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Posts Tagged ‘dreamed of a funeral’

Jeane: In this scenario I’ve gone outside in an older, walled city and there’s a funeral precession going by. The people are carrying the body on a platform and it’s covered by a shroud. 

I can tell that it’s a young girl of about 9 years old who’s died. I’m wondering where the parents are. Then I see the parents, who are fairly young, being carried in a large boat, and there are other people in the boat, too.

The parents sit at the very back, the father on one side wrapped up in his grief, and the mother on the other side. She throws herself down on the bench in her grief and, when she does that, her dress comes up so she’s exposed. I’m wishing someone would cover her up a bit because she seems so exposed in her grief.

John: What’s going on in this dream is the imbalance you’ve become aware of is coming across as a type of grief. It’s similar to the shame you felt in the earlier part of the dream (see Thick as a Brick), but grief is the lower octave. Longing is the higher octave.

The longing leads to the death, not the grief of the death, but the longing leads through whatever death there is, or separation there is, within. The grief doesn’t go through it. The grief leaves you and causes you to experience something that’s more than you’re able and willing to accept.

Thus the grief can lead back to a further delusion, or veiling, or separation. But the longing – in the face of something that has changed or died or is no longer meant to be – is an echo deep, deep inside that carries you all the way back to the very first aspect, right from the very beginning.

In other words the beginning and the end are one and the same. Your beginning image saw you heading to a home where you knew your mother was and you had a full sense of this. Then you got deviated and in that deviation you took on guilt and shame. Well, since that needs to change, that’s where the teacher comes in to change it, so that you can now follow the note of yourself all the way back.

In this part of the dream, instead of this being called shame, it’s seen as grief; some part of you has died. This is totally preoccupying you, but on a higher octave you should know that the way you’re meant to feel that separation and distance is with the longing that will help you awaken to the echoed vibration that will see you through again.

This is more information, in terms of how one shifts in one’s ability or responsibility to be able to hear and hold a particular vibratory note. You have a sense of that in the second part of the dream (see The Teacher Inside) where you look to hear the quality of the masculine coming through that holds the note.

This grief thing is very, very interesting. It’s a sadness that you are taking on a little bit. It’s needing to find a connection with the earth or something in order to put you back in touch with what you know as a state, or point in time, that’s meant to be. And yet there’s a disturbance.

Your sense of what you’re drawn to in the outer redeems all of that, and puts you in touch with something that rises up – that’s what it does, it rises up. It’s like a light touching light. It’s a type of longing. Longing does that.

Wow. Very complicated dream.

What you’re doing is you’re describing the schematic, a flow chart for how to Travel In God. Because what you’re doing is you’re laying out the blueprint for how it works. It shows that you don’t hold the same principles of things against you, when you’re in this deeper part of yourself.

When you’re shifted in this part of you, you don’t hold onto the grief – it’s counterproductive. Shame, again, isn’t natural. These are conditions that impact the ability to Travel In God. You don’t really wrestle with the grief or the guilt when you’re Traveling Towards God. You don’t know where that fits in.

But when you’re trying to Travel In God, all of that now has to be taken into account.

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