I dreamed that I was swimming in the ocean.  In real life, I don’t like to swim in the ocean unless it’s crystal-clear, like the Caribbean or the Florida Keys.  I’m neurotically afraid of sharks (which I know are crucially important for the ecosystem and almost never hurt anyone) and I don’t like it when something brushes my leg.  I’m also worried that I am going to cut my foot on a sharp rock or some sort of debris.

I dreamed I was swimming in the ocean and felt something brush against my lower leg.

I am a very strong swimmer, but I am not a good diver.  I think I can do about 12 feet..?

I dove down to see what touched me.

There were bodies of women, suspended in the water.  They all looked like me.  There was grass coming out of the sand and women’s bodies above it.

In the murky distance was a monster.  I couldn’t see him, but he had a yellow eye.  I saw that.  He was saving the bodies to eat for later.

I came to the surface and tried hard to swim to shore, but I couldn’t get any closer.  I kept swimming and swimming.  I was scared the monster was coming for me.

The Snow

I had a strange dream.

I drove into the mountains at night.  It was winter (it’s almost always wintertime in my dreams), and the snow was deep and heavy.  The sky had a million stars.  At this altitude, they’re very white and clear, as if God punctured the black silk tarp of the sky with a pick-axe.

It’s weird how the snow can cause a field to be illuminated, even in the blackest hour of night.

In my dream, I took off all of my clothes, folded them, and left them beside my car.  Then I walked out into the small meadow, which was surrounded by pine trees.

I lay down on my side in the snow, curled up like a shrimp.  At this point in my dream, it was as if I was watching myself from the outside–I could see myself lying in the snow.  I thought it was a beautiful  image, and I looked like a child again, but it was macabre.

At first, the cold hurt very badly…as it does. It burns.  It was snowing and the wind was blowing, and I felt it blowing snow, gradually, over my body.  Before it covered my face, I looked up at the stars.

When I got cold enough, the pain stopped.  I knew the symptoms of hypothermia (and I’ve had frostbite from doing biathlon with inadequate clothing protection).  The temperature spikes and then plummets as the circulation leaves the extremities and goes to the internal organs and the brain.

I stopped shivering, and things became peaceful.  The snow was like a blanket.

I wish that I knew what this dream means.  I’m confused about my life right now, but I’m not depressed, and I feel stable and certainly don’t want to die.  I don’t have bad anxiety.

My Jungian therapist believed that death dreams symbolize a spiritual or life transition.  Like you have to die to be reborn.  He was an unprofessional batshit-crazy philistine, but he wasn’t completely without talent, so maybe he was on to something.  I’m an atheist and a skeptic and I don’t believe in supernatural bullshit, but I acknowledge that there is something in the human experience and our biology/psychology which compromises the “soul.”  It’s where all art comes from, and the awe of beauty.

Laying in the snow, underneath my fluffy protective snowy blanket that was killing me, I was hoping that the stag with burning antlers would visit me again…but he didn’t.

Bad Dream about Monkey

Last night I had a dream that I still had my previous birds, my linniolated parakeets.  I wrote about them here.

I let them out of their cage almost every day, and I also let them fledge, because birds are meant to fly.  Clipping the wings protects them, but it’s also like putting them in a wheelchair.  It is the nature of a bird to fly.  When I let my last big parrot, Parrot, fledge, she became much more confident and open to our relationship (and I never let the linnies out when she was outside of her cage, because I was afraid she might hurt them.  They were indigenous to different continents and did not speak the same birdy language).

It was safe, because my 5th-floor walkup apartment in the East Village had no windows in the living room.  There was no way for the birds to get out.

For the most part, the linnies stayed on their cage, just hanging around with each other.  Sometimes they would make slow, careful laps around my living room, or fly to me. I never tried to dictate their behavior. They were so beautiful, and I miss them so much. I knew them each, as individuals.

Well, in my dream (was it actually a nightmare…?  Not quite, but almost), I’d let the linnies out of their cage so that they could play.  There was a child boy in my apartment, and the left my bedroom door open, when had windows.

And the windows were open.

He came to me, shrieking “One of the birds flew away!”

I rushed immediately to the window and tried to close it, but it wouldn’t close.  I grabbed a towel and held it over the open space in the window, but the towel did not cover the open space.  The birds could still fly out if they went around the towel.

I was terrified.

Somehow, the door was closed, and we got the other three birds into the cage.

Which one was it, who flew through the window…?

It was Monkey (that is his name, Monkey, because he loved to climb around and hang upside down).  Monkey was absolutely gorgeous, a perfect specimen.  I ordered him from San Diego and picked him up from the airport.  He was the boldest and strongest of the linnies. If I introduced new food, or a new toy in their cage, he was always the first one to check it out or go exploring.  He was turquoise.  He was beautiful and I’d post a picture of him now (I took lots), but I can’t bear to look at them right now because of the dream.  He was also wild as a March hare, and wouldn’t allow me to touch him, but as long as I didn’t physically impose myself upon him, he wasn’t afraid of me at all.

Monkey flew away to a certain death.

My NYC analyst, the Freudian, said that my birds are my heart.   I’ve had so many dreams when they were released out of my protection. 

I have failed to protect myself in this life.  And nobody else can do it for me.


I miss you and I’m sorry.


The Burning Stag

This is the dream that I had the other night:

I dreamed that I lived in a white house with a porch all around the outside, like porches used to be.

It was winter outside and snow was flying, as it so often is in my dreams (in my dreams, it is almost always cold and snowy).

I was playing with my parrot, Abe, and I saw a light from outside the window.  It looked like firelight, so I ran out to inspect.

There was a huge stag standing in front of the porch.  His breath turned to vapor in the frigid air, and he had enormous antlers.

His antlers were on fire.  The flame illuminated the night and the snow around him.

He was not burning up, not dying.  It was just that his antlers were on fire.  Like the Holy Ghost, the Spirit of God, whom I do not believe in, but whom I recognize as a religious trope. I know how fire is presented in the Bible.

I cautiously approached him (I have never killed a deer, but the men in my family have, and I know how to dress one).  I felt that he wanted to speak to me.

Then I woke up.


P.S. These fucking dreams, fucking dreams I hate them, that is all

Snake in the Sink

I had a really weird dream Thursday night, when I was in my hotel room in San Francisco….

I dreamed that I was hurrying to get ready for a morning session.  I was dressed and almost prepared, but I walked into the bathroom…

…and found my snake there, curled up in the sink, which was full of water!

(Note: I don’t actually have a pet snake.  I call him “my” snake because I have dreamed about this creature a few times now, and he’s always the same.  He is a nice friendly green snake.  I like snakes, I think they are awesome!)

Anyway, he was in the sink, with his head sticking out of the water.  He did not seem to be distressed…but a snake like that does not belong in the water…?  Was he drowning…?  Was he just taking a bath…?

Next to him, on the bathroom counter, was my pet parrot Abe!

Abe and the snake were looking at each other, and I felt like they had been talking, and I’d interrupted their conversation….

Upon seeing the snake, I panicked a little bit.  I mean, I couldn’t have a snake in the sink when my client arrived!  He’d freak out my client!

“Snake!  What are you doing here?! You can’t be here, snake!” I protested.

I picked up the snake and was running around deciding what to do with him!  I looked underneath the bed, and thought about hiding him there, but then I thought that if he crawled out from under the bed in the middle of the session, it would look really bad.

I thought about hiding the snake in the safe with my money, but I couldn’t do that because he might die without air ventilation.

Eventually, I dumped him in a drawer in the closet, and closed the closet doors.

Then I heard the knock upon the door.  My client.

What do you think this dream means….?

(23) Scold’s Bridle

This morning, I had a dream that I was traveling over the mountains on horseback.  A man was guiding me.  He’d been sent (by who? I don’t remember) to bring me there.

I don’t remember what he looked like, but he was wearing a brown suede jacket with horn buttons, like the ranchers wear when they dress up for town.  He was wearing a hat.  I think he had dark hair.

I kept asking him questions about who’d sent him and where we were going, but he wouldn’t answer me.  Eventually, he stopped, dismounted, and pulled me off my horse!

Then he put me in a Scold’s Bridle!

the bad old days
the bad old days

In my dream, this didn’t upset me at all, which is interesting because I’m sure it would make me unhappy if it actually happened.

We had to camp in the mountains overnight.  He took it off of me so that I could sleep, but had sex with me first.   I enjoyed it.

That was the end of my dream.

This dream was fun enough (I don’t know about you, but I always like it when I have sex dreams), but I am embarrassed by the content matter.  I am not a very scold-y woman, and even if I was, I am reasonable: nobody would actually have to put a metal cage on my head to shut me up!  Just the threat would be enough to quiet me down.

That’s all for tonight.

Another Night in the Haunted House

       I just had a dream that I was working at the Studio.  I had a long session.  I don’t remember anything about the session, but when I came out, I was very, very tired.  I walked to the locker room and sat down on the couch.

       My English friend, Betsy, was there, and she was putting her things away in the locker that used to be mine.

       I was tired and closed my eyes, thinking I would take a five-minute nap.  

       When I woke up, it was very late at night and the place was almost empty.  It was very dark and lit only by a nightlight and a lightbulb inside Betsy’s locker.  She was still putting stuff away and talking to some guy standing in the corner.  I don’t remember anything about him.

         “Oh, shit, I overslept!” I said.

         “We’re just about to head out,” she said.

         “I’ll leave with you.  Will you wait just a sec for me to grab my things?  It’s dark in here.  Where’s the light?”

          “They moved the switch over to the manager’s desk.”

          I carefully eased my way out of the locker room and looked for the manager’s desk.  It was supposed to be about twelve feet away, but now it was very, very far away–like on the other side of the room, a hundred yards away.

           I started running towards it, but no matter how fast I ran, I didn’t get any closer.  At last, I gave up, and turned around to go back to the locker room.

           “Never mind, I’ll get my things later.  Let’s get out of here,” I said.

         But then I heard Betsy and the guy leaving without me.  They turned off the final light and I heard the door slam shut.  

          I was left in the darkness alone, and I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face.

The Fourth Owlet

Read More

  I dreamed that I went to visit him in his home in the countryside.  While I was there, he asked me if I would like to see the owls in his barn.  They recently had owlets, and we could get right up close to them because the parents would be out hunting. 

    Naturally I was delighted at the prospect of seeing the owls, so I followed him to the barn.  The barn was identical to the ranchers’ barns found in the rural areas of my homeland: it was very tall, and had a loft space at the top.

     He told me that the owlets were nested there, in the loft space, which was accessible only by ladder.  We had to climb the ladder one at a time.  He went first and waited at the top, stabilizing the ladder with his hands.  I am afraid to climb ladders, but I scaled it.

      The loft was sunny, with a low peaked roof, and it had a little glassless window that looked out onto grassy fields.  The barn looked like it came from my homeland, but the view out the window did not look familiar at all.  It looked like this painting by van Gogh (I always make a point to see this whenever I visit the Met):

      The loft was surprisingly clean and tidy for a barn.  He said that the barn was where he kept his secret things.

      Then I saw the owlets!  There were three of them, hopping around the floor, as bold as you please.  They were so cute!  The owlets were not afraid of him at all.  They ran to him.

      We observed the owls and played with them for a while, and then it was time to go back to the house.  

        He went down the ladder first.  I watched him descend, clutching the ladder in my hands.

        When his shoes reached the floor, he pulled the ladder away and leaned it against the far corner of the barn!  I asked him what he was doing, and he explained, calmly, that it was his intention to keep me in the loft indefinitely.

      Then he walked out.

      I was panicking, but there was nothing I could do.  I could not get down without the ladder. The loft was at least two stories off the floor of the bare floor of the barn.  It was too high to risk a jump.  Like an owlet, I could not fly.

        I began to explore the loft, seeing it with fresh eyes.  It had obviously been prepared in advance.  There was a wrought-iron bedframe bolted to the floor, a mattress, and o-ring anchor points drilled into the beams on the ceiling. 

         There was a picnic basket with food and water.  

         (Eventually, there would be books and writing materials, but I had to earn those.)

           It was just the owlets and me.  In time, I became the fourth owlet.  

        He would come to visit me and fuck me almost every day, which was nice. 

         As he went around town on his business, his friends and neighbors would often ask about how he had passed the time that day.  Smiling, he would tell them that he spent the morning observing his barn owl.

      He smiled because it was a private joke.  Nobody had any idea that his barn owl was actually a girl. 


Read More

alexej:  Gustave Doré, The Wolves and the Flock of Sheep [Les Loups et les Brebis], 1867. From Doré’s Illustrations for the Fables of La Fontaine.

Gustave Dore, The Wolves and the Flock of Sheep (Les Loups et les Brebis) 1867.  From Dore’s Illustrations for the Fables of La Fontaine. 

     Wolves possess tremendous spiritual power.  They fascinate me.  I identify primarily with birds and herbivorous animals–deer. giraffes–but when I was a child, I would fantasize about being a wolf.  

     I would pore over photographs of wolves in National Geographic and envision the feel and smell of their fur, coarse and hard like armor, with a dense undercoat.  The softness of the ears and the terrible long mouth, full of fangs.  

     I would have nightmares of being raped by a wolf or a werewolf.  These were not sexy dreams.  They were awful. 

     I still have these nightmares today.

     Terror and fascination.  Terror and fascination. 

“I Lived in a War-Torn Country”

    Miss Margo Note:  Pouring over my dream journal today.  I had this dream in 2010, and I remember it vividly to this day.  The Kings were like Egyptian gods: human bodies with animal heads.

      You don’t have to be Sigmund Freud to figure out the symbolism, but my birds represent my heart.

     I lived in a war-torn country.  Enemies invaded the borders and marched inward with their armies.  People left their homes to become refugees on the roads, trying to walk to a safe place.  I was one of them.  I took my birds with me in a travel cage because I would not abandon them to die.  At night when it was time to sleep, you could see towns burning on the horizon where the enemies had arrived.  They were close and getting closer.  I tried to comfort my birds, who were very distressed. 

     The King of my country, who was a wolf, came for me at night.  He scooped me up and put me behind him on his horse.  I tried to shield my birdcage in my coat. He rode us hard, far ahead, into the desert where we were all alone.  The desert was familiar and the sky had a million stars!  Then he pulled me off the horse and raped me.  He was huge, the size of an automobile.  I couldn’t help it. 

     As soon as he was done, he looked over his shoulder and said, “They’re coming!  We have to get away!”  He put me on his back, which was covered by a royal scarlet cape, and started to run.  He was so fast that it was scary.  I held on for dear life. There was nothing to help us in the desert; nowhere to hide. 

I looked behind me and saw his enemies coming in the distance.  There was a Lion King, a Tiger King, and a Doberman Pincher King.  They had crowns and capes.  They had united against him, the Wolf king.  They were coming to take him. 

     Wolf King was sweating and running so fast that I was terrified.  But I saw the other Kings get closer and closer.  Eventually, they caught us, and Wolf King tripped and landed in the dirt and I went flying. 

     They took Wolf King as a prisoner and then came over to me.  I said that Wolf King had kidnapped me and that I was not with him voluntarily.  They did not believe me.  Before my eyes, they released the birds from my cage while I cried and begged them not to do it.  My birds flew away to a certain death.