In my dream, I climbed into the back seat when I saw movement. Two newly emerging monarch butterflies from cocoons nestled around the edges of the back window. I remember nearly forgetting about the monarch caterpillar my son and I found so long ago at the park one day (which never really happened in waking life either). One of these must be that same caterpillar.
I reached out and began helping the one still stuck in the cocoon when I saw a spider on the back window inches from my face. I almost left it, until I realized this particular spider may potentially harm the butterflies. I grabbed a CD case and squished it. I cupped both butterflies, flapping in my hands with gentle flutters and brought them in my home.
This was my home in the dream only, the first two rooms empty (I never saw the other rooms, but I knew they were filled and lived in). I only just moved in. I let them loose and started calling for my son. That was when I noticed the first room was actually an indoor porch in desperate need of cleaning. There was an obstacle course of broken furniture and old junk, nothing in particular that stood out except for all the spider webs that might snag my butterflies.
However, none of these webs worried me. It wasn’t that I knew they couldn’t catch my butterflies. It was more like they were natural and presented no danger to them; as though they were butterfly beds instead. I went through the open door into the first room of my home. It needed cleaning as well, but it was empty and only dimly lit. It only needed a good sweep and mop job. There were a few dried leaves on the floor.
The most notable and worrisome feature were two large, black bumblebees. They flew around each other in circles and almost looked more like gigantic flies instead. I normally like bumblebees, but these two were intruders and I believed they posed a danger, if not by stinging, I knew they might feed on, or at least slam into and damage my butterflies.
Interesting enough, while I chased the bees around with the first object I could find (it was slow and awkward, too much airflow resistance), my cat Mew came in the front room briefly. He’s our orange kitty. Usually Yin might feature in my more symbolic dreams (she’s my black cat, Mew is technically my husband’s). I briefly pictured him posing a danger to the butterflies and just as quickly dismissed it. He ignored the one now flying into the room completely.
He tried helping with the bees though when they zoomed closer to the ground. That’s when I found our fly swatter and upgraded my weapon. My front room butterfly was at least safe as long as I kept the beeflies distracted. I knew the one still on the front porch was perfectly safe, despite the mess out there.
I woke just as I smacked one beefly in midair. The dream held background noise, but none of it felt important.
Upon waking, I researched the symbols that stood out. My first hit for Monarch Butterflies was this interesting post: Butterfly Dreams — The Monarch. Very interesting. It reminds me, yesterday was horrible…to start with.
I went to bed Saturday and laid there, praying to the divine force I’ve felt in many areas throughout my life from Christian churches growing up, to a friend’s Wiccan prayer circle to mother Earth for planetary healing, to simply being in the woods and admiring the miracle and inclusive feeling of life and nature. I’m agnostic for a reason.
I once, in recent years, finally prayed for something personal. So many people suffer around the world, far more than I ever have. After a certain age, I never prayed for personal things, only other people. On that day though, I felt lost on my life path, wondering if I truly wasted my time with this writing thing. I spent several moment in thankfulness for what I have, and then simply asked for a little guidance. You know me, I thought to this force. I’m hard-headed about my own worth and abilities. Just, please, I don’t know, a sign, one even I can’t deny. Am I wasting my time with this writing thing? Is my purpose elsewhere?
Almost immediately after, I found my very first super-praising, hard-core fan online, gushing over my writing. Not a relative I could dismiss as loving it because it came from me. A new member of my writing group at the time. A stranger. I was always the cheerleader, I never really had one of my own before. She goes by Ash on the internet, by the way. I value my writing buddies and mentors, my supportive family members, and many others who have supported my writing and provided feedback and critiques. Ash was the sign though, out of nowhere.
She currently studies somnology, she gets very busy during school. As much as she cheerleads my work, she’s pretty amazing and inspiring as well. My current, primary writing buddy, Kyrias/Katje, is also such a blessing. The bit of writing I do is because missing her while I game drags me back into writing every time.
Anyway, I reached a similar point in my life Saturday. I’ve been struggling with how little I’ve invested in my writing regardless of that moment over a year or two ago. I hate disappointing my gaming friends, a few of which recently returned to the game that swallowed most of my free time since 2005. I’ve been feeling the stronger pull toward writing for a while now.
My husband’s leg started acting up again. He dislikes when I tell others, so I won’t say much more. It just makes me wish we had enough to get him everything medical he needs for this, or at least the time off he needs for more thorough recovery every time his legs act up again. I remembered Ash and how I felt recently about my writing. You know I rarely contact you for me. I honestly believe Ash was your last answer. I should be writing. You also know how indecisive I am. What project might be more successful? I’ve no idea what to work on, I just know I’m so thankful for the home life you’ve given me. My husband and son are wonderful and they at least deserve better. I’ll do the work, but maybe a hint on the right project when I wake up?
Careful what you ask for! I woke up and found a recent friend on facebook changing her mind about a discussion we had. Long story there short (especially since this is long enough), she posted an all-caps, (about) 12-line paragraph cursing out the type of person she kept misinterpreting me as. I understand why that type of person makes her angry, she had a good reason. BUT, I also knew she mislabeled me as that type, so I was currently the primary, unmentioned target of her all-caps, violently expressed insults.
I ended the friendship as calmly as I could, apologized, wished her a nice life, unfriended, then blocked her. Then I cried. A lot. This isn’t the first time a friend connection went south and ended with flung insults (though it was the worst) of being a moron in some fashion. I thought maybe I really was a moron. Maybe all my ideas and thoughts were really just very bad and idiotic and my other friends were always too nice to say so. Maybe they just bide their time until I slide back into cheerleader mode, the quicker to be rid of my “intelligent” thoughts and ideas. Don’t stop reading because of the pity party!
Katje helped talk me out of this, making her a bit late to the farmer’s market errand she needed to run (thanks again, by the way!). My husband also helped a LOT when he returned home after work.
Anyway, before that help, I googled “How do you know when it’s something wrong with you?” I also thought Okay, what am I supposed to learn from this? I should work on better phrasing? The first google result was 10 Ways I Know There’s Nothing Wrong With You or Me. LOL! That’s a first! Usually you hear about depressing search results when they differ a bit from what you typed. I read this and thought, but it also applies to my former friend as well.
I walked around with very little energy. I need to eat something. It’s after 2pm. Michael’s already eaten twice. I didn’t want any of our food (too processed) and the grapes tasted weird. I put tater tots in the oven. Still too processed, but at least something. I thought about laying down until the timer dinged. I trudged back to my desk for a drink first and felt one of the most bizarre sensations ever.
First, I felt very nauseated, but it passed quickly. Immediately following that, my posture straightened and my heart beat harder, just once. I felt lighter, but not quite light-headed, as though my posture bent naturally before from a weight. Now it straightened and my whole body felt lighter because nothing rested on my shoulders any more. I no longer felt tired. The most striking difference in feeling, however, was my upper chest and the bottom half of my neck. It felt shielded by titanium, a difference that made its former state feel raw and far too open.
I swore so hard the bones there were not that strong before that I asked my son to come over so I could compare the general state. Bewildering. Oh, there’s a solid bone structure here, a sternum, was it always that strong? Of course there’s a sternum. Why does it feel like these bones are new?
It seemed as silly to my logical mind, but also still profound and new. My posture was naturally so much straighter that it began hurting my back. I also noticed that I felt skinny despite my excess weight; healthy, rather than hugely bloated. My first thoughts…someone helped me shield something…or prayed for me, right at that exact moment.
Chakras stuck in my head though. I researched them and found a few pages, one that suggested viewing each one as an open flower in meditation, then closing them to buds after. They claimed that chakras left open served as a beacon for negative spirits and forces like moths to a flame. I can’t find that one now. I did, however, find this chart about closed and too-open chakras.
Last time I found an alternative, active sort of spiritual healing, the results took my breath away and pretty much healed my PTSD with repetition (Cord cutting). I learned this from a fellow empath on facebook, Kris Bethea. I believe I will post soon on that technique for those interested. I also felt a build-up in energy. Any time I sat down, my whole body felt twitchy with a need for movement. I got up and decided on moving meditation. Combination clear-my-head and exercise.
I called that list with colours back up and pictured each point, a flower unfurling open. I expected more difficulty given the first site’s description. Some were already opened in my imagination, others flew open as soon as I got there (like books bent backward in an open position on one page for too long–next time you open them, springs straight there).
My husband came home at that point. All shields were down and he helped my heart with the remaining pain. My mouth ran, quite a lot. When I feel emotional, usually it closes off my ability at vocal communication. I struggle with crying so hard I can barely speak. Both were in sync at that point, heart pouring it through my throat and out my mouth. After he helped me feel much MUCH better, Pounce (one of our cats) gave me my exercise cue by stepping on the game mat and starting a random song.
After exercise, I showered. I pictured gunk flowing away from me and clearing up into positive at my feet. I cut cords all around, swept them away, flung them over the horizon in each direction. I pictured the negative threads losing power until dissipating and flying up into the air in the distance as fireworks of cleansed and renewed energy. I added those visuals to my routine because I got it in my head that I didn’t want those threads attaching to other people in that direction.
That got Katy Perry’s Fireworks stuck in my head. I sung it haha (hey, I like singing, normality is just a bunch of rules in the way of fun and acceptance, and I was alone anyway). I’m playing it now just because. My focus then returned to the chakra flowers. I meditated on each one, fanning out the petals, picturing each dusted off. Then I pictured them twisting closed into little coloured buds. Then, for extra healing measure, I pictured a bubble of protection around each. Red, orange, yellow proved difficult and dirty in my imagination, almost damaged and fragile, though large. It responded to shielding the least and took a lot longer to see any kind of solid bubble around.
I reached green, at the heart, and cried at how large it was, how pretty and vibrant despite the day. Green is my favourite colour. Maybe for this reason? My favourite part of people? She closed into a bud far easier than I expected after yellow and the extra bubble shield was very comforting.
Blue. Green’s been choking you off a while now, scared you’ll hurt someone like today. Scared family may reject your heart…what we’re doing now, the oneness you feel in so many places besides church. Stronger than the church. God, goddess, oneness, the divine’s true face. The personal connection. We are the temple because that light isn’t just out there, it literally is part of us. We are part of it and each other. Funny, I learned that in a pentecostal church, but they still talked like it was all separate anyway. Blue closed in a gentle swirl, trusting my heart wouldn’t strangle it so much. Bubble shield, no more vines from the heart around you.
Violet, right at the third eye. When I got here, the flower looked different. With closed eyes, I saw it as an after-image, like I’d been staring at a flower-shaped light. It vibrated and pulsed up there. Far more of a purple light than mental imagery, more 2D, flat, just like an after-light in your vision. I had no real idea. I stared in at it. How do I furl that closed? It pulsed larger, then smaller, a bud. I shielded it.
I reached the crown. Okay, a white light on top of my head. So a large white…flower? I trailed off in my mind too because, as I spoke it and started imagining it, I found that unnecessary. There it was. Like a large white and glowing waterlily with my scalp as the lilypad. I shook from the power and sobbed in the shower. Hard. Not a small flower like the others. This one was as large as my head and beautiful. The most gorgeous thing I’ve ever imagined, let alone seen. We all have one of these up here? My lip is quivering as I write this now. I cried far stronger spiritual release tears at that moment than I ever have before. Yes, even in church when I was Christian, for those who think I’ve finally stepped fully on Satan’s turf.
God, however you envision that force, whatever gender, personified, or not…. As a Christian, I was always taught how ugly and unworthy we all were…and yet, somehow, we’re special to God. It wasn’t until I saw that flower that I realized how wrong that first part is. We’re part of the garden. The force that ties us all together is what we sense as our higher power. Our petals might get dirty, damaged, and wilted, maybe even become weed-like to other flowers within ourselves or to others’. However, we’re still a special part in the garden, each of us. The divine force works through us using these spiritual centers and our more corporeal existence.
One problem I’ve had with the God I was taught growing up…so many make horrible excuses for all the bad things in life that happen. Excuses like: God cleansed them away, anyone who experiences bad things deserved them, they’re Godless heathens, they didn’t pray hard enough, or pray right, or believe enough. I can’t reconcile that. I’ve felt pain and hardship. I can’t eplain it away like that, not even if it was just a test, or a hardship to help me pull others through the same experience…why not just stop the hardships? Why test us then send us to eternal torment when we fail? Isn’t life hard enough? Isn’t the truth confusing and hidden enough already?
Instead, this divine spirit I feel connecting us all…we’re part of its actions.
Suffering and evil exist because not enough of us on the physical ground of this garden prevent it, for whatever reasons. We’re one of the best physical tools for the corporeal world. Each with our own purpose. Some tools appear more useful than others, but only because their job is more obvious, or more crucial at a certain moment in time.
My job is storing telling and communicating, possibly even healing one day. Not nearly as heroic as some directly on a spiritual battlefield of negative vs. positive forces, helping other crown-flowers find the sunlight. However, I can’t imagine life without great storytellers and artists either. I think such a life lacks inspiration. We’re the light rain. The rain doesn’t plow, sow, fertilize, transplant, fight back pests, or a large portion of other things keeping the garden healthy. It provides a cool drink of life to the thirsty. I hope my contributions are as worthy as storytellers before and after.
After I finished being awestruck, I let my crown-flower furl closed with great reluctance. I remembered the beacon for negativity moths though. My personal buds in the garden are still too inexperienced. I pictured a protective bubble around the large white bud, then I finished my shower (the only guilty part–how much water I wasted! Yikes!). Somehow, I know I won’t need that much water again. I don’t consider it a waste…more like an impromptu baptism of sorts…I still felt badly enough for a silent apology.
Then, at a decent time last night, I went to bed. I woke with the monarch dream in my head this morning.
I also just wrote way more than intended. I haven’t even finished looking at my dream and the meanings. Interesting the first monarch butterfly meanings should mention the orange, sacral chakra. Two butterflies for the 2nd chakra. To quote Siannaphey’s linked post above: “The sacral’s main chakra meanings relate to the feeling of emotions (self-confidence, one’s power), sensuality, security, commitment and honour in relationships and clairsentience or clear feeling.”
I’ve been sorely lacking in self-confidence. I pull in from the fear it causes way more often than I should. I distract myself from writing with video games instead during my free time. I frequently feel powerless, especially recently with my perpetually jobless state and my husband’s chronic leg condition flaring up again.
I looked up the number two and its meaning. A bit for any family still reading this…just because non-western culture came up with something, doesn’t mean it’s not of the force we call God. We’re not the chosen people, nor are we the only gentiles to feel a connection to this and name it from our own personal understanding. Aside from that, keep Joseph the dreamer in mind.
I’m about to touch on numerology, it’s the oldest meaning-by-numbers system around that I know of. The definition of 2 from numerology.com also made me cry, more tears of relieved truth, like in the shower. It lost me a bit with Hera and somewhat with the end where the negative was only partially applicable to my past self (I’m generally not vindictive or vengeful.
When you lose my loyalty or betray my trust, I’m just done and I turn my back completely, rather than waste more energy in your direction). Perhaps the black bee-fly things were fears or people I’ve encountered that I fear may not let me turn away and harbor a spirit of vindictive vengeance toward me?
Or maybe I am and that’s still buried so deep I only see it with my past self, regarding the man who molested me. Yeah…until recently I actively wished his bad karma on him soon. Now…I hope he improves as a person for the benefit for others. I don’t actively hope he has a miserable life whenever I think of him…but I don’t hope his life is good either. Also, I think of him far less now.
Either way, it was the beginning half-coupled with the butterflies that resonated. I do a LOT of bending. I also feel constantly under-estimated, especially by my inner critic. She’s frequently a loud-mouthed bitch too, especially if she has help from other people.
Bumblebees, apparently, may represent hidden dangers. They were really just the size of bumblebees though. They were all black and flew and buzzed around each other more like giant flies. Flies, according to a random dream journal (that I just realized was the 2nd google result) represent: “Nuisance, neglect, filth, or feelings of being unclean. Flitting from one place or activity to another.”
These two definitely represent negative in me more than the number two’s negatives. Hopefully not “nuisance” so much, but I’ve definitely been feeling unworthy and neglecting life’s directional pull. When it comes to thinking of writing, I most definitely flit around all over the board from one activity to another, unsure on which one I should land and focus. When I smacked one fly before waking, I was somehow up in the air, like I was floating and flying around as well, now that I think on it.
I got up on a ladder at the edge of the room and then just followed the flies around swatting at them in the upper half of the room, all over it, without a ladder, but also without a sense I was doing something unusual. I believe I swatted the one fly successfully out of the air near the middle of the room. I never bothered looking up “room” because I already felt sure this was my inner home of some sort, whether in general, or my creativity, my “work” room or my “spirit” room…maybe both. Given what I said about garden tasks, probably both.
The porch out front is messy. Spiders, in particular, their webs, represent creativity (spinning a tale). My butterflies and creativity need to get along, so it makes perfect sense I hold no concern if the butterfly out there should land in a web. I need it to find one of those webs and focus on it. The mess is because of how cluttered and dusty and rusty my field of creative ideas is. As they exist now, many are just in pieces, in boxes, broken furniture I can’t sit on, many collect dust. The webs might be the new ideas I planted among all the old clutter. That certainly explains why they were thick and white in random spots of things covered in grey dust.
At 33, I suppose you could say I am approaching mid-life. I’m near the center of the room and I just found the right tool and smacked down the fly of neglect and unworthiness. Now I just need to smack down the fly of focus. I woke up. Now I need but choose the idea I focus on before I swat that fly down as well.
Hah! Maybe this means all my current ideas are a worthy pursuit! Or maybe I’m tying this way too much into writing and not enough on healing to help my family’s financial situation? Maybe the clue lies elsewhere in a dream detail? I squashed the spider (a perceived threat, rather than creativity, I think) with an undetailed music CD (I love singing…or maybe it’s an idea tied with music…or my blog itself!)…cat, Mew in particular. I believe it was Mew, our only orange cat, for the same reason it was orange Monarch butterflies–the 2nd chakra. The same dream dictionary says cat: “Independent, having strong ideas about how things should be, lithe and adaptable, mysterious”
A main character that possesses these qualities? An idea that expresses how I think things should be? My most recent new idea, Fairy Tale Shuffle comes to mind. Everyone has a story (the leading theme). That resonates. Orange is: “Bold, outgoing, assertive, invigorated and/or Autumn, or the “winding down” of a phase or cycle” Hm…the main character is bold, outgoing, assertive, and invigorated.
But that last fly could represent the need to smack down one idea as well as the idea smacked down. Flitting from one place to another could represent my world-reality-portal-hopping idea, Order of Chaos.
A more obvious, meta-indicator is the large update the dream just inspired…writing something new that incorporates these ideas. Maybe some day…but I think I’m feeling a pull more toward recent ideas. Maybe a few ideas and not just one. Fairy Tale Shuffle keeps popping in my head. Then again…I chased those flies all over that room. If the middle represents the middle of my life, then that idea was all over the edges as well. THAT idea would be Order of Chaos, my oldest idea, recently rejuvenated.
Pretty handy I’ve been considering putting the main character from Fairy Tale Shuffle into my private Storium game “Into Chaos” based on the portal system from Order of Chaos. Got it dream, thanks for the message and direction. Better get started…right after I cook dinner, yikes, this post took nearly six hours!
PS Not saying I’m done with video games. I played Pokémon a little this morning as I ruminated on my dream. I’ve got my personal quest now. Gotta raise my cooking skill, get my food buff, then aim for this expansion’s level cap. I think I at least hit the first expansion’s cap yesterday. I just got a little lost today by all the newly downloaded content.
I’d love to hear any thoughts or comments you had while reading this. Ever experience something similar? Have questions? Input? Need more input! Johnny 5 is alive! Wait…wrong movie. Talk at me in comments!
Butterfly icon at the beginning of this post made and copyrighted by Starrceline. Please credit her if you use it. Thanks, Starrceline, so pretty!