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June O'Brien – Author . Fiction . Non Fiction . Poetry
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Ali Baba

3/31/2015

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Sometimes dreams seem to think I am smarter than I believe I am.  They send material I have to unpack.  When I finally do, I often feel amused.  Really, Dream Maker?  Ali Baba?  

Oh, yes, the secret code to opening the cave of treasure; the cave in which the slave girl saves her master and, thereby, frees herself.  "Didn’t you wonder, Dream Maker, if I’d remember to what the words Ali Baba refer?"  What faith she has in me.  Almost as much as I have in her.

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To this the Dream maker added another dream, closer to morning.  I was collecting light in much the same way I’d pick the berries from a bearberry plant.  Collecting light.  I think back to yesterday, to last evening, last week.  What is it that I’ve done, come to believe, made a decision about that warrants this amazing interpretation, reinforcement.  "Yes, dear dreamer, this is the path," the Dream Maker says.  "Continue.  Do more of this."

Of course, at the door there is always temptation. " But what about this?" the dreamer asks.  "And this.  How can I…?"  This is the temptation to fall back into an old template or pattern, to where we’ve been, the attempted  reassertion of what is finished. 

When dreams like these come leave questions behind.  Forge on.  Later, understanding will incorporate past certainties as well as past uncertainties.  There is a place for them.  After all, this is not a war, or even a conflict.  It is an offer accepted.  A decision.  A mystery embraced.  

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All Evidence to the Contrary 

3/16/2015

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I’ve had dreams before of watching material come across a boundary into earth’s dimensions, but more recently there have been more of these.  

I have learned to write those deep in the night dreams without entirely waking.  When morning comes I learn what I wrote, and it is only then that I remember.  Part of what I recall – sometimes – is the process, the interaction, with the source of the dream.  


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When the dream begins, I ‘see’ the information, or the dream, coming, but there is no language because the information is before language.  I ‘feel’ the struggle between me, the dreamer, and the source.  Finally, words do come, or images.  

When I am lucky I remember the way reality is before it becomes form or language – streams of color or waves of energy.  Any words or images I finally come up with are therefore not quite right, not the totality or completeness of what the dream intends.  Even though form finally comes, or words, I am aware they are approximation.  

These dreams are dense.  The next day, I speak them aloud to let the words work on me.  Understanding opens, but again, this may not be anything easily conveyed to someone else.  At the edge of consciousness, spirit works on me.  

This kind of dream is so deeply rooted in my soul that I do not readily tell others, but some of these dreams are meant for sharing, meant for anyone’s benefit.  They come through the dreamer – they are a gift – but the dreamer is a vehicle.  Jung spoke about this.  Still, I never tell all the details.  Never.    

There are more of these dreams right now, and I don't think this is entirely because I've just finished the book.  I think the doors are powerfully open.  Wide open.   Believe what comes.  Remember what my teacher said, "Believe the spirit, all evidence to the contrary."   

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    June O'Brien is an author of fiction, non fiction and poetry, living in the Pacific Northwest.

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We hunt the soul's path in the underbrush,
up the limestone hills, in the dark rivers between stars.
The Blue Child Series
June O'Brien – Author . Fiction . Non Fiction . Poetry
Shelton, WA 
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