Dream of the One-Winged Angels

From my personal dream journal December 5, 2011:

I have been visited by women with half-shaved heads and one white wing for an arm. Their faces are very celestial, they dress in orange robes that fold and wrinkle over their bodies like the petals of a flower, and they move with odd grace. On a giant pink and white rose sits a man I think is a friend of mine, but it’s not him, he’s something/someone else. In fact, he’s not a he anymore, She‘s a goddess with a very sad face, glowing with pink light. She is spilling rice, white petals into every direction. In one hand she has a half empty banana wood bowl, half-filled with what looks like saffron, in her other hand she holds, with just the tips of her fingers, a large oval green egg shining like an emerald. She has a silver — no, white gold — crown and wears a white robe with a red zig-zag sash. This red sash turns into blood, blood that trails downward and rushes out, gushing into a lake underneath me until I look down and realize it is my own blood bleeding out of me. I fall to the ground in agony. My heart is coming out of me! I next realize I am a woman with one white wing for an arm.  But I am not dressed in orange, I am in black. I am flopping around like a dying bird. I look up to see a dark figure standing over me about to cut me down with a sword. This figure looks like a blue onyx statue come to life. Its face is both female and male, eyes elongated and almond-shaped, the mouth wide and kissable, the expression has no malice, there is sadness, but it is one of almost-pity, like it thinks I am pathetic or weak. As the sword falls, I feel it brush my neck, and I wake up weeping.

“You need not suffer anymore,” was what the Rose Pink Goddess told me before the Sword fell against my neck.  By that time my entire chest was a bloody mess, as if my heart burst from a gunshot.  Or perhaps my heart got too large for my body and outgrew me.  The face the Rose Pink Goddess had began to resemble my own.  I felt strangely comforted by that.  Even the Blue Onyx Sword Goddess was full of mercy.

“You are not to blame for your pain,” said the Blue Onyx Sword Goddess, her voice the sound of whispering flame… you know the sound that fire makes when it first ignites and the air first breathes over it, when the smoke just begins to rush upwards?  That’s her sound.  When I first dreamed “her” I wasn’t sure what sex she was, but in recalling the dream and drawing it out on paper, the features and colors brought back the vision.  I love to remember a dream like this.  The more I think about it, the more comes back to me, and the more the dream becomes ever more real.  These figures are talking to me all over again.  I am living this dream as I share it.

The beginning of the dream, as with all dreams, is the most unclear and fragile.  I describe now the One-Winged women as Angels, yet after painting them, I now see they resemble Buddhist nuns.  I saw my own reflection in the blood that spilled outward towards me and underneath me from the Rose Pink Goddess.  This isn’t the only time I have dreamed of a goddess appearing before me with a green egg, but this time she held a bowl in her right hand.  The previous goddess, I have dream of was Fortuna, and she held an elaborate feather in her right hand and that same green egg in her left hand. I still have yet to decipher what this symbol may mean.

I believe that the Rose Pink Goddess was distracting me away from what was making me sad; missing a faraway friend.  The Blue Onyx Goddess was cutting me off from what usually causes me the most pain; my bi-polar disorder.  I have been actively working towards a goal of better regulating my moods in order to relieve myself of prolonged suffering.  Much of the new therapy I have been practicing incorporates eastern meditation techniques combined with  western Witchcraft-influenced coping skills.  I have also been taking an increased dosage of a medication that helps to stabilize my mood. While I adjust, my mind tells me how things are working out.

And the Gods are telling me that they are supporting me in my efforts to improve my life.  At least this is what I hope they are telling me!  This dream, and a series of dreams like it I have been experiencing for many nights afterward, has made my psychiatrist wonder…  “How can you incorporate symbolism and gods that are outside of your culture into your personal dream iconography?” She asked me.  I just smiled at that and answered her with silence. It doesn’t baffle me in the slightest.

A wise teacher of mine would ask me, “What does this all mean to you, Valentina?”  And that has me thinking wildly.

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3 comments on “Dream of the One-Winged Angels

  1. […] I fasted and prayed for some kind of miracle to take hold of me. I was feeling like half a woman. I dreamed of one-winged angels and my heart bursting out of my body and I painted a vision of my shadow self as a desperate unicorn girl in need of being accepted. […]

  2. Bea Nunes says:

    I had a dream about a woman dressed in a black gown, shaved head and a black wing for an arm. She had this Indian nose ring with a golden chain.

  3. Adelaide says:

    Have you ever thought about publishing an ebook or guest authoring on other blogs? I have a blog based upon on the same subjects you discuss and would love to have you share some st/iresoinfoimatron. I know my visitors would appreciate your work. If you are even remotely interested, feel free to send me an e mail.

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