Dream: Visit from the Alien Spacecraft

dream 20020305: Visit from the Alien Spacecraft

I’m sitting on the back lawn, but it’s not this house – the back lawn overlooks a slope leading down to a beautiful valley. The lawn itself is a smooth expanse of grass, no trees or flowerbeds. A sleek looking space craft appears, apparently from nowhere, and does some maneuvers in the air before settling to the ground. A door opens up, and I can see people inside, but then the door closes, and it lifts off and goes away.

Then another ship lands, but in a different place – I recognize this one as being a US craft. I go toward it as it opens – this one opens by the top lifting up from the bottom, and there are people inside. One of them comes out, and grabs me by the arm – he wants information on the other craft. I try to explain to him that it just landed briefly and I didn’t even hear any of them speak, but the man keeps wanting information. A crew comes out of the craft and starts measuring and marking where the alien craft had landed; it left a patterned brand mark on the grass that looks like a plan of the ship. Now it seems like it’s inside and not outside any more; there is a big crowd gathering around us, watching the men measuring and photographing the landing marks. I think it’s just a phase shift, though; I don’t think they covered the yard. There is a man here, and he asks me about how the Turtle Creek Chorale is doing; I tell him that they’re doing fine, just had a good concert season… he points a remote control at an area of empty space, and a screen pops down – there is a picture there of a young man carrying what looks like three paintings hinged together, but larger than a usual trypich. On the back of one of them, it says BMP3 – he’s apparently British Majesty Paul the Third. It’s like a news interview – he’s explaining that he’s giving this piece of artwork to America to help out; he says, “And because your plane got saudered and mine didn’t.”

Then the screen rolls up and disappears. The people are about to leave – I tell them that they had better do something to protect the land site if they want to keep people from walking on it – there is quite a crowd here, but they seem totally disinterested in the land site, they are just having a party. The guys from the US space craft place some little signs around the land area – they have “KEEP CLEAR” printed on them in block letters, and then above that is written “DANGER” – but it’s broken up, so that some signs have DA and some hav NG and some have ER, and some have just one letter. This part is written in black marker. They remind me of the signs that they use in the bin at McDonald’s to mark when food was prepared.

Dream: Waymark and Jupiter

Last night was an active dreaming night.

dream 20020305: Waymark and Jupiter.

This dream was hauntingly beautiful.

It begins as a sort of travelogue – I hear my voice, as if I am reading out my travel diary. I am traveling with someone – we sleep outdoors under the stars, and I can see our walking sticks silhouetted against the moon-bright sky. His is shaped like the sigil for Jupiter; mine is more like a serpent, or a sign showing curves in the road. I think that’s where I got our names; Waymark and Jupiter.

As I am lying beside him one night, drifting up from sleep, I lean over and whisper to him that Cuhullain has whispered to me in my dreams. It seems very significant to me, but he is very sleepy and doesn’t want to listen.

Then I finally return to my people. I realize that I’m a woman – long hair and a dress. We are a Goddess-worshipping folk. I am telling my people the tale of my journeys – and I tell about Cuhullain whispering to me. I am walking along beside a bunch of square holes, almost like soldier trenches, in the ground – I am banging my shield against them in a pattern, and I say something about how there was much banging of shields among the Saxons.

Then I lie down on what looks like the seat part of a picnic table. There are people sleeping on similar benches; there is stuff piled on the table parts. I have to draw up one knee so that the person who is sleeping at the other end has room; we both sleep in a position like the tarot Hanged Man. The person at the other end is my daughter. She is composing a song about my journeys, chanting it softly as she works. She says something about how Minerva had smiled on me, and how she was proud of me – I look up, and see a young woman with blond hair and a red velvet dress – I am suprised to be able to see the red glowing in the moonlight . The girl dashes off; I ask who it is, and my daughter tells me a name; it is just one of the children, but I think that I saw a vision of the Goddess in her for a moment.