of water. But it shone like crystal, flinging rainbows about as a canopy over the whole place. Yet as the drips fell they thickened and colored, as if it cooling from a burning heat.

The lower bowls of the fountain contained this more sluggish golden liquid. Until at the very bottom, the open well of the fountain, there gurgled over the edging, a thick and pure, slow moving, molten gold. It coated the floor and the walls were already splashed. Indeed, the entire castle shone in the reflecting brilliance of golden bricks and stonework.

But the gold was not a cold element as we know it in this physical world. This golden liquid, I was urged to taste. For Jesus stood there with me, showing off all the newest wonders of this: our precious and secret hideaway.

He urged me to taste.

I reached out my finger to the liquid, expecting to feel heat, as in this physical world molten gold is fired to high temperatures. Yet in this place, there is a void of hot or cold. The whole atmosphere has no temperature other than a forecast of “pleasantly perfect.”

The liquid was smooth with the consistency of melted chocolate. I tasted and the sweet richness was familiar, like milk chocolate, but so much more, entirely satisfying, fulfilling, and comforting to my mouth, my tongue, and my soul. Yet, just one lick and I needed no more. It was so perfectly delicious that it left no savoring need for more in my mouth.

Then Jesus laughed with my delight, sharing my joy. He clapped his hands and vines burst in rapid evolution about the whole place.

Leaves burst forth in many shades of emerald. And I did not see what they were, for the blindness of my presumption: that I already knew.

But then fruit grew forth, bursting upon branches and my LORD had me investigate more closely… I saw it was a diamond!

A diamond hung before my face, the size and shape of a pear. Many other diamonds bloomed upon that tree and a heavy, sweet scent filled the breeze.

Jesus picked one and gave it to me,

“Eat,” He said.

The smell of this heavy fruit in my fingers drew my hand to my salivating mouth. And before my mind had time to question the wisdom of biting into a shining, faceted diamond, I took a bite!

Oh! The softness of the meat that melted in sweet refreshment upon my taste buds. This shinning flavor of sweet light glimmered down my throat. It was chewier and full of more flavor than anything I had ever tasted before.

I was in awe and wonder.

Then Jesus gestured to the whole garden about me.

There, hung about the walls of gold like chocolate, plants and vines and trees of every kind of fruit grew. But rather than simple fruits that I knew, they were gemstones and precious minerals. All tasty. All satisfying. All shining in a beauty that my eyes could not even take in all at once. The more I looked, the closer I focused upon each gem-fruit, the more beautiful and multi-faceted each one was.

There were grape vines heavy laden with bunches of sapphires. Strawberry plants burst with rubies and apple trees dropped with garnets and topaz.

Passion fruit vines hung their precious pods of delicate solid opals, that when broken open, spilled forth seeds of flaming orange, red, yellow, green, and purple; all in a sweet pulps of white, blue, and black.

Bananas hung in heavy bunches, peeling back to reveal the meat of pearls, and citrus trees exploded with heavy skinned bags of round fruits full of the juices of citrines.

The leaves themselves, I now saw, were emeralds: pungent with the aroma of healing properties. They and the flower petals flittered in the breeze as crystalline minerals growing and reaching out to form the bursting produce.

I have never before been in a garden of such enriched, precious wonder!

All was mine to feast upon. Yet I craved none of it to grasp at, for each bite was fully satisfying. I had no need, no hunger, and no excess gathered about me as fat, nor poisoned my tummy with illness. I ate as I pleased and therein was fully satisfied to enjoy the remaining garden as it grew.

This secret refuge, Jesus had raised up out of the hidden place, and set up on display. He filled it with nourishment, sustenance, and satisfaction; all fully shinning, visible, and glorious in Him.

We danced!

A bridal veil of pure white lace came down to shroud us both, as He held me close. And so we swayed in the golden gem-ed, garden courtyard. (I am sure it looked amusing, like a child floating about in a sheet.)

But there, under the lace canopy of shroud, it was just me and my Savior, face to face. Staring into each other’s eyes in complete adoration, lost in the intimacy of our precious love, in this beautiful place.

All else disappeared as Bride and Christ dance the marriage dance – just two; precious to each other, wholly set apart, and Holy shinning for all to see. Not a care in the world, yet all the care of the universe: tending, protecting, sheltering, lifting up, and rejoicing in the Dance.

BLESSED BE THE LORD GOD ON HIGH FOR HE BLESSES HIS PEOPLE WHOM HE LOVES!

Gold frost

Image curtesy of Cecilia O’Brien

[for more about this author and what she is doing, check out her website: GreggaJJohnn]

I continued descending

I continued descending either sliding down the metal railing or skipping down the rock carved steps. I paused, as was my childhood habit, at a break in the railing and stepped out to my left and carefully made my way over the slick, grassy slope to the large exposed rock. It was the perfect sit spot to survey all that lay before me.

Just below, only a few feet away, was the upper garden plateau. It overlooked the house, level with the roof. This was my granddad’s veggie garden. I couldn’t wait to see what fresh delicacies grew there, but I continued to linger, cherishing the lush bush sounds and breathing peacefully in the air of memory.

This is where they would be. I knew it. This place would be the reason I had spent such effort and time to generate this memory palace.

You see, one of the major side effects that comes with suffering from depression (even the kind that is coupled with mania as my madness was so often want to enjoy), this side-effect is a severed memory.

I have found depressive memory loss is not like the dementia I see in the lady for whom I am caregiver. For her, every sentence of conversation is new and we might cycle around the same question five times in only double the minutes. She knows not if she’s eaten, nor when she’s last bathed; but she can regale her best days as a young woman to me in vivid detail.

Again, it was not so with me. There was seemingly no rhyme or reason to my memory loss. I could recall many recoiling memories of ill behaviors in which I’d taken part, but I couldn’t remember anything of my sons’ early days.

These were the treasures that I sought. I knew I had been there. I knew I was present all the days of holding babies in arms, feeding, and rocking them to sleep. But, I had lost these memories. They had been severed and hidden within the darkest reaches of my mind.

So as I sat there, looking down on the natural green paint that embraced the rounded corners of my grandparent’s home, I knew that I should find here, all the memories I had misplaced. I just had to look carefully.

I also knew there were other dark memories that I’d purposed to put away in storage, kept quiet and settled under the dust of time. These memories I did not wish to disturb again, at least not on my own, least they overtake and bury me.

I prayed,

“Elohim guide me as I seek out the forgotten. Keep me in Your joy. I invite You here into the depths of this, my internal Being. Be Immanuel here – God with us, Amen.”

~“I AM;” His constant reply.

I continued in my sit spot, watching out over the roof top and down, glimpsing at the manicured lawns and garden that edged their way to the river. It was high tide now so the oyster farms and mud flats were submerged. The mangroves dangled loose branches into the water and fish nosed up circular ripples in the still-ish waters.

A mournful train announced itself through a tunnel far off to my right and clattered across the bridge in the distance. I smiled with the kookaburra’s laugh, standing up to stretch.

Making my way down through the veggie garden, I snacked on strawberries, ran my fingers through the fringy carrot tops, and munched on fresh peas cracked out of their pods. I descended past the nasturtiums and my favorite spot of maiden hair fern at the base of the back stairs.

Turning left, I entered the cool, covered back porch just as the mist turned to rain and trilled a happy greeting of drum beats on the corrugated roof.  The back door was open, as always, with only the screen keeping unwanted flies out of the kitchen.

I paused, peeking in. It smelled of baking scones and I could see through to the living room beyond the hall. I thought heard the TV announcing a cricket game and I snorted,

“It would seem such boredoms might haunt me even in my dreams.”

But, I smiled with fondness as I could almost hear my granddad, my dad, uncles, and cousins all bemoaning or cheering the latest, “out.” The nattering and clattering of my grandma, mum, and aunts making lunch almost joined the sounds as well as my younger fellow cousins playing in the spare room, some shouting over the latest round of “Spill the Beans.”

The rain sang her lullaby over me and I slowly opened the screen door to enter with cherishing tears falling. But, once inside, all was quiet and the silence of solitude embraced me like a prodigal with expectant delight.

I became fast friends

I became fast friends with Lucy and Sally, so they showed me the secret entrance that their homey webs were guarding.

As is often the case with hidden matters, I discovered my island was more than just a dream within a dream. Neither was it just layers like an onion or parfait. Rather, this island was a playground through which I could phase into multiple dimensions.

I’m not sure I can even tell the boarders of each place precisely. Reality is more fluid within the soul, spiritual, and imagined realms. So, I ceased from trying to decipher that which I experienced in my mind as I am not inclined toward the mysteries of mechanics, or science, nor even so much of philosophy.

My mind prefers to roam within Story, allegory, metaphysical imagery, and parable. So I just went with it. I laid the foundations of Light and Truth and then I set out upon this unexpected journey to discover what dreams may come.

When, before me, Lucy stepped her eight legged, glossy blackness aside, I recognized a pathway that was precious to me in familiarity. There, hidden behind the webby security, was a stony and sandy path that ran between the right hand solid wall of my lighthouse and the left hand side tangle of trees and vines.

Then on it became a grassy pathway. The jungle side on my left petered out for a space to reveal, a rocky cliff face with a ladder secured into it. But further along, about half way between the last of the jungle mess and the mildly foreboding resuming of vegetation tangle up ahead, there was a rock carved, concrete staircase that horizontally descended from the path.

Down the hill on my right it meandered, through rough and natural gardens, all the way past that lovely familiar green home, and continuing down through the manicured lawn toward the river’s muddy edge.

It was my grandmother’s house.

I glanced about briefly at the top of the steps, in case I might see a wolf about. But, then I sang forth at the top of my lungs with our traditional Auzzie, family greeting, “KooooEeh!”

Birds flapped and chittered, calling and laughing round about. A family of kangaroos blinked and bound off into the scrub land hillside to my right. I began my descent by sliding down the metal handrail to the first landing as this is just how it was done.

My heart soared as I returned to the only solid home I’d known through all my past. The one place, in all my childhood mobility, that I could always come home to and know it was still there, full of love, and always full of family.

Laughter hung heavily about in the air and the tears of cherished memories dripped as misting rain upon the leaves.

I’d come home to find myself within.

The spider web was cast

The spider web was cast from off the side of the lighthouse and across the tree-line where the forest started on the (stage left) side of the cabin. I knew I had to face my fear. I had already learned to scuba dive so I could overcome my claustrophobia (and swim with sharks). Now, I guess, my mind was the safest place to work out my fear and loathing of spiders.

The worst thing about Sally and Lucy was not their looks although they were both terrifying to look at. It was their eyes. Their eyes were soft, gentle, kind, and inviting. It pained them to see me so afraid of them. It pained me to see that I made them so sad.

They moved with slow gentility, approaching with their backs as close to the ground as they could. I think it was their way of showing submission, but to me they looked even creepier and crawlier all spread out, six feet wide across the grass.

I shuddered.

They paused. Lucy, the hook spider, dropped her head, downcast. Sally was always the more patient one. I guess that why I all still mourn her loss. Lucy is still with me.

Sally kept creeping closer and I heard the reaffirmation in my mind to not judge by appearances so I closed my eyes. It was my eyes that were betraying me. I shut out the images that told my brain to be afraid, and Sally caressed my cheek with a velvety paw… do spiders have paws?  I don’t think that’s what you call them, but it sounds prettier than “end of her leg” so I’ll go with that.

She smelled like fresh grass in the summer rain and that triggered a deeper response of love. So with my eyes still closed, I reach up and placed my hand on the paw that rested by my eyes. Her fur was as soft as a rabbit’s, silky to the touch. I sat on the ground at peace and reached out with all my senses, but my lying eyes. I felt a tender scratching on my scalp and realized Lucy’s hooked paws were combing through my hair.

I blinked in reflex and saw all their legs so close and all about me… I shuddered again and the betrayal of my eyes leaked in a dribbling tear. I was so afraid for absolutely no reason that was of this moment. Oh, but moments of my past were full of the screams of my sisters and mother and the frantic dashes of my father as we chased large spiders out of my childhood home… those thoughts hit every panic button in my system. Even the memories of happy tree climbing brought to a sudden, panicky end as massive, palm width spiders, napping on tree trunks surprised my carefree play.

I wanted to screech so badly, but I clamped my eyes shut tight again and bit my tongue. Sally kept softly stroking the skin of my cheek and down my arm. Lucy kept weaving my hair about itself with her hooks.

Another memory came to mind and I blessed the name of Enid Blyton. My favorite children’s author had written many magical tales that fed the wonder of my insatiable reading as a little girl. So I surrounded myself with images of fairy princesses wearing delicate dancing gowns made from fresh spun spider silk and the twining of my hair pulled out thoughts of delight as I wondered how many others, fairy or no, had been privileged to have their hair braided by a gigantic, gentle spider?

I blinked my eyes open again. Sally’s face was right up close to mine. All her eyes filled my field of vision. I saw nothing but love and tenderness before me. I blinked again and smiled. My heart warming to their care.

I lifted my head back to see Lucy as she stood behind me, still combing and winding my hair in a delicate style I’d never seen created by human hands. I could see the reflection of her wondrous weaving work in the multiple mirrors of her eyes.

I swallowed as I convinced my eyes that the long, black, spindly legs meant tender, creativity, not what I had been thinking before. I was starting to believe.

My breathing relaxed as I began nattering happily to them. They fussed over me like nursemaids.