Dear reader, this came as a confusing journal entry for me.
I suddenly woke up and fumbled around trying to find my flashlight on the side table.. I wasn’t sure if I was waking from a dream or a deep meditative state. I didn’t understand what my emotions were or what had just happened to me.
I was awake enough to find my way to the kitchen, while not disturbing the dogs and got a glass of water. I checked the fire in the cast-iron stove, it was still crackling but it had dwindled significantly from the time I had gone to bed. I left the doors on the stove open and put a small log on the fire. I guessed it was around 2, maybe 3 in the morning.
I looked outside the kitchen window, all was very quiet, I had an urge to go outside
and look at the night sky but for the moment I just needed to sit down and recover. There’s an old art deco chair in front of the fire, upholstered in a soft velvety green and I enjoyed sitting surrounded by its wise and comforting arms.
Now, I recalled that I was meditating in my dream and remembered having a heavy sinking feeling, not scary, just foreign. I couldn't move and it felt like I'd been turned into the rock beneath me, granite, hard and sparkling. Weighted down with the legacy of old, with life brimming everywhere.
I was a part of the dark core of this place, lights were moving around in a slow sparkle. An unseen hand offered me a branch with tiny buds that cast brilliant blossoms of light. I was without any understanding of this gift other than I felt like granite being warmed by sunshine and the wonder of it woke me.
So now, here I was, just sitting by a warm fire in the arms of this chair, feeling safe and enjoying the odd wonder of this place. I drank my water and felt a great need for sleep.
I’m off to bed, dear reader, and look forward to making more sense of this journal page tomorrow.
