Dreaming Big

By Kellie Meisl

I have been dreaming big all summer. I had a particularly wonderful dream in July:

A childhood friend from whom I have been estranged invites me to a theme party at her home. All of my friends from past and present will be in attendance. I accept the invitation.

When I arrive at the home of my former friend, I must navigate her steep driveway to get to her house; it is made of crushed pink glass seemingly melted together, making a very beautiful path, albeit a slightly slippery slope, to climb. I do so with care and focus, placing my feet just so as to make it carefully up the incline without slipping.

This dream encourages me. I am awed by the fact that I accepted the invitation to attend this party that will contain so many personal facets (past and present friends) of my life. The party is themed and the theme seems to be me facing my past and present in its entirety...

Driveways have been a dream theme this summer and a friend pointed out those driveways are entryways as well as places to exit from. Perhaps I am being shown that I can come and go as I please.

I associate the pink crushed glass with the heart. It is a heart that has been crushed, yet nonetheless mended back together into a work of beauty, a path I enter deliberately, placing my soles (soul) with care as I navigate. The climb is steep and seems symbolic of what it takes to heal sometimes. It isn't always easy, but if I focus and move forward on this heart path I will arrive.

I like that all my allies await me too.

This dream inspires me to create my art, more goddess collages that contain shattered pieces of my great grandmother's heirloom china, gifted to me from my mother, prior to the collapse that crushed them.

About a month after my dream I went on a trip out west with my husband and son to visit the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park. We also toured three deserts, the Sonoran Desert, the Painted Desert and the Mojave Desert.

It was an amazing journey and I found myself climbing many a steep pink, pebbled path in heat close to 100 degrees at times and to heights of 8500 miles above sea level. Perhaps the theme of the party in my dream was this journey.

Yet, I did not recall the dream until I returned and began to write about my experience of traveling the thousand mile excursion to these awe inspiring locations.

My encounter with these distinctive landforms brought a bevy of emotions. I wrote a poem about my feelings that surfaced as I met up with the glorious landforms, this was the only way I could put into words what I had encountered. The excursion truly was a dream, quite visceral and almost beyond words.

Painted land…scarlet, crimson, pink and rosy… salmon, peach…golden…emerald, teal…azure, purple, white…

Navajo land, simple life, Spirit life, honor Mother Earth, Father Sky…healing land, wounded people, healing people, Diné …

One thousand miles, hours on the road to reflect, memories surface provoked by faces in the rock…

I am a child, full of wonder…seeing this world for the first time…

I feel this land, I rejoice, I laugh, I sing…

Nestled with those I love…I remember…

My mind wanders to struggles, less severe than those of the humankind whose land I travel, but as many layers…
I feel this land, I am angry, I mourn, I grieve…

Descending with baby steps into the gaping hole, I am swathed by Mother, as Father calls out stern warnings to pay attention…
I feel this land, I cry, I gasp, I am afraid but I move forward…

Spiraling upward I sweat, I huff, I clamber, exerting to ascend, I soar with the condor for just a brief moment… my confidence builds…

I feel this land, , I am unsure, I am unsteady; I take leap of faith…

Encircled within deep red rock, I pause to reflect, wade into the baptismal waters, a new beginning…

I feel this land and I am overcome; I am humbled, I am resuscitated…

I seek, I observe, I move with intention, I excavate artifacts within the stratum, I breathe and embrace the present moment…lost soul parts are returned to me, I am a child of forty-eight…

I feel this land, I say one prayer: Thank you.

A week after returning home I have this dream:

I am at an art venue, it is large and open, filled with recycled materials. There are windows all around me. Others are there and we have come to make art projects. We are free to choose whatever materials we want. A female picks a piece of clay that is lumpy and when worked on, reveals a face. I like this material. The face catches my attention. I choose to work with the clay. I take it and mold it into a heart, pushing on it with my palm and working it hard to keep it in shape; its consistency is like putty in my hand…


Writer Kellie Meisl is a visual artist in Pittsfield, Massachusetts who often works out of waking and night dreams. This piece appeared first on her blog, called WALK. Her website is at KellieMeislDreamArt.