Friday, May 2, 2008
Pink Flowers and Dreams
All flowers have been pink to me lately, or at least it seems that way. I have a large flowering tree out back that resembles a crepe myrtle, but I don't think it is. It bloomed with the most gorgeoud blossoms that made the bees ecstatic. It was so beautiful that I forgot what it did after it bloomed - it carpeted my yard with the tiny oval petals of the cast-off blossoms, a soft rug of pink. Bodhi loves to pick up sticks, long blades of grass, and any manner of goose poop as we go for our daily walks, so imagine what he did with the pink blossoms! He looked like he was frothing pink at the mouth. little petals of pink stuck to his chin, his nose, and his tongue. Dog heaven.
In the front yard, I have an azalea (variety: "Satin Robe") that is in full bloom (an example is shown in the picture above, courtesy of the Azalea Society). When Bodhi saw it for the first time, he promptly snatched a blossom only to spit it out immediately. He had already decapitated several daffodils before we could stop him, and now he had taken one of the precious few blossoms from my azalea bush! (Ah, how I miss the azalea festival in Wilmington, NC!) We managed to get him away from the azaleas and avoid having him snatch one of the pink tulips that ring my tree out front.
Pink flowers everywhere I look. Beautiful. So I wasn't surprised on Tuesday when I saw a field of pink calla lilies while my physical therapists was gently manipulating C4 in my neck. As he rhythmically pressed on the vertebra, stimulating blood flow and energy, I closed my eyes and was greeted with the image of the lilies, frame by a white border that looked as though I had torn open a Japanese paper door and allowed in the beautiful view. I was in a Frida Kahlo painting, it seemed.
I was stunned. I was speechless. I've never had any imagery pop into my mind involuntarily while getting a massage or any kind of therapy. It was precious, and I didn't want to open my eyes. I got up the nerve the next day to tell the therapist about it. He didn't laugh, as I thought he might, in fact he had me share it with the massage therapist there who has just learned Reiki. She looked at me a little strangely, perhaps assessing whether or not I was crazy. Isn't it strange that people make all of these claims about their Reiki/acupuncture/massage/reflexology practices but they don't seem to really believe it (unless they are making a sales pitch). I'm here to tell you that it can happen.
According to what I found on symbolism, the calla lily means marriage or is related to marriage. And then I had a dream about my dead grandmother -- not during therapy but during a nap. Though I don't remember all of the dream, I know that I kept dreaming of her rocking chair. Every time I would come anywhere near her chair, it would begin rocking furiously. I felt that she was calling out to me, too, though she wasn't visible. Suddenly I felt that I had not done enough for her while she was dying. I had been there, as was my mother. We changed her gown and sponge-bathed her. Mom cleaned Granny's dentures and washed her face. What else could we have done? The whole dream freaked me out, because I kept trying to call my mother in, only to realize she was dead, too. I felt alone and a little bit lost.
When I woke up, I sat up in bed and just shook my head. I had to wake up! I had to realize that these women were gone and that there was nothing to be frightened of. In fact, they would never hurt me, but what a strange dream!
I'm hoping for more pink flowers and fewer scary dreams this weekend. Happy Friday, blogland.
Peace - D
at 6:48 AM