Vertigo Falls

Pulling stranded Otters out of tree-tops who got stuck there. I flap my newly grown wings to teach my friends, otters and humans, how to fly. But one human friend only wants to join the terrible skeleton army that comes from the sinking sands, in a no-good place under this one.

Now, in the hidden alpine mountains in north Canada; nobody knows they are here, kingdoms formed of leaf and rock. But now radioactivity has come to this place, and we must escape this poison. The skies are changing and vertigo falls on our senses. A black hole opens above us. Jets come rushing at us. The evil stars want to eat us. There isn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere.



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Changeling Baby

I dream I am pregnant, though I had not been inseminated. And suddenly I am several months along in this pregnancy, the growth unmistakably visible. I come to a wise witch’s house who tells me I have been impregnated by the spirit of the land, the Green Man, who gets up to these antics. But everybody knows I’m in love with him anyways! I wouldn’t mind at all being his woman. Lady Witch says, “Let’s get inside, quick, away from the eyes of the fairies!”

The Chaparral Fairies are watching, but I am clever to be unseen by them. Pregnant with a changeling child, I walk a California coastal mountain into town to tell my friends. Night comes, and I sit on a stone bench and look up at the stars who are spiraling in a crown above me at a visible pace. What will I do with this kid who grows in me? Do the adoption agencies have the resources to handle magical powers in babies?


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Prayer-sign of Discernment Among the Strange Creatures

In a dream I found them in a playground, strange hominids, in a world mirror to this one, in latitudes of spheres. The playground was a copy of my fourth-grade year.

It began in an elevator, two unknown friends and I. We were ten again, but in body only. We meant to go up only a few floors, but the elevator rattled and sparked and shot up to two hundred floors. When we exited we met a man who was a terrible monster like a beastly fish underneath his human disguise. We could see his reptile skin showing through. Many more of these mutants appeared and we did not know who was to be trusted or not, though we knew that some were surely allies. Hands in prayer palm-to-palm over my chest, by this I knew how to tell who among the creatures is friend or foe, and I led my friends in this symbol, the power of discernment. And I found that I was another one of these strange creatures, too.



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Blood Bird and Tall Trees

Through a dense forest I walked in the wintertime, called to share my knowledge for some purpose, and ostensibly to investigate an abandoned fairy playground. A horse wanted to come with me, but I could not get her over the very high fences. Thick snow covered the path but, my way, I could see clearly through it. All was frozen but I wasn’t cold.

Before me there was a magnificent giant bird; in all dreamworlds I have not seem anyone like him. He was a behemoth Wren, but a shock of blood-crimson color against the snow. Unlike a Wren in every way but that he was shaped liked one. I followed him and he led me through an abandoned barn.

On the other side were giant trees, a hundred times taller than the Giant Sequoias, and the snow was gone, and my breath was drawn from me. The trees breathed in place of my lungs and I became a part of them, sharing in their respiration. Horse found her way in the end.



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The Color of the Scent of Sea-Jasmine

A dream.

There is my own ship with my name on it. The wind is taking her out to sea. I jump into the deep salt blue to catch her ropes but, I am a fish, and the sky billows beyond me. It is quiet down here. The songs of whales. Breathing through water, so soothing and right, how did I ever live in the air? Fins are faster than legs, and more fluid. With the whale songs are the shanteys of mermaids. I am not the harbour.

Now, these pirates are shepherds, the ones who ferry souls from here to the Other Side. Pretty ladies in dresses of seaweed and sweetgrass, jasmine and the bark of the redwood trees twirl in unison as the sun passes down on its way. The deck is open to the four mighty winds, the sails are hoisted, and the soul of the ocean is open. Sirens, sing a name for the color of the scent of sea-jasmine. These enchantresses, they always do. They laugh and sing sweetly of Love.



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She Finds For Us a Way

A dream.

My horse I am riding is trying to jump us over an impossible fence. The barricade is made of something harder than stone, but barely a few feet high. What forcefield barrier is this? On one side of the divide is a freeway, and on the other side, an ancient forest. The trees in this forest are taller than the guess of humans, and beyond the reach of measurements. I cannot jump my horse over this fence, but she finds for us a way. A mob is sending battalions to catch us. But we are far above now, clothed by the forest. My horse and I jump and fly through the canopy, invisible to the eyes of the enemy.



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The Language of Shaping

I dreamt that I opened a homeless shelter for runaway teenagers and dispossessed young adults in downtown Fresno, California. We transformed an old factory building, with those picturesque old glass block factory windows, into a safe house of refuge and welcome for young people in crisis. When the people were ready to leave, they left empowered by good food, deep rest and a clean, upright mind. Angels walked the hallways and isles between beds and desks, leaving tracks of luminescent pigments of greens, purples and golds. How beautiful it was.

In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick of everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, “Be whole,” and they would become whole, not be broken people, not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.” –Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane



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It Has Never Been Discovered or Mapped

The following dream has been excavated from an old dream journal, dreamt sometime in 2008, and 17 or 18.


Wandering over the mountains, a hidden part of the Sierra Nevadas of California that nobody knows about and has never been discovered or mapped. Towards the east there are people robed in white and singing, and the pink light of dawn is enveloping the people in haloes. They are singing the sunrise into Creation.



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Two Dreams From 2007

These two dreams, excavated from an old dream journal, I dreamt sometime in 2007, when I was aged 16 or 17.


The desert is endless in all directions. I drag my feet forward, increasingly hopeless, but a sparkle of bright blue catches my eye. It is a pool of water beneath a sudden spring. I look into the water, and at the bottom is an astounding mosaic, many tiles of colors forming the image of a mermaid. The water is singing. I go in, and I am refreshed.


I am in a ditch of crocodiles, trapped and surrounded. The sides are too steep to escape. They are about to kill me, when my fist transforms into a ball of iron spikes, and I am filled with courage. As the reptiles’ jaws lock around my fist I destroy them each, and find the power to jump out of the ditch.


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Two Dreams from 2006

These two dreams, excavated from an old dream journal, I dreamt sometime in 2006, when I was aged 15 or 16.


At the end of a long canyon trail is a mysterious phone booth. *0 takes me to the edge of the known universe.


I am dueling with candlesticks. I go up against a man with a sharp metal sword who tries to overtake me, but he is stayed by my candlestick, which glows at the wick and will not break. It is no ordinary rose-colored wax. With this light I fight and defeat him.


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