The night after my return, I had a dream. In this dream, I was part of the NOE staff working with Marc and Christa and Sue and Bill and others. Then, everyone was killed, assassinated. I could hear myself saying over and over and over, "Oh my God; Oh my God"...
For the next several days, before my next session with Sue, my therapist, I was in huge reaction. When I worked this dream with Sue she told me about how many people involved in NOE had been having this dream and suggested that perhaps I was part of this community before and that this dream related to past life trauma and the loss of my whole community. She explained to me what has been accepted by other folks from NOE and explained that this is why a number of people have ventured to France for the Fall 2011 NOE retreat. A return to where they once lived; a return to the scene of the crime; to the place of the terror; to this place of loss.
Since then, the in me has been so violent, so fierce, so loud. I haven't written. I haven't painted. I have retreated into the flat, distracted, comfort of NUMB.
Do I even believe in past lives? Do I have any idea what this is? What do I do with this? I am terrified of what I have gotten myself into. I am screaming at the people around me, shaking, filled with an unfathomable rage...
My therapist asked that I acknowledge that this trauma was a possibility and to know that when I am in reaction, that it is to this, not whatever is happening at the moment. This was to be my homework.
But, I want to say this is about the Fall of my life. The time when the leaves change and everything dies. What I remember of the this place for certain, is that I lost my birth mother in the fall. A car accident while on her way to meet me so we could plan our 10 year reunion anniversary. I lost my brother to the ravages of AIDS. He wasted to nothing in the fall at 34 years of age. In the fall, I lost the only medicine I knew of to help me with the pain of my traumas, the pain of my suffering, the god-sized hole in my heart, when I chose recovery.
So now, when my favorite time of year approaches; when the days get shorter, the air cools down, the leaves turn bright reds, oranges, yellows, when the landscape of my world dies, I go off the beam. I list to the left, I stumble, I rage. This year, I am noticing that I feel things I don't understand. The deep hurts well up and, now, in the rage I see my pain, my grief, my longing.
Oh, my God; Oh, my God; Oh, my God.
I want to turn away, to run, to hide. I want to say NO! NO! NO!
Can I stand in the face of what the dreams are showing me? Can I trust this person who is helping me? Can I trust myself? Do I have the courage, the faith and the strength?
Is the promise of my soul, my precious soul, enough?
I am on a ship with two men, one of them is George Clooney. There is a huge storm outside. Suddenly I see the dark shape of a man at one of the ships windows. I think it is Kevin Bacon. He is trying to get me. George dives out the window and tackles him and I see them struggling.
I am with two men outside a house. Suddenly I realize the house is on fire and there is a girl tied up inside. One of the men runs into the building to save her.
I have been told that I won't be given more than I can handle. The dreams won't take me where I am not ready to go. I have had numerous dreams, like the two above, where the Animus has shown that he is there to support me, to be with me in difficult times.
Can this girl trust God? Can she moved past the NO?