This dream caught me by surprise. I spent the night before the 2004 election like many others, watching, waiting and praying.

In the morning, before I knew the final result, I awoke with the following dream embers. Maybe you can help me understand it… I saw a television clip that was both sad and amazing. A humpback whale and her child are somehow hovering in the air, covered in oil and lava, and breaching again and again in anguish behind a barbed wire fence.

I enter the dream, pass the fence and am in an oil refinery compound that is situated on an ocean coastline. The ocean shore and waters are all black with oil. Standing on the sticky black beach, I saw a pod of whales coming towards the oil slick shore and thought they were just going to beach themselves.

A wise woman appeared and said that whales respond incredibly to a type of hypnosis-communication called Romanieme. She then counted to 4 in this latin-like language and the whales seemed to respond. They perked up enormous eyes at her from the water and then started hovering out of the water–literally swimming 12 feet in the air.

The pod of whales, males, females, and babies hovered into the factory, covered in oil, searching, searching. They were searching for a home, healing, searching for some sympathetic humans who could right the wrongs, restore their health, their homes and give them a place to stay in the meantime.

Thinking I’m responding to the humpbacks’ call for help, I fly like superman to find a solution and land near a house where a group of four 13-year-old girls are smoking. I feel like a cop but I don’t have a uniform or weapon. I had some kind of badge in my pocket, which I flashed to the girls and began some kind of fire-prevention/ anti-smoking operation.

The girls flicked their still lit cigarettes on the ground and languidly giggled inside. “Knock, Knock.” Again at their door, I flash my plain-clothes badge to mom, and explained about fire-prevention. I pointed to the smoldering cigarettes on the ground, where a small fire already had appeared at the base of a near-dead tree.

I helped mom put out the fire and left with the group of young people–the four 13yr-olds and a 10 year-old, afro-clad boy with an attitude. He reached under the back of my shirt, to my confusion, then suddenly pulls up the rear lining of my boxers and all the kids laugh. I grab his underwear and return the favor, then kick one of his shoes into the back of the other calf–a trick I used to do in Jr. High to trip up my friends. He stumbles. “Hopefully he’ll learn his lesson,” I grin.

We rhythmically walk into the city and startled to find an oil-covered humpback whale, glistening black and grey, floating through the city flanked by a baby whale. What is she looking for? How can we help?

I had this amazing technicolor dream once that I entitled “Sherrif’s Creek.” I’d like to make it into a full novel someday, or a screenplay if I could.

I dreamt that my father, brother, and I lived in the early stages of the American Industrial Revolution (1850’s)?. I was a very masculine figure built like He-man with long blonde hair. My father had just invited my brother and I to what I thought was another hunting trip but turned out to be the search for a sacred well, a spring called Sherrif’s Creek in the middle of the forest.

We were trying to find it because my dad wanted us to become very wealthy–I don’t know why. Perhaps we were looking for homestead land to map out, perhaps we were going to pan for gold. After five days journey into the northwest we came to a forest in foothills of the Applachians.

A business man had set up some kind of museum in a series of caverns. He was charging people to search the caverns, knee-high in water and illuminated on one side by sunlight, for minerals and water. It was this man who pointed us in the direction of Sherrif’s creek, into the frontier.

We passed the caverns on a thick forest trail and soon after we were ambushed by natives. My father and brother were killed but my swift and muscular body somehow fled to safety.

Now alone on the journey to find this creek and in the midst of so many natives somewhere in this wilderness, my dream then becomes an immersion story like dances with wolves. Somehow I am accepted into the midst of a certain tribe of peoples by Sherrif’s Creek and become fluent in their language.

I fall in love with a beautiful young woman of the tribe and I’ll never forget that the wedding ceremony consisted of us being bathed in mud to draw out our impurities. Crusted brown from head to toe, we knelt on our hands and knees at the feet of the Medicine Warrior, their priest, who incanted ceremonious chants which were echoed by the congregation. Then we bathed in the mineral spring & I layed with my wife for the first time.

Then while I sat up to meditate in the Native tradition, she slept. And while she slept she dreamt and somehow I experienced her dream as well while I was in meditation. She dreamt that she was in a forest and storming like a herd of buffalo was a bounding herd of dogs and cats steaming past her. She woke up in so much joy and told me her dream: “It means that the Great Spirit has granted us lots of children,” she proclaimed in bliss & joy and we were so happy.

But apparently, the dogs and cats stampeding through the forests were not the good omen she had hoped it was.

Then the rest of white society caught up to us and we were no longer protected by the frontier. A railroad was under construction which was running a stones throw from the sacred village. My new role in the tribe went from outsider to interpretor and in the midst of periodic violence between my two peoples I helped to negotiate some kind of peace agreement. Yet part of the terms of that agreement swept me up on the train away from my new home & family

I had a very vivid dream once while I was living on Kauai. I ‘awakened’ in my dream and found myself floating face down in a fetal position in the middle of the ocean without any ship or lifejacket, yet I was peaceful.

This felt totally real–vivid color, coldness of the water, the wind, the sky, the whole works. An endless period of time passed and it seemed I was just waiting for something. Then at some point something opened in my heart and I asked for some help from the universe from the bottom of my soul.

Instantaneously, something emerged from the depths of the ocean. Simultaneously a giant pair of hands enfolded my entire body in its cupped ladle and the head of a giant woman appeared 30 yards away in the water, towering over me.

A pair of pale blue eyes each larger than the size of my head gazed at me with so much love, reflecting the gentle ripples of ocean. Her hair spun in wavy curls down way past her shoulders into an unknown depth into the water, seemingly light brown with reddish highlights at the same time unless the red sky of a sunset was deceiving me. This giant woman picked me up out of the ocean and stood up, making the ocean seem like a bath tub to her naked body, barely covering her waist. She held my body near to her collar like I was a doll or figuring and filled me with the deepest and most healing love I had ever experienced. “Who are you?” I asked without words. “I am Ishtar,” she replied. That was the end of the dream, yet it has stayed with me my whole life.

The amazing thing was I had never heard that name before. About a week later on a friends coffee table a book was placed in my path that entitled, “Gods and Goddesses Throughout History.” I looked up Ishtar just for fun and found the entry read, to my utter surprise: “Mesopatamian Goddess of Fertility, wife of Tammuz. Also known as Isis in Roman(?) and later civilizations.” This dream happened at a time in my life when I really needed healing. This dream absolutely became an unforgettable anchor for the ongoing recovery into wholeness and balance into a being of love. I’d love to paint this image someday.

Peace b with u,
Oren

Dreamt I saw a spiritual master speaking to a crowd. In his face was a gentle, radiant energy and upon it shone the glow of a setting/rising sun. A creative power seemed ready to mysteriously act upon his every syllable, as though he could say anything and it would come true. He said it was important to be consistent no matter what you do: if your body is cleansing you need to get a consistent amount of sleep each night–you can’t deprive yourself four days a week and then sleep for 18 hours to “catch up.” He spoke with a very simple form of common sense that caught people’s attention and allowed him to apply that logic or expertise to the spiritual world.

Then I was at a gathering or party for young people and another spiritual master was there, a woman this time. This master decides to take some children hiking in the clouds. At first she just commented on how beautiful the rays of light were on the mountain mist, then she said something that made a child think the mountain mist itself could be climbed. Lo and behold! Following the master, a child did climb the mountain mist like little spring boards. Three more children joined this child, bouncing upon the springy fluffs and disappearing behind the gray mist. “No way.” I thought, following like clues to a mystery. But my doubts seemed confirmed when I saw green grass and a trail in the dispersing mist. I followed the trail but somehow never caught up to the master and three children. Just before waking a glimpse of a child’s shadow with a giggle seemed to appear in the clouds above.