Dear Dreamers,
Howdy. How are you? As I write this, the first dregs of spring have hit Oklahoma, and I am occasionally feeling bursts of creative surety and revelation, both of which are much welcome after a fruitful but emotionally intense winter. I’ve been making iced lattes at home, including: s’mores, banana bread, apple pie, and brown butter tahini. I’ve been baking bread, just simple yeasted loaves, and yearning for more counter space. I’ve been taking pictures on film, specifically 35mm, with my Canon Snappy AF. Mostly landscapes of Southwestern Oklahoma, but other things, too. The bowling alley out on old Route 66, a serendipitous symbol at a campsite, a diner full of bikers I now somehow know.
I’ve been worried, too, of course. I don’t know anyone who isn’t. But I’ve been trying, at least, to unplug. To see the world outside of my phone and computer. To dive deeper into my art. To leave the house. To pet the cats more. To plan a future, one that may look different than I once envisioned, but is no less worthwhile. Perhaps it’s even more so. Something has hit me, in the past six months, something that everyone I trust to read for me saw coming, but that I, in all my sight, could never have predicted. What I am trying to say is that it probably is a sign, if you can read it. Even if it wasn’t the one you were looking for.
Sending you good dreams,
Cowboy
Queer Dream Interpretation
I dreamt I was in a practice room with a bunch of people who played a flute like instrument and I was being pressured by this pretty girl to play it but the flute contained some sort of parasite that looked like a varroa mite (bee pest) that made you better at playing the flute and compelled you to play the flute and spread the flute parasite. The girl tried to lure me into playing it by saying it would make my hair shinier. I made a deal with the parasite I got to play as long as it didn’t use its hooks on my mouth and played super old songs. The pretty girl made me be second chair and demonstrate to the practice room and I was so anxious. I tried to stop other people from accepting the parasites but no one believed me. Then there was a metalworking area where I made flutes?
– Max
Dear Max,
Thank you for the gift of your dream. When I was a kid, late in the afternoon of a sleepy summer day in rural Oklahoma, I watched The Faculty (1998) while my grandmother snored in her recliner and my grandfather snored in their bedroom down the hall. The trailer was muffled with the sound of the window units, but I held onto every terrifying scene. The pool. The slug-like creatures. All this to say, this is what your dream reminded me of, that day when I watched something I might not have otherwise been allowed to.
You mention a few things, in your note to me, which give important context to this interpretation, and which I’ll list here: You once had bees but now do not, you played an instrument, though not the flute, and you think this is an anxiety dream, though you are not sure what in your waking life to respond with, which I totally understand. Sometimes there is no response, just the living, but in this case I think there might be for you.
Surrounded by people, you are pressured, and your peers are courting you into behaviors you know are dangerous. You are the only one, it seems, that is worried, and anxious, and scared. But you must remember, dear Max, that this dream is not a 1:1 for your life. Yes, your anxiety took the shape of bee larvae, in this case, and yes, as you shared, you are timeline wise behind your peers, but you are not as alone in the world as you feel you are. Those infected in your dream stand as symbols for what you feel you are lacking, and what you feel being left behind, so to speak. But everyone takes their own road, and just because this society, this world, we live in prioritizes one mode of being, doesn’t mean there isn’t light at the end of the tunnel, and doesn’t mean a meaningful life isn’t ahead of you.
All this to say: Don’t take any easy “fixes” for what you feel ails you socially, routine wise, and the like. Take the time to think about the road you are heading down, and, most importantly, the road you want to head down. Have grace for yourself, for your body, and for your mind. I believe something good will follow suit.
See you on the Other Side,
CC
Question of the Week
How do I queer my meditation/spiritual/mystical/witchy practice?
Dear Anon,
Thank you for the gift of your question. I don’t think there are any bad questions, of course, especially not in the realm of the mystical, the mysterious, but this one is a particularly good one, and gave me a lot to think about.
It’s a beautiful thing, being queer. I didn’t always feel like that, but now I do. Not in a particularly soft way, either. It feels more like a knife sharp thing, spiritually speaking. I’m not sure I could feel “normally” about my gender and sexuality and feel the things I feel, see and conjure the things I do.
That said, I think we could all do with queering our practice at least a little more, and so here are a few suggestions to get you started.
- Involve more queer people in your practice, outside of yourself. It may seem simple, but it is vital. I’m not necessarily saying start a coven, but hell, you might want to! You can also bring friends over for spell work, meditate with your partner, or even just pray for your friends. Keeping them, and love, in your spiritual space is always a good thing.
- Bring your practice into the “real” world. Queerness is, and has always been, part of revolution. We’re in a particularly scary time in the world, and I know we’re all feeling it, but there are things we can do. That includes not falling into despair and hopelessness. While going out and volunteering might not seem like a spiritual practice, I promise you it is. So is ICE Watch. So is picking up litter. By feeding into the world, and our community, we feed ourselves right back. Energy you put out is energy you harness, and we can all do something, however small.
- Plant a community/backyard/or stoop garden. Again, not something you immediately think of as a mystical practice, but by tending to the earth, we tend to Spirit, especially as the destructive impacts of climate change are beginning to make themselves known. It’s another facet of revolution, which is inherently queer. Whether it’s a bucket of herbs on your balcony you bless, a vegetable patch you speak to, sing to, and pray over, or flowers with spiritual meaning you hand out to neighbors, planting and sowing are ancient practices, and help guide us back to ourselves.
- Lean into your queerness. I’ve been thinking about this last suggestion a lot lately, especially as a resident in a Southern state, as it sometimes isn’t safe to be visibly queer, but I’m still trying. Whether it be in your self-expression, in your language to yourself or others, or even just in your approach to dating, you should lean into yourself, into the person you know that you are or truly want to be, and Spirit will reciprocate that generosity. I’ve found that even lighting a candle for one’s past self, for the version that might have contained shame or heartbreak about a now cherished identity (or not yet cherished, but hopefully soon to be) will open gateways for better readings and interpretations, in the realm of Tarot or elsewhere.
Good luck, and see you on the Other Side,
CC
