Bring love back to it

Your wardrobe looks better in dreams than you remember it being. There are clothes that haven't aged, there are outfits you have always wanted to wear. It's so lusciously overflowing with possibilities for who you can be, and who you have been.

But for now, you're in the wardrobe and fanning through the outfits, looking for some long pants. The weirdest thing is that the wardrobe, which is yours, is in the room of a much older woman. She is there too, and inexplicably in a semi-romantic closeness is leaning draped around you. It's a little unnerving in hindsight, a little offputting, a little stifling and familiar.

Though without jumping to conclusions, time unspools for a moment unsteadily, and it's you, in your room, leaning on yourself, while you also stand and browse through clothes.

Quick time zip: a breath - we are now in the hall of an ornate mansion, empty of people but still full of decorations, including the hallrunner, and branching rooms off the broad hall. There's a mirrored dresser to the right. But at the end of the hall there's a crumbled hole in the wall, big enough to walk through, and vines and roots all over the patio out there. It advances in our focus and we are there out through it. To the right is an old waterslide down to a pool. There's also a window into a bedroom. We climb in the window, always moving, roving focus. We find costume jewellery and more jewellery boxes.

The caretaker of the house is now in the hall, we hear their voice. They call out, and we emerge towards them, explaining we are just looking around. The caretaker says to stay as long as we like.

I read a part of a really good book, The Circular Temple, while writing this - picking an oracle page - and it said (paraphrased quite loosely) by examining all the elements of your self and exposing hidden parts you'd rather not spend time with, you are given rich and overflowing substances with which to build dreams.

Things that are not pleasant to describe, elements that have been edited down for simplicity, movements that are hard to put into words, relationships that don't have a clear boundary... they are all things you can see in your own dreams with an open soft focus, without words. You can really feel the feeling and message without describing it, and hold that internal logic, where describing it fails.

Another book I read recently talked about: you can know the whole thing as a whole, or you can know the specific details of (some of) it. It was written by a quantum physicist and mystic who was talking about dreams, and he evidenced it through the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. You can't know "both states" of the dream at once, and by telling someone, you choose one route and collapse the possibility function. It also changes the dream, your knowledge of the dream. But, and this is what makes it worthwhile, it grounds the dream into reality and you can work with it, as opposed to it dispelling like clouds.

In favour of seeing some of the patterns even while missing the total pattern, we can still gain some practical advice or practices to try.

To be okay to look at the old house of remnants and claim them, or care for them, notice them again - the body or parts of you that you had forgotten to care for or didn't value.

To be comfortable with the parts that feel offputting about bodies, relationships, about change, about decay and disarray.

To see the range of possibilities for being different selves you have been and will be, all in perfect condition in your own wardrobe!

To be at home with yourself through time and to not abandon you.

Anyway, what would it look like to move out of this dreary 1800s mood into a dream of a paradise future? Nothing says you need to wither away in your old mansion, you could be skyriding dragons and living inside a crystalline roundhouse, with trees growing through it and friends all around.

There's no need to self-impose doom when you’re totally in control of the dream!