Before I was aware of the Journey I was to undertake I had a dream that, even in my ignorance of mythology and symbolism, I recognized as being significant. There’s nothing weird, like blue sparkling ball-people, in this dream, but it had a lot to say. The gist of the message was clear but I was well along in my spiritual journey before I began to understand the archetypal symbolism of many of the details.
In my dream I’m leaving a place where I’ve worked for a long time. My h
air is pulled back tightly and I’m wearing a crisp white business suit. Like my hair, I’m restricted and controlled, “uptight,” and like my apparel, I’m “pure,” i.e., naïve. I wear black high-heeled pumps and have a black leather purse over one shoulder, a black leather document case hanging from the other. I clasp a small black hard-sided valise in my arms; I have a lot of baggage.
I’m in the shadow of a tall red-brick building but I can see clear dark woods, bright blue sky above. A narrow blacktopped alley in front of me goes around the corner of the building to my left. To my right a very tall, very long brick wall attached at a right angle to the building blocks the alley in that direction. The shadow extends only slightly past the far edge of the driveway beyond which is a seductively attractive grassy space that blends into a pleasantly open and light wooded area with dappled shade under tall trees. It resembles a well-kept park but there are no people and no swings or seesaws or other such fixtures. Apparently it’s not for 
amusement.
A broad, smooth concrete walk edged by crisp, neatly trimmed grass is directly in front of me. I can see this walkway disappear in a gentle sweep to the left and down a slight slope not too far into the park. I stand on the threshold gazing into the woods as if looking for some sort of clue or hint or perhaps preparing myself. Finally I take a deep breath and resolutely begin to walk. I know my life is going to change greatly but I have no idea how.
The sidewalk makes walking easy and my heels click rhythmically as I stride briskly along. The weather is comfortable and I glimpse the clear sky whenever I look up through the trees. I negotiate the curve without slowing down or looking back.
The walkway dips into a swale, and then nearly imperceptibly and yet somehow quickly begins to change, morphing from flat smooth concrete to a rough, narrow pavement, then to worn brick and then cobblestones wh
ere my footing is unstable and I have to be careful as I stumble along. As I continue onward the track is further reduced to loose stone and then thin gravel. Finally there’s only the faintest suggestion of a narrow dirt footpath.
As the nature of the path changes, the light under the trees alters, turning dim as the overhead growth becomes dense and tangled. Rampant undergrowth also sneakily appears and crowds the path, branches and vines virulently snagging at my clothes and baggage. The woods changes from a bright, carefully tended park to a dark, threatening wilderness.
I’m doggedly trying to faithfully follow the path (I’m a “good girl,” remember? I do what I’m supposed to do.) but I keep coming up against impassable walls and barriers that force me to look for another way (I work hard, remember?). I can’t go back because whatever way or opening by which I came here has mysteriously closed or disappeared in some other manner.
So I keep moving in what I think is more or less forward even if I no longer know which direction that is. Sometimes I have to scrape between a barricade and the heavily
snarled undergrowth, other times I just have to push and force my way through the tangles and brambles until I can discover the nearly invisible path again. As faint as it’s become, I still try to maintain contact with it (can’t get away from that cultural conditioning). Eventually, it completely disappears and yet I know I must press onward but now without any guidance (Oh dear, what will I do without cultural conditioning?).
As long as I can move, I know I must do so in whatever way I can. The insistent rumble of distant thunder comes closer, followed by rain, at first barely able to penetrate the dense and matted canopy, finally increasing until there’s a thunderous frigid downpour in the midst of what seems to be darkest night.
By this point I’ve lost my baggage as the various pieces snag on tree branches and thorny vines or just simply mysteriously disappear when I set them down while I take a breather. All forms of identification, my purse with my ID c
ards, checkbook, and credit cards, even my document case, have disappeared. Clothing items that I had in my valise have inexplicably been squirming their way out through the tightly closed sides.
On the occasions when I’ve noticed some garment has fallen by the wayside I’ve picked it up and quickly just stuffed it willy-nilly back into the suitcase before more items can wriggle out. No matter how hard I’ve tried, though, things have kept worming out and disappearing. I’ve lost more than I’ve held onto and pretty soon the empty valise is just gone, too.
Finally I’
m standing in the deluge without shoes or personal belongings, disheveled and dripping hair straggling onto my face as my smeared mascara and makeup paint a crazy mask. My suit is tattered and grimy, no longer recognizable as white, and my nylons are shredded, my legs scratched and bleeding. There’s no place to turn, no place to go.
I’m cold and lost, alone and confused, and there’s nothing left of all the important baggage I started out with. I just stand there with my arms held at my waist like a supplicant and look around helplessly. (“I can’t do this anymore!”)
That’s where my dream ended. While I had no idea of the meanings of any specific symbols at the time, or even their presence – and they abound – I couldn’t overlook the general message and its power.
Although I knew what it “meant,” however, I had no idea what it presaged.
Search for Soul 