I’ve been sitting with a lot of people in Astrology Sessions lately.  A close friend of mine asked if it was confusing sitting with all sorts of different people, talking about all kinds of different charts.  I thought about it for a moment and realized, I don’t ever feel that way.  The way I described it to my friend was that each person’s chart is like a unique stained glass design.  It’s like wandering through unending cathedrals, seeing unique stained glass designs, styles, colors, techniques and inspirations.  I don’t ever feel anything but amazed that you can talk to someone for two hours about their life while sitting with them and their Astrology Chart.  As I responded to the question, using the metaphor of “stained glass,”  it reminded me of a dream I recorded over a quarter century ago, that I think is share worthy.  I’ve recorded 7,000 dreams over the last 26 years or so, but this was one of the first.

16     1/1/92  I am at a blues club in Los Angeles.  I see a band playing and the singer is obviously a bearded Jim Morrison.  He does nothing to hide this, and nobody is all that excited about him being there, despite him being dead.  I wonder, “Am I in 1971?”   I return another time and he is clean shaven and bright blue eyed.  There is a newspaper report on the wall about Jim Morrison playing at the club, but there is no mention made of how strange an occurrence this is even though he has been dead for twenty years(now close to fifty)  I watch the show thinking about the implications of his being alive, or wondering if in fact, I am also dead.   The show ends.  I try to find my way out of the incredibly large complex that the Blues Club is is located in the basement of.  Finally I find my way out through a stairwell, but when I get outside, I realize I am not in Los Angeles, but in a neighborhood in New York City with which I am totally unfamiliar.  I walk and walk, hoping to find a familiar street name.  I become aware that I am in an African American Neighborhood where the inhabitants are about to riot about something that is most likely racial.  I feel threatened and think that I should probably find a safer place to be.  A young man on a bike tells me in a German accent that I should be in a movie theater.  That idea doesn’t appeal to me.  He says if I want to get to the train station to escape New York, I should follow the tower at Grand Central Station that is many blocks away.  I look up to see an immense tower with the stained glass from Chartres Cathedral at the top of it.   A bright light shines behind it, shining its’ colors across the city to me.  I follow it knowing as long as I keep heading in that direction, and keep the stained glass in my sights, I will be safe.

     Now, I’ll leave it to the reader to decide what this dream is really about.  But, I will say that at times my life has been chaotic, and at times it still is, but I have always been able to ground myself in the moment knowing that I am headed toward and keeping my eye on the “Stained Glass,” whatever ineffable experience it symbolizes.  As each person I read for reveals themselves through their unique arrangement of consciousness, I’ve found myself feeling that it is all one consciousness that comes in an unending variety of forms and asks the same questions through many prisms of light, color, memory, identity and emotion.   “Where am I from? Where am I going? Am I going to be okay?  Will there be others who love me when I get there?” I think the answer to all these questions, no matter how they are phrased, is an unequivocal, “Yes.”

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