Sulamith-Wülfing-The-Garden-Child

I am running down the hallway of the annex,  running toward the glass doors that will lead me out to the side of the colossal, white hotel.  Beneath my feet, the scarlet colored carpet is a stream of soft sounds.  Emerging from the doors, I fly down marble steps into a manicured lawn with big willow trees, dotted with palms, a lush tropical garden surrounding me. Just beyond, a deep green jungle river ambles along the perimeter.

I have Kat the brat in my arms and she is purring.  Resting up against the white stone walls to my left, is a man who looks like a very young, tanned Robert Redford.  He looks terribly handsome in a pretty checked shirt and he whispers something through his beautiful white American teeth. He smiles brilliantly as he talks but I do not understand.  I smile back, running past him.  We have a one second flirt. Young Bob is the perfectly perfect American college boy, wholesome but appearing to sell something, which triggers instant repulsion in me and my attraction fades. I rush towards the front lawn of the hotel, where on arriving, I suddenly sit down in the grass.  Holding my precious Kat close,  my eyes search the facade , waiting expectantly.

Whatever was going on inside that made me run, will spill out into the open and I watch, unafraid and curious.

Kat jumps out of my arms and runs furiously back towards the side entrance and dashes straight into the area where we briefly met Mr. LooksLikeYoungRedford on the steps just moments before. Out of nowhere, a Big Grey Wolf appears and attacks Kat ripping her to shreds. Literally skin off bones. I scream in horror and run back to the steps to save the cat, though it seems absurd, since I saw her die. I can save her I think, because I know I am dreaming and so have some control.  I wake up.

“Dream is the personalized myth, myth the depersonalized dream; both myth and dream are symbolic in the same general way of the dynamic of the psyche. But in the dream the forms are quirked by the peculiar troubles of the dreamer, whereas in myth the problems and solutions sown are directly valid for all mankind”
Joseph Campbell, The Hero With a Thousand Faces

Going over the dream I see myself in transformation between 11 and 13.  I know from the grass under my feet that part of the memory is in Thailand, where I lived as a young girl. Lots of things happened to me there, bits and pieces that blossom up more and more (…to be continued). It seems pretty classic as far as message is concerned, and I plan to delve deeper. That’s where the stories are.