Carnivore Dreams Day Thirty-Five

Today as I write this (actually yesterday now as this is posted–I post a day late) is the anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.  We are four miles (as the crow flies) from the big lake. This is no lake to mess with.  When I taught in Marquette, she claimed a couple lives a year–usually students thinking they could walk out to the rocks in Little Presque Isle.  But occasionally, someone who should know better.   It’s clearly posted.  We play Gordon Lightfoot (I love that guy) and pay tribute to those lost as I sip my coffee.  They had gale warnings out every day the last week.

Here is how it looks out my window today so you can see how treacherous our weather can be even this early:

So we plow today–or tomorrow a.m.  More on the way.

Food today:  3 cans sparkling water and filtered water along the way.  A pot of organic half-cut black coffee.  Bacon and eggs late morning.  We’ll roast a chicken for evening–a good day to smell it roast.  I do them slow and long, basting very twenty minutes.  My husband and son will have an acorn squash as well.  I’ll snack on smoked oysters or sauté a few shrimp.

Dreamwork:  I ponder my reading from yesterday. I continue to be fascinated by the overlap between dreams and the future, how often they seem to be prophetic.  Whether this is a spiritual experience or a marvel of physics doesn’t matter to me.  What matters is it’s clear our souls are set free from the constraints of Time, our misperceptions of it, and a “reality” that may or may not be more “realistic.”  This overlap of dreaming and premonition and spirituality (and spirits) and physics–the way the universe wags–never ceases to take one’s breath away.  I remain convinced that our “dreamwork” (as Freud would call it, but as Jung certainly understood better) is a passport to a fuller experience of existence.  Keeping our conscious and unconscious separate is likely the biggest reason we humans don’t feel “whole” no matter what we do or who we love.  I also think contrary to the idea that understanding our dreams is a narcissistic/self absorbed endeavor, I think it is the unconscious trying to connect to the universe when we are reluctant to.  A true freeing of our constraints.

Last night I dreamed again about a tent.  Third time.  This time it seemed to just be a smaller covering for a produce stand.  Since I dreamed twice before about a Big Top collapsing, I am starting to check the news for these types of disasters.  Or paying special attention to this as metaphor.  Of course, last night could mean I just am craving a melon or some wild blueberries or even a ripe tomato!  (But I woke with no desire for any of it).

Happy Sunday for you (Saturday for me).