I woke up several times. It seems like a pattern in the first half of a chemo cycle. When I am asleep, and then not, I perceive more directly. I feel the bubbling, tingling sensation running through my abdomen, a tightness in my lower back and intestines, that neuropathy is oddly down the center segments of my fingers rather than at the ends.
Cycle 4, Day 5. I am choosing the way I interpret the signs. Or, maybe I am just watching. The body is separate from the mind. The mind is separate from the watching. My perception checks the angles. I don’t want to control the path. I just want to see and experience the journey. The body is not at war with the cancer. It is cooperating with the chemotherapy.
In the last dream of the night, there was a baby opossum nested in the hair behind my neck. I was busy, and figured I would deal with that later. I was talking to someone about hair dye, and walked out the back door into the dark to grab the bleaching kit, then turned to see that the door locked. Someone zipped by on a bicycle, and I felt tension, a threat, but it was gone as quickly as the bike moved. I fumbled with a key, and opened the outer door into a glass sided mudroom. The space was closing in, Wonderland style, but I moved through it, into the house.
I figure the Eternal knows where to lead us for dream interpretation. I have a book that makes me laugh as often as it actually helps. The quick bottom line: I feel threatened by something that I am going through, but it passes quickly. I am moving through a tight spot, but not stuck there. I have the key. There is something (something?) that is a deception, but will clear, and shift color.
Well, for that last line, I wasn’t going to bleach the possum, but that seems related none the less.
I am choosing my interpretations. It does seem strange, like a side line to manifestation without the directive nature of control. The mind is not fond of it. But the noticing seems more “in tune”… like there is less pressure and more merging with the Whole. Like opening the eyes, then opening them again.
micheleplumbstowell.org 