Dreams are just the beginning of a much broader journey into the mystery of the unconscious realm. (Barbarah Hannah: Encounters with the Soul, Sigo Press 1981.)
My own journey into the mystery took a dramatic turn in November of 1997 when I dreamed that I was flying high above the planet, surveying the continents. A group of familiar spirit beings joined me and guided me to the atmosphere above Africa. They informed me that I was to follow four steps across Africa and Australia. Four threshold stones were then thrown down to the earth and I was told to stand upon each stone, wait for the ancients of each place to arrive and escort me across. What follows is the journal I wrote during each session of my active imagination work with this dream.
Active Imagination is a technique that Dr. Carl Jung re-discovered and applied in his own early work with the unconscious. It is the practice of returning to the scenario of a dream and re-entering it in a waking, conscious state for the purpose of engaging the dream figures, dynamics, etc. It takes practice and stamina to learn how to hold one’s focus, but in time an interactive relationship will develop between the waking dreamer and the characters of the dream. My experience with the technique has led to a widening of my awareness to include more than my waking eyes can usually perceive. It reveals the back story, if you will, to daily life and guides us along the way of our individual journeys toward wholeness. And here it is key to remember that wholeness includes the full spectrum from light to shadow – meaning that it is not always pretty. But this is the dance of forging relationship with our own souls and in time, each element of ourselves is to be met and ultimately integrated along this way of discovery.
Using the analogy of the dance, it is easy enough to take a position along the wall with our doubts and fears of embarrassment, not to mention plain madness. Carlos Castaneda reveals such a position in this dialogue with don Juan:
‘My argument was that the whole event could not have been a battle of power because it had not been real.
And what is real? Don Juan asked me very calmly.
This, what we’re looking at, is real, I said, pointing to the surroundings.
But so was the bridge you saw last night, and so was the forest and everything else.
But if they are real, where are they now?
They are right here. If you had enough power you could call them back. Right now, you cannot do that because you think it is very helpful to keep on doubting and nagging. It isn’t my friend, it isn’t. There are worlds upon worlds, right here in front of us.’
And so, without further ado, I invite you along on a journey into Africa, or what the Ancestors called, The Beginning of Time.
November 9
It is a snowy Sunday afternoon in Denver, and I am feeling as if you are pulling me by the hand, trying to get me to pay attention to the step upon which I am standing. Where do you wish me to start?
We are in the middle of Africa facing east on a savannah. Sun is high in the sky. Ma'tuk is standing by my right side. He holds his spear in his right hand as he searches the horizon.
A circle of elder men is approaching, wearing woven red blankets with black geometric designs. I feel rather white and contemporary, but they approach without comment. I look at my feet to see that both Ma'tuk and I are standing on the "step" which raises us just about an inch off the dry, golden dirt. The men in blankets stand and talk with one another. There are six of them. I am smiling. After a while they stop talking and move into a straight line, shoulder to shoulder, and look at us.
The smell and sound and light of this place is so familiar. How often have I been here? How often have I been with all of you? The elders smile and nod their heads. They seem amused at my dawning recognition. I feel frustrated by my own shortcoming, my own lack of conscious memory. All the same, I am aware that they want me to go deeper with them by following their lead. The moment I make this recognition, we are in a village of buildings constructed of sticks and mud. There are no people in this time, but I can see the people who once lived here.
It is like looking through a thin veil. The people behind the veil are robust and engaged in all the daily activities of their village life. Children run, women work and laugh with each other. The men are away. A dense jungle borders the village. Large animal eyes are gleaming in the shadows. One creature is large and more active than the others. He seems to have a grin on his face…
An old man sits apart from the village in a pelt that covers one shoulder. He is gray haired and very thin. He sits on the ground facing the jungle creature with eyes open but seeing into other realms. I can smell his skin and know that he is a kindred soul. I feel tears rising in my throat and eyes with the impact of meeting him again. He is so quiet and solid. He is the guardian of the village perimeter. I sit beside him and rock and cry quietly. He touches my knee with his hand. There are no words to express the sensation of his presence. I cannot explain how I know him except to use the phrase "from the beginning." I immediately leap into all of my questions about how I was ever separated from him, how I became so caught up in the world. I know that it is from him that I learned how to sit in one place and travel, and see, and do all that truly matters. It is from him that I learned love that never waivers. I know too that it is time to return to him and resume these lessons in seeing clearly.
November 14
I am immediately with the ancient man on the ground between the jungle and the village. The jungle is still there but now I am seeing beyond the veil of the jungle to a vast plain that sweeps to the horizon without interruption. The ancient man and I sit side by side. We are watching, and watching ourselves watch. The circle of six elders is behind us in an arc. My attention is drawn to the left of the center. There is a commotion of energy there. I feel my heart stirring with agitation. The ancient one places his right hand on my left knee and I return my focus to the central field where the view and I are one in the same.
I see that my own emotional turmoil over the details of my life has caused that commotion. It is like a mirage/illusion that causes my focus to be scattered. The six elders are nodding their heads in affirmation behind me. I settle into a still deeper place within the field the ancient one emanates. My arguments have no where to go, they have no basis in this field. Only love and its clear way of seeing are here.