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capri0mniI know it was morning, and not the middle of the night, because the dream was interrupted (and influenced, when I got back to it) by the rising sun shining through my bedroom window and half-waking me up...
Many years ago, when I was in my late teens, or early twenties, I had a wizard as a recurring character in my dreams: long, blue robe, white beard, tall peaked hat with stars -- the works. He was often accompanied by an international "rainbow race" gaggle of children, and a great big, white shaggy dog. Each dream was different, but in each, the goal was the same: whereever they went, they had to find "the lost spell" that would solve whatever conflict presented itself in that particular dream.
Eventually, that basic scenerio inspired me to write a novel about "finding the lost spell" that would save magic itself, though the gaggle of children shrunk to two best friends, and the wizard became the elderly (from the kids' point of view) retired nextdoor neighbor, who, unbeknownst to them until the tipping point at the beginning of the story, also happened to study and practice ritual magic.
Once I started writing said novel, my dream wizard morphed into a muse character: appearing alone, to prod me in the right direction when a story I was working on got stuck.
Then, right when I was just beginning to try and get the novel published, my mother died, and I suffered a severe breakdown with writer's block. It wasn't the sort of breakdown that showed on the outside, but it was crippling, nonetheless (and I don't think I ever recovered from it, completely -- like a broken bone that doesn't quite heal right). And the wizard never appeared in my dreams again.
Until this morning.
In the bit of the dream I remember, I'm down in a deep hole, looking up into the light, and standing over that hole, looking down at me, is a tall, Gandolf-like wizard, except that his robes, and skin and beard are all tinted with gold (I think that might be the influence of the sun). He reaches down to pull me up, but a) I'm not sure I want to come out of the hole, just yet, because the light is too bright (cue waking up, and pulling the covers over my head, to block the sun that's shining right in my eyes), and b) I can't get a good, strong grip on his hand.
This repeats, as I wake up, roll over, and drift back to the dream, for a few times -- until I finally get a good grip, and he pulls me up. It's not into the bright light, but into a womb-like cave. And there, he gives me a really big, hard, hug. And then, I finally wake up properly.
... I'm getting a little lumpy-throated, thinking about it....
[ETA: I forgot to mention (even though I thought it, in-dream) that looking up at him was like looking up the trunk of a massive tree, and the folds in his robe were like the ridges in thick bark.]
Many years ago, when I was in my late teens, or early twenties, I had a wizard as a recurring character in my dreams: long, blue robe, white beard, tall peaked hat with stars -- the works. He was often accompanied by an international "rainbow race" gaggle of children, and a great big, white shaggy dog. Each dream was different, but in each, the goal was the same: whereever they went, they had to find "the lost spell" that would solve whatever conflict presented itself in that particular dream.
Eventually, that basic scenerio inspired me to write a novel about "finding the lost spell" that would save magic itself, though the gaggle of children shrunk to two best friends, and the wizard became the elderly (from the kids' point of view) retired nextdoor neighbor, who, unbeknownst to them until the tipping point at the beginning of the story, also happened to study and practice ritual magic.
Once I started writing said novel, my dream wizard morphed into a muse character: appearing alone, to prod me in the right direction when a story I was working on got stuck.
Then, right when I was just beginning to try and get the novel published, my mother died, and I suffered a severe breakdown with writer's block. It wasn't the sort of breakdown that showed on the outside, but it was crippling, nonetheless (and I don't think I ever recovered from it, completely -- like a broken bone that doesn't quite heal right). And the wizard never appeared in my dreams again.
Until this morning.
In the bit of the dream I remember, I'm down in a deep hole, looking up into the light, and standing over that hole, looking down at me, is a tall, Gandolf-like wizard, except that his robes, and skin and beard are all tinted with gold (I think that might be the influence of the sun). He reaches down to pull me up, but a) I'm not sure I want to come out of the hole, just yet, because the light is too bright (cue waking up, and pulling the covers over my head, to block the sun that's shining right in my eyes), and b) I can't get a good, strong grip on his hand.
This repeats, as I wake up, roll over, and drift back to the dream, for a few times -- until I finally get a good grip, and he pulls me up. It's not into the bright light, but into a womb-like cave. And there, he gives me a really big, hard, hug. And then, I finally wake up properly.
... I'm getting a little lumpy-throated, thinking about it....
[ETA: I forgot to mention (even though I thought it, in-dream) that looking up at him was like looking up the trunk of a massive tree, and the folds in his robe were like the ridges in thick bark.]
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Date: 2006-12-19 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 01:18 am (UTC)And (even though it feels a bit weird to think this): My mother was a definite Yang force in my life, and Father was a definite Yin force in my life (Dad had even said, several times: "Your mother was an activist, and I'm a pacifist"), so I can't help but wonder, now that Dad has also passed into the next phase of existance, that their respective influences in my life will now balance out, the way they were when both were living.
So I wonder if the return of my muse is part of that...
no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 06:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 06:06 pm (UTC)I sent it to your LJ email just now
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Date: 2006-12-20 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-20 06:07 pm (UTC)