As a young child I yearned to be able to dive into water like the bigger kids, but something held me back and I'd chicken out at the last minute to the exasperation of my doting Dad. I watched and watched the others but couldn't "get it". Then one night, I dreamt the perfect dive. I felt it in my cells, muscles and bones and I just "knew" that, tomorrow I would do the perfect dive for real. And, to the complete astonishment of my father, I just dove; not a kid's fall into the water with body ramrod straight and arms stiffly held overhead that passed for a dive, but a real jump off the deck entry.
From a young age I had a facility at drawing and would spend hours sketching away at the kitchen table. Logically one would assume that sight was my strongest sense. But when people asked me how I knew how to draw I just said that I drew what I saw. But that wasn't exactly right. I know now that when I "know" the object in my cells, bones and muscles I can render it on paper. When I'm particularly inspired it virtually leaps onto the page.
When I began my study of yoga I saw myself in a dream walking along a driveway into a yoga-retreat centre in the mountains in North America. A decade later I "knew" that I was walking that same roadway one day as I returned from picking Queen Anne's Lace for a Rudolph Steiner garden potion that I would later be stirring in the pre-dawn hours and spreading over Yasodhara Ashram's garden as a temporary resident/gardener in the spring of '78.
Again that same knowing came over me when Swami Radha suggested I check out the animation program at Sheridan College, which happened to be in my home town, a place I was more than happy to leave a few years earlier and had no intention of returning to, except as a visitor. Despite my determination to stay on Vancouver Island, the island wasn't co-operating. Nothing I did met with any degree of success: my effort to make more than a subsistence living, my cartoon strip, my attempts to get to India to study yoga. All met with failure. A friend later said that islands spit you out once your purpose for being there has been served. It seemed so.
More than this, during those years on the island 2 recurring dream themes visited me. In one I was driving in a car, with my Dad in the passenger seat. We are chatting and enjoying our trip and then he dies, while I'm driving; not due to an accident — he just dies. In the other, a vague knowing that a friend introduces me to an accountant who I later marry. The latter dream, I found particularly absurd as all my life I'd said I'd never marry. Even my dreams supported me in this declaration as I'd never gotten married in my dreams. I've made preparations for my wedding, even walked down the aisle, but all would come to a skidding halt as I'd become panic stricken, break into a cold sweat and bolt or wake up knowing for certain that I was dreaming.
But, it seems that a part of me knew and perhaps so did Swami Radha, that my destiny and a new path was opening up for me, not at an ashram in India but back here in my home town.
And, within a week of my return in the spring of '86 I did meet the man I was to marry (yes, an accountant at the time but within the year he returned to his love of contracting) after an introduction by a childhood friend; a fellow member of the "council". Realizing that this looked like, but wasn't intended to be, a "fix up", she gave me the opportunity to refuse the invitation to dinner, but I passed, assuring her that I wasn't looking for a relationship. My sites were set on a career in animation that would lead to India. I felt certain that my dream was a mistake and by that time had buried it away in a corner of my being.
Then we met and I "knew" my life had changed. And Di and I both knew (as we'd always known), that we really were actually going to become sister-in-laws.
I accepted Rod's second proposal (not his first) only after receiving a close-up "hand in hand"dream image appearing against a sandy backdrop. It felt right in my cells, muscles and bones and I "knew" that he would be there for me and that there was no reason not to marry him.
My father died in 2002, not beside me in a car I was driving. I "knew" the message of this particular dream was not literal but was metaphorically telling me that I would be there for him. The efforts of my brother and myself (who shared POA duties) along with our siblings, enabled him to live at home. He died in the hospital after a, thankfully, short stay.
What future is dreaming my life now I wonder.
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