Beekeeper's Adventures in Consciousness

18^th December, 2011.
Sunday

First dreams were largely continuing what we had done before bed, which was dinner late into the night with two families, whose company we enjoy.

"Independence"
I’m in town with a thin, blond woman, shorter but slightly older than me. She is the head of the Catholic Education office. She’s telling me that our independent school is going to be absorbed into their system. I walk through some streets with her and board a bus. I’m only on it very briefly when something tells me this isn’t where I’m supposed to be or want to be so I immediately disembark.

I hurry back to where I began and realize I have my old car parked here. My sister is there and we talk about something I can’t remember.

Now I’m in the C's “house.” There’s a stage under some stairs, with a glass between audience and performers. The audience consists of Penny, Sandro and me and we view moments from their son’s lives.

I’m not sure of what happens next. Perhaps Sandro plays a trick on them – he fancies himself a bit of a joker.

19^th December, 2011.
Monday

"Erin Makes Changes"
I’m at work and Erin has made changes; the staffroom is totally transformed. I work in it for a while, go away and return. Now things are altered again. This time the desks are outside. This won’t do, what if it rains?

Linda T, the AP at G’s school, approaches and asks me what’s wrong. I don’t want to talk to her because I don’t trust her and I don’t want to complain about Erin to her.

Now I wander upstairs in a newly built brick building. I see inside that we have a new staffroom. The desks are new and neatly arranged.

Note: Erin, our new co-ordinator, has been very controversial. I like her and find her reasonable, so I can’t see why others, some of them highly reasonable people themselves, have had such difficulty with her.

"H defends himself."
I’m on the street outside a house when a small blond boy approaches. He’s apparently been aggressive towards H, as some boys were when H was in primary school and really didn’t know about aggression or how to respond to it. I threaten him, warning him to leave H alone or I’ll deal with him and I won’t be kind.

In the meanwhile, H is a few metres away and another boy is starting on him. H is his current size (very large for a 14 year old) and looks at me for permission to defend himself. I give it to him with a nod and a look.

Note: In waking reality, we occasionally observed boys bully H when he was younger. We showed him how to defend himself but he was always reluctant, thinking it was wrong to fight back. By high school he had learnt to do it and it quickly ended the harassment.

I really must go straight to my journal. I slept in this morning and woke up with a head full of dreams but because I took so long I can now only recall the last two.

20^th December, 2011.
Tuesday

For the few hours before bed I was preparing a unit for next year on Gothicism. Consequently, I was reading essays on Brahm Stoker’s Dracula. These included Feminist, Marxist, Homosexual and Post Structualist readings. It’s not at all surprising then that vampires featured heavily in my dreams.

Vampire
I don’t remember the beginning of this dream.
I’m on the floor of a small room and there’s a dark haired female vampire about my age (a shadow self, perhaps) whom I can see in the adjoining room. I know I’ve already been bitten and I’m dreading further bites. She approaches the door and I see there are a couple of young women out there with her so I suggest she bite them – they’re younger. Then I feel that was selfish and cruel. In any case, she has her own ideas and approaches and bites me on the back of my neck.
I try to shorten her drinking by pretending to swoon and she leaves me alone temporarily. Then she sees me again through the door and clearly realizes she could have taken more blood/life force, so she returns for more. While she feeds I begin to recall some of the reading I did before bed that suggested that the vampire in Stoker’s novel represents male dominance through the penetrative act, even when the vampire is a (transgressive)female, and that the blood drinking represents sex - only people couldn’t write about such things in a sexually repressive society. This memory triggers mild sexual excitement while the vampire feeds and when I mention it to her she promises some satisfaction of that impulse later. I vaguely wonder what that might entail.

Now I’m alone and Beth crawls to the doorway. She knows what has happened to me and states sympathetically, “Female monsters are far worse than males.”

Note: Beth’s statement is interesting. As a former male, I guess she’d be in a reasonable position to compare male and female monsters. She recently spent many weeks in hospital with a serious infection that could have taken her life and could be classified as a “female monster.” This renewed our contact, though I didn’t know about it until towards the end of her hospital stay. That renewal quickly turned sour for various reasons and I simply ceased contact with a person I believed was beginning to behave monstrously. No doubt, she felt the same about me.

I wake up and can hear a “radio”. This time the astral noise is so consistent, distinct and long-lasting that I think the clock radio must have been accidentally reset and I lift my head from the pillow. I hear it for some time before it fades away and then I’m mildly annoyed because I could have possibly used the state to project.

Another vampire dream follows. I can’t recall details. It’s possibly set in a doctor’s office.

Toddler

I’ve been caring for a toddler for some years but now it’s the end of that period. I explain it to the little blond boy but I’m not sure he understands. I load him into a stroller, planning to take him for a walk. There are other things I’m taking too, the accouterments that accompany babyhood. The family’s pet dog, a boxer, might also accompany us.

I stroll down the street and encounter a group of youth. I’m not sure of them but a young dark-haired male puts out his hand to give the baby a high five.

Now G and I are loading baby into the car. I’ve placed him in his safety capsule and G is behind the car carrying the boxer, its legs folded like a deer. He’s going to put it in the boot but I suggest he not do that, so he places it in a plastic laundry basket inside the car.

Note: I wonder if this dream in some way references my oldest son leaving home for uni next year. Some of the references, such as a dog and the basket, come from the previous day spent with my younger son. While we walked the dog we briefly discussed me minding their children and even their dog, once I am retired. We also shopped and among the items I bought was a new laundry basket.

I just this minute recovered a very strange memory. I read a friend's Facebook status that expressed amusement that her toddler daughter told her to shoosh because she was on her toy phone. Either I had an intensely powerful imagination as a child or I really did hear voices communicating with me when I played on my little plastic toy phone.

"Would you keep it down. My guide is trying to say something. Thanks." :D

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Korpo

"Would you keep it down. My guide is trying to say something. Thanks." :D

---

So funny :lol:

:lol:

22^nd December, 2011.
Thursday.

My earlier dream is vague. A young man is teaching me something. It feels like I do some mathematics.

"Skin Cancer"
I’m in a hospital, perched up in a metal laundry tub in preparation for some kind of procedure. The woman in charge comments on the fact that I’m nice and clean and that the majority of her patients aren’t. There are several other hospital staff members around me. I climb down from the tub and we head off together, apparently in order to remove a skin cancer.

Note: I’ve been planning to get the doctor to do a skin cancer check for me.

"Peter P."
I’m sitting with G and someone else and about 25 metres away Peter P appears to be conducting proceedings at some kind of meeting. He’s peering over his glasses, waiting for people to stop talking. I make a statement about this to G and then Peter peers my way but with a smile on his face. I comment to G about how I’m the only one he smiles at for talking and we chuckle together.

Note: Peter is a teacher at my work, a sweet, more senior gent who always smiles at me. I think he’ll retire soon.

“A Teacher’s Bad Dream”
I’m at work and I’ve walked across to an alternative English/History staffroom. Within are two teachers engaged in professional discussion. They’re planning an exam, discussing using a question for one part that has worked well in the past. They can apparently purchase the question from some professional organization. It surprises me that I know nothing about this organization and it makes me feel that I need to improve in regards to knowing where to obtain resources.

Note: This is an area I’m aware of that could actually improve in waking reality. I tend to be self-sufficient in tracking down and creating resources and this is extremely taxing on my time. These women also represent the type of people at work that can namedrop and know all the “stars” of our profession. I’m not good at that at all.

Now they acknowledge me. The dominant one is diminutive with shoulder length dark brown hair. It’s hard to estimate her age, she feels younger than me in the dream but the person she looks most like in WR is slightly older than I am. There’s a sense that she knows the ropes and has been at the school a long time. The other is blond, tall, slightly heavy and with a moderately clumsy feel to her.

Notes: The first reminds me of the mother of one of our son’s friends. She is a basketball mum and when our eldest played she was very much in charge of running the local comp and refereeing the games. My husband and various parents on the team couldn’t stand her, considering her something of a zealot when it came to the rules and regulations. I didn’t think she was that bad. The other woman reminds me of a clumsy version of Vicki, a football mum and the receptionist at the local chiropractor.

The brunette begins to address me. She hasn’t met me before but she tells me she had one of my history classes after me. She announces that they thoroughly preferred her, complaining about my teaching and lack of classroom control. I’m stunned by her frankness and begin to berate her, calling her rude. Her friend supports her insensitivity and walks beside me as I head back to the staffroom, attempting to justify it.

Note: Competitiveness is rife in teaching and students will often inadvertently feed it by complaining about their former teachers. Teachers do get reputations and I’m used to enjoying a very good one but when I began at my current workplace I did encounter the History class from hell – the worst behaved and most hateful kids I’d taught anywhere. Being a newcomer is a challenge in itself, so this was unfortunate timing. They left their mark on my psyche. They certainly left their mark on the collective psyche of the teaching staff.

I ignore her but I’m considering some kind of retaliation. There’s the thought of unleashing a psychic attack but I’m resisting it, knowing it’s not a mature or wise response. There’s a real sense the intensity of my emotion is such that the impact of such an attack would be dramatic. I’m aware that if I send it, I’ll see it as a storm.

Notes: Before bed I read a medium’s blog where she described being attacked psychically. I’m teetering on lucidity here in the sense that I’m aware that emotions can manifest physically in this dream environment.

I reach my usual staffroom and tell a few colleagues why I’m incensed. A couple of them begin to bitch about these teachers from another staffroom. Their support is appreciated but I’m not interested in the things they say to degrade the other women, who were clearly hardworking and competent teachers.

Note: There is one friend in particular at work that bitches about other staff members. She’s been there a long time and holds old grudges. The description above is how I often regard her bitching: I appreciate that she’s supporting me or someone else but I always feel she takes it too far, demeaning the entire person instead of simply disapproving a singular act.

It seems like the characters in this dream are shadow aspects: the conceited/competitive/insensitive one, she who defends the indefensible and those who are quick to judge and condemn.

“The boss’ dance”
My eldest son sits on a lounge before a television watching “The X Factor.” I come and stand behind him to see what he’s watching. Suddenly the boss is there and does a funny little dance in order to be amusing. This is meant to be for my amusement in order to imply we’re hip, fun-loving people.
Note: This is about the way I perceive my boss’ self-perception. F would never watch “X Factor” IRL. I imagine it’s a comment on his stage of life: a study in what it takes to be successful. Maybe that’s a self-fragment at work too.

26^th December, 2011.
Monday

“Jewellery Store.”
I’m walking around a jewellery store, accompanied by a female, whom I acknowledge as present, even though I don’t notice her form. There’s some kind of problem. I seem to have left some pearl earrings there that I purchased in another store. I retrieve them but there’s perhaps some anxiety that I’ll be considered a thief.

A snippet: a tall, young, attractive woman with a lot of authority instructing an underling to look after somebody important. Still seems to be a shop context.

“Spiritualist Circle.”
I’m sitting on the floor. I decide I wish to start a spiritualist circle and ask the nearest woman milling with some other women if she wishes to join. She does and so she sits on the floor opposite me. She is thin, has straight, mousy-blond hair and she’s about my age. My thoughts turn to how we’ll run this circle and how large we’ll allow it to become but she’s off on her own tangent and begins to channel information. I listen to her respectfully. It appears she’s giving a street name; she says “Jaime Street.” I tell her I know a Jaime and we can ask her to join our circle if she likes, perhaps we can use Skype to include her.

“Serial Rapist.”
Now the dream has become movie-like. I see a serial criminal carrying an unconscious woman over his shoulder and I hear a younger person beside me commenting on the movie. He says, “What’s he gonna do, eat her?” The criminal opens a hatch door to an underground cellar and carries his victim down to where three other women lie. They are bound in such a way as to remind me of pupae. It becomes clear that this criminal’s thing is to impregnate these women but there’s no explanation as yet as to why. I begin to wonder about the likelihood of such a scenario, as I would if I watched such a movie in waking reality. My first thought is to wonder about the level of vitamin D deprivation the women would experience in their subterranean prison and I wonder if the woman would be able to conceive or even carry babies to term bound and laying on the dirt ground as they are. I ask myself if he’s even feeding them.

27^th December, 2011.
Tuesday

“The Colleague.”
I’m waiting at a bus stop with an older woman. While I don’t have a distinct vision of her appearance, I have a real sense of it nonetheless. She is older, with dark brown hair, a matronly body and, I feel, she wears something akin to a shawl that gives her a gipsy feel. I treat her as though she is my work colleague, though there is nobody like her at work, and we’re on our way to a teacher conference at the university.

I’m unhappy because Megan S has reduced her days at St J’s and is working casually at my school on her day off. It is unacceptable to me that she should bring her form of manipulation and disruption to our school after making my life and the lives of others so miserable at our last school. I’m telling the older woman about it, saying that she just won’t comprehend all the things M has done and the kind of damage of which she’s capable.

A bus arrives and, curiously, I see two magazines in its rims. I pick one out and look at its glossy cover, feeling it’s perfectly okay that I do so – it’s for me. Post dream I feel this was supposed to make an impression on me, that there’s something I was meant to receive from it like a rote (an information package) but I doubt I’m focused enough because I have no recollection beyond receiving it and then asking the colleague if she wants it. She does, so I pass it to her. The magazine, like a book or computer is usually an indication of mental plane access for me but I suspect I don’t make it all the way on this occasion.

Now I’m on a train. Momentarily I see the seats are facing towards where the window would be but we’re still moving. There’s no sense of anything in front of us where the train wall would be and no view or wind rushing past. I hear two people talking on my left. A girl asks her father, does he think ghosts are real. I lean forward, so as to speak past the person nearest me and assure them they are, that I’ve seen them with my own eyes. Then I laugh, “I don’t mind telling you, I don’t care if you think I’m crazy because I’ll never see you again. It means nothing to me what you think of me.” They laugh in agreement.

Now we’ve reached the platform and I realize I have one boot off. I’m struggling to put it on as the colleague disembarks. There’s no reason I shouldn’t get off though: I have time. I get to the doors but the train won’t slow enough for me to get off and follow my colleague who knows the way to the in-service, the room numbers and the schedule of events. There’s a station guard at the door of the train and I ask him to tell the driver to stop, that it isn’t fair not to stop fully and properly at the station. The master is stubborn – he will not let me pass. I sigh in resignation and ask him how long until the next stop. He replies an hour, much to my surprise. I’m calculating how late I’ll be getting to the conference and wondering if it’s worth it, if I’ll even know where to go without my colleague to guide me.

“The Second Effort”
I’m with my eldest son, F, and we’ve disembarked a train and walking towards Sydney University. Our mood is happy and positive but I tell him I’m unsure of the rooms and the schedule and will need to work it out when we arrive.

Now I’m arrived but F has disappeared and I’m carrying a large, sleeping, baby. He’s about 18 months old and naked. All I seem to have is a sheet to wrap him but he’s hard to wrap because he’s become so heavy and I don’t feel I can sit down because I’m searching for the place I need to be. At the same time, I need to take responsibility for him. I feel he hasn’t been fed for too long and must be given some fluids. I’m searching among lockers where I feel I’ll find something for him but I can’t recall a locker number and I’m vaguely wondering why I even think I have a locker as I don’t remember getting one. I briefly wonder if I should breastfeed him but I feel heavily resistant to that notion. I’m getting confused, walking around corners and finding yet more lockers. The baby is a heavy weight and I wonder why I don’t have a stroller for him; I carry him poorly, his legs dangling. All the while he sleeps. I’m aware too of people at counters, assistants watching my lack of progress and others milling past. It doesn’t occur to me they might help me.

Notes: Before bed I vaguely asked for a leading edge of growth dream but since this request invariably leads to a dream I can’t remember, I asked them to bring it down a notch or two to something I would recall. There’s a long first dream that is totally forgotten now, erased by the memory of “The Colleague” dream, which is a shame because it was more pleasant IIRC. Hopefully it’ll come back as the day unfolds.

The second dream seems to end with a gatekeeper experience, while “The Second Effort” gets me to my destination but then I’m impeded by the weight of an astral elemental. I suspect the elemental is a result of current concerns about my almost-eighteen-year-old leaving home for uni.

I do take away the necessary information that I must forgive the ghosts of the past and overcome fear that such things can touch me again in my present if I’m to unburden myself and progress. Tomorrow will be a good test as I’ll see some of my former colleagues who still work with M. It also occurs to me that I shouldn’t worry about F’s living arrangements and lack of personal income until problems arise.