[Updated 23 January 2003]
 

Three dreams:
 

19 November

My teacher comes to visit me at my family's house.  I greet him in the family room.  He gives me a brown paper bag containing three bottles of herbal tinctures.  The one I pull out to look at is labeled 'UEEI.'  I want to tell him what I have learned about consciousness and psi.  He does not give me a chance but quickly becomes amorous, kissing me and saying very suggestive things such as, I could sleep on top of you.  I teasingly scold him, Fine, talk like that right in front of my mother, as she and my sisters are also present.  He and I decide to walk outside, but first I go up to my bedroom to change clothes.  I have a hard time deciding what to wear, which causes a delay.  I am holding up my probable choice, a sleeveless tie-dyed dress and tie-dyed leggings, when he pokes his head in through the window and asks, Are you coming to me?  I tell him, Yes.
 

22 November

I am in Tibet with an unseen male friend who is my traveling companion.  We are in a temple.  We are introduced to a young Tibetan man with long hair who is a full-time religious and who, although he is very young for the honor, already occupies a high office in his order.  He looks at me directly and clearly shows interest.  He pulls aside the front of his robe to show his breasts, which have ordinary masculine nipples but very large rosy-gold aureoles.  Through gestures and finally words he signals that he is interested in pursuing a Tantric partnership with me.  He consults an oracle.  It seems to provide a negative answer, which he then shows to me in the form of an ink drawing.  I ask him if that means it will not happen, and he says, It’s up to you!  It’s a poetry day!  A Tibetan woman with long hair is now beside me.  She advises me that, because of distractions in my mind, the likely outcome of such a partnership for him would be disastrous, resulting in his being cast out of the order and left destitute.
 

24 November

Clive Barker is a guest speaker in a class I attend.  Sparks fly between us; soon he is standing close to me with his arm around my shoulders.  He asks another student who has brought one of his books, a long complex novel, to show me the verses that are included in the text.  I knew he also wrote verses.  He says, asking me to confirm it, that he understands that I care for others?  In a semi-official care-taker role, I assume he means, and I say Yes, although only in certain cases.  I am thinking of my Friend.  He comes home with me to spend the night.  He says Good night at 11:30 because he has to drive to Portland to the airport in the morning, but I am pretty sure he will be sleeping with me.
 

The same dream three times:  After the first time, I asked for clarification; the second and third are responses to my request.  The answer was there all along in the tie-dyed dress I was about to put on.  The Tibetan nobleman who came in a dream to offer Tantric instruction over a year and a half ago was dressed in two long pieces of tie-dyed cloth.  He came this time as my human teacher, a man of prodigious powers who was recognized while still quite young and who holds a position of high authority in a kind of secular 'order.'

I see all of this on multiple levels.  When the one it concerns most reads this, he must ask me for any needed clarification.  This is far too important to leave hanging.
 

12 December

My teacher comes to see me.  He is affectionate and kisses me.  His mouth is overflowingly wet.  He tells me he is a transsexual and wants to have sex-reassignment surgery.  I am dismayed.  Another, older woman is present and she warns him that I will try to manipulate and coerce him.  At the same time, she holds him on her lap, her hands on his arms in an iron grip.  I have to argue with her before I can make my full statement to him:  You won’t care about the shape of your body after your spirit is awake.
 

14 December

With my brother—I notice a tree covered with red blossoms, ‘bell flowers.’  They start swaying, then swooping down, growing larger and dancing like flaring red skirts.   Then I notice, with alarm, a rosebush right in front of us that is covered with insect webbing.  Oh no—caterpillars?  No, I see to my relief, it is many busy little spiders.  The whole bush is draped with one large white web, and then across the front of that the spiders have pinned up silken messages.  The top row reads, Audio / Video / DVD.  Some are directed specifically at me.  One of those explains how to locate my teacher, with different locales for morning and evening:  ‘Another discerning reacher (?) finding Closer’—the main idea being, I tried to tell you where he is, but would you listen?   Noooo….
 

16 December

I watch in horror as a Catholic Army invades newly opened (Communist?) territory.  Many, many mass killings are shown—people are shot as they kneel, then some are killed by men with hammers and axes.  At first, this is a film running before me, then I am in the scene.  I take refuge in a hut with a friendly teenage boy.  Then I am with my teacher at my family’s house.  He is friendly and seems interested in me, although he is not physically expressive.  He is wearing a housewife’s apron that is dusted heavily with flour.  When I ask him about it, he explains that he is doing sensitive work for the Chinese government.  He shows me his cell phone.  The flour is somehow to help him get away if they become unhappy with him?  My mother frowns at us as we wade in the swimming pool.
 

3 January

I hold a box that my teacher has sent to me.  In it is everything I ever gave him—he has sent it all back, even tiny feathers and such I barely recognize.  I don't expect a letter, assuming the package is the message in itself, but I am wrong.  There is a letter with it, closely written in red pencil on white tissue paper.  It is five pages long.  The red pencil starts to turn to black ink as I read.
 

Now there is confusion of levels because I contacted my human teacher.  The primary level of this dream-series probably concerns my Buddhist practice, but I cannot dismiss the presence of a person I studied with for two years.  Both Buddhism and Classics have been poetry studies and essential to my work.  The human person may indeed be put off by this storyline if he feels it is about himself only, especially as there was the matter of a few lines of verse containing the -L- word.  Egads!  All I can say is, I hope this is the worst thing that ever happens to you!

To the best of my conscious knowledge, the verses address the same one they always have, one who is neither here nor there.

Let us proceed with care!
 

6 January

I see my teacher outside a grocery store in a university town—Ann Arbor?  In the same instant as I recognize him, he turns around and recognizes me, and I slip and fall on a patch of ice on the sidewalk.  He has bristly overgrown whiskers and looks pretty scruffy.  He rushes over and hugs me warmly.  He keeps one arm around me tightly as we walk on.  I ask him how he’s been and he says I don’t want to know—it is too sad (rough, sordid?) to tell.  He says he doesn’t want to lose a ‘voter’ by telling me, but I want to hear about it.  We go to a coffee shop and sit down for a visit.

[After that, I tried to go back in for more.  I managed to doze off slightly and hear him tell me that I will have a boring two years waiting for him while he is in the Japanese monastery.]
 

10 January

The denouement?

I have a job interview with a man who is a highly esteemed and very busy medical specialist, probably a surgeon.  He gives me a little car to drive to his office, even though it is only a few yards away, so I use the it.  I have trouble finding a place to park as there are numerous other cars in front of the office.  I am not sure if the place where I left it is acceptable, but he comes out to greet me and assures me that it is.  He seems to have made up his mind to hire me in advance.  He shows me the office printer, which no one there quite understands how to use.  It is similar to my old electronic typewriter.  I sit down on a pillow on the low table where it is kept and try it out.  The man works very long hours and I am concerned about the amount of time I will be required to put in.  At least I want to be paid for it, so I ask if it is hourly or salary.  He seems amused and tells me he thinks of it as salary work.  I say, Well, I am not going to put in a 200-hour week for $80.  He says he is thinking more like $200 for each (task completed, a number of these each day or week).  He then mentions a typing test, which scares me—I thought it was a sure thing, but now I am in doubt.  I wake up, but drift off and back into the same dream.  This time he is even friendlier, putting his arm around me and eventually kissing me.  I start to wonder who he really is and finally ask him.  He seems amused again and tells me, You!  I am you!