On Monday I channeled a message from Jeanne about learning to flow. Using a water metaphor she instructed in how to meet the challenges in life head on rather than allowing them to overtake. That night I had the following dream:

I’m with Chuck in a large, sprawling ancient city, Rome perhaps. There is very little vegetation in the city proper; everything is manmade. There are large plazas and stone structures, huge buildings of light colored sandstone, gigantic columns, streets covered in large planks of a similar light colored sandstone. The city is beginning to flood.

We are out walking before dawn, aware of the coming flood. We can actually see it coming from a distance as we stand on an elevated plaza overlooking the city and the valleys beyond. As we walk, the water begins to rise, swirling around our ankles. We see a tidal wave beginning to form, making its way in between the buildings of the city. The tidal wave quickly takes shape and overtakes us.

We begin swimming. I see three people in the water ahead of us, the only other people in this seemingly deserted or still sleeping city. They are dressed in evening clothes; a man in a tuxedo and two women is short black evening dresses. The tidal wave hits them and they go under. I can see from my vantage point that they are not taking the situation seriously. Tired after a night out, they are still in a boisterous mood, unaware of the power and danger of the water.

I take my attention off them as I struggle to swim. For some reason I can only get my left arm out of the water, the right hanging useless beside me. I can barely lift my head out of the water and it’s a struggle to breathe. I’m aware of Chuck swimming strongly behind me and I want to keep up with him, not slow our progress. I can feel his encouraging energy and I want to show him that I can do this, that I’m a strong swimmer too. I lift my heavy left arm out of the water over and over again, trying to swim, flapping like a bird with only one wing. It’s cumbersome and frustrating and I’m not getting anywhere.

I don’t feel panic or fear. I don’t sense imminent danger or death, but I do know that we must flow with the water, that we cannot let it overtake us as the threesome in evening dress are doing. I’m aware that they are still floundering in the water up ahead of us when suddenly I flip over onto my back, without even thinking about it, and now I can swim! Both arms are functioning beautifully. I take long and swift strokes, my chest expanding and opening. I’m breathing easily, deeply, and comfortably by swimming in this manner. Effortlessly I glide along, fast and strong. I can also hear Chuck picking up speed behind me as we take off in the water. I’m amazed at how simple it is, how easily I’m flowing along now, loving it, when a moment before I was struggling to move my arm and take a breath. I am now in totally right alignment with my body and the water.

Next, in a second dream, we go to a friend’s house. Her ceiling is leaking. She has had someone come and look at it and the diagnosis is that nothing is wrong with the roof. I ask her if she trusts the guy because to me it’s very obvious that something is seriously wrong. We stand in her kitchen while the water pours down. It’s as if we’re standing outside in a heavy downpour.

I turn to Chuck and whisper: “I think she just doesn’t want to face the truth that there is a problem. Tired of having so much to deal with, she’s electing to ignore what’s so obvious. She’s almost insisting that her roof is not leaking.”

“People can ignore things for a long time. Eventually they get there. She’ll get there,” he says, as we leave her to resolve her issues in her own manner and in her own time.

My dreams ended there, but meanwhile, Chuck was dreaming right beside me, of slipping on a steep icy mountain slope. On the eve of the summer solstice and cusp of the water sign of Cancer—the night after Jeanne had guided us to learn to flow, using a water metaphor—we both dreamed of water. My dreams were of water in liquid form, feminine energy, as I see it; while Chuck dreamed of water in its solid form, ice, masculine energy. In his dream he too did not feel fear or danger, only the process of trying to figure out how best to navigate the slippery slope. We both had to figure out how to flow with what we were presented with, all in keeping with Jeanne’s message of learning to flow rather than float, taking charge rather than being overwhelmed, overtaken, or simply ignoring the truth of what is happening.

I see, in my own dream, the struggle of my ego, wanting to keep up with Chuck, and wanting to show off. For a long time I have envisioned my right side as my ego self. I’ve had many experiences of this, a true fact as I now see it. In this first dream, this right side, my human earthly self, is compromised. My left side, which I consider my spirit self is struggling. I am dreaming and in my energy body so my ego, my right side, does not function properly, yet my ego is making the decisions. Suddenly spirit, my energy body, usurps ego. It flips over and it is only then that I am in total sync, dream and energy body in alignment. This was a moment of enlightenment for me, when Jeanne’s message made even deeper sense, showing me the greater meaning of spirit in alignment with circumstances that are beyond our control.

These dreams were dreams of awareness, yet there was also another part of the deeper self in operation, offering guidance: the ancient deserted city perhaps suggesting this ancient self in my dream and the mountain in Chuck’s dream implying the same. Both Chuck and I did not struggle with the circumstances, either with worry or attachment, but we dealt only with the immediate process of how best to navigate the situation, how best to flow.

This attitude of flowing was contrasted by the second dream I had, of my friend, indicative of the tired ego self not wanting to deal with yet another catastrophe, another problem. In choosing to ignore the water pouring into her house, she offers us the same insight that the three partiers from my first dream suggest, that we can get overtaken and swept under by the force of nature taking its natural course. How long do we really want to do that? How long do we want to allow the ego, tired or inflated, to be in control? How long are we going to struggle before we shift ourselves into a more comfortable swimming stroke? For as long as we need to, as Chuck suggests, but eventually, as he also suggests, people get where they need to get.

I think it’s funny that Chuck and I lay side by side and dreamed a balanced sort of composite dream, the masculine and feminine actually in sync, attempting to get it right, both equally focused on seeking the means of flowing, in alignment with what we were presented with by Mother Nature.

Happy dreaming, happy flowing,
Jan