Sleep Dream. I’m in a funky apartment. Perhaps a row-house affair, one story. It is cluttered in an artsy way. I‘m not certain why I’m here. It’s some sort of gathering. If a party, it’s not loud and boozy. Not a lot of people present, mostly, if not all, women, Kind of a Naropa-esque crowd. There is a woman there who reminds me of Inguna, but is rounder. Kind of like the hispana who organized the fashion show at Walnut Foundry. [D and I worked on the „Shooting Blanks“ script yesterday.] She is very warm and sincere when she talks to me. She seems to be the one who lives in the apartment. She shows me her child, a daughter of three months. The infant is tiny. She looks like a newborn, all red, her face drawn tight. She is quiet, sleeping, wrapped in a white, 1950’s fuzzy blanket. Her mother feels a strong connection to me. It is very important for her that I see her child. I like mom’s attitude: she loves her daughter and takes the best care of her, but the role of Mother is not her identity. She is a full human. Humor sparkles in her eyes. She can and does make Connection with me.
Dream Associations. The fashion show gal was at Plus Gallery’s five year gala. She made full-on eye contact with me, and gave me a big smile, like she was truly glad to see me. Very surprising.
No males in the dream. No father of the infant. A women’s space, but not hostile toward me, nor exclusionary. Nor was I the Rescuing Knight.
The mother possessed a
Grounded Knowingness. She was savvy and soulful. She definitley wanted to Connect with me, but was not pushy in the least, or needy.