Dream of: 03 March 1995 "Art In The Closet Of the Church"

spirit is the source of all art

As my father and I walked along a gravel road in a hilly wooded area, I gradually realized that we were being accompanied by several of my relatives who were no longer living. I specifically was aware of my maternal grandmother Leacy (1901- 1972) and my paternal grandfather Cole (1907-1947). When we happened upon a large old cemetery beside the road and strolled into it, I was charmed by the multitude of white gravestones thickly set together over the green earth. It occurred to me that few people ever visited this remote place. If I had a metal detector, this would be a good place to hunt for treasure. I sensed that my grandmother Leacy agreed with me.

As my father and my deceased relatives walked through the cemetery with me, I had an image in my mind of a picture I had once seen of my grandfather Cole. In the picture he had been standing on the edge of a cemetery next to a distinctive gravestone in the shape of a rectangle about two meters tall and about sixty centimeters wide. This gravestone hadn't looked look like the other gravestones: it had no writing on it, and more than anything, it had looked like a large piece of flint. I realized the deceased Cole with me was now trying to find the place in this cemetery where that picture had been taken. Looking around, I suddenly saw the spot. Instead of the large, flint gravestone, however, there was now the rock face of a hill which abutted the cemetery. Disconcerted by the difference in my memory and the actual scene before me, I beckoned the others to come and look. My father, however, indicated that it was time to go, and without further ado, he headed back down the road.

When I turned back around, I was no longer in the cemetery, but in the vestibule of a church, which (I thought), like the cemetery, had been abandoned. I now remembered having earlier heard someone in the group mention that a Bible containing some old pictures had been in the church. Seeing a closet near me, I looked inside and was surprised to see some old books lying on the floor in the back of the closet.

I pulled out one large book which was falling apart, ran to the door of the church and called out to my father and the others about what I had found. But they had already left. I was excited by my discovery, but also worried because I didn't want to become separated from my father and the others – I wasn't sure how to find my way out of here.

Returning to the closet, as I put the book back down, I saw what appeared to be a large Bible. Excited, I pulled out the Bible and laid it on a table. I thought this could possibly be the very Bible I had heard of which contained the pictures about which I had heard. Thinking I might simply take the Bible with me, I opened the first page. Uncertain at first of what I saw. I slowly realized that inside the front cover was a picture-puzzle with about half the pieces missing. Some pieces had even fallen out on the table when I had opened the cover. From what was left, however, I slowly realized the puzzle depicted the virgin Mary. The picture was richly detailed and obviously an exquisite find, even if it were incomplete.

Almost imperceptibly at first, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a boy (probably in his early teens) had appeared inside the door of the church. He was dressed in a religious outfit, with a pale frock and a red skirt. I didn't acknowledge his presence, but his presence informed me that the church was still in use, and that I wouldn't be able to take the Bible with me.

As I continued looking at the Bible, I came to what appeared to be a genealogy-table with small round pictures of the people in the genealogy. I thought these might be my ancestors, but I didn't recognize any pictures or any names. I also didn't see the picture of my father's father, Cole, in the genealogy. Nevertheless, I realized that the genealogy-table was a find of importance.

Hearing something near the boy, I looked up and saw a man approaching me. He was also dressed in a church outfit, different from the boys, with predominately gold and silver colors. He was probably in his mid 30s, tall and thin, and had a short beard and mustache. He walked up to me, addressed me by name, and asked me if I had been doing any folk dancing lately.

I was rather taken aback by his question. He obviously knew me, but I couldn't place him. As he continued talking, I gathered that he taught folk dancing, and that I had once folk danced with him. I was aware that I had indeed folk danced years ago in a church, but I told him I hadn't done any folk dancing for a long time. He almost seemed obsessed by the subject, and he asked me to tell him how many dances I thought he had done. When I told him I had no idea, he said he had done one hundred and eighty-some folk dances.

I didn't care much for the man, even though I told him I might be moving back to the area - which vaguely seemed to be in a hilly region of Kentucky. I didn't want to tell him I might start coming to his church, even though I thought to myself that I might like to start folk dancing again.

Commentary of October 15, 2015

This dream seems to offer an analogy to me of a church and the Dream Journal. Other activity unrelated directly to the worship of God can take place in church, such as folk-dancing which anyone could attend. Folk-dancing reminds me of group activity which could take place on the Dream Journal. Just as people enjoy dancing, so perhaps could dream-journalists dance - in a sense - together in some way on the Dream Journal. What could dream-journalists do together which would resemble the elation of dancing definite group-dances together, I wonder. Whatever such an activity might be, I suspect it will involve only that group of people who acknowledge that their dreams, and the people in their dreams, can be viewed - with the most delightful results - from a Dream-Journal perspective, and who will seek to understand their dreams from that vantage-point.

Just as people sometimes interact with each other by folk-dancing together in a church, so can dream-journalists interact with each other by dreaming about each other and publishing those story-containing dreams for all to read on the Dream Journal.

I seem to sense a certain similarity to the elation of folk dancing and the elation of seeing oneself in another person's dreams.

My Grandfather Cole

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