Last Night I Dreamt…

My first remembered dream of 2019 was of bees. I kid you not.

I do dream, but haven’t been remembering them much of late.

But this one was blessedly clear, imprinted in living color on my memory as I awoke. I was left with a peaceful, joyful feeling as the dream washed away in the chill dawn of morn. I entitled it “Bees in the Kitchen”.

I am in the old farmhouse kitchen of my childhood. My tiniest hive of bees is just sitting there on the kitchen counter. They have died. I am storing them there. Suddenly, a bee begins to emerge from the doorway..than another…and another…and another! There are bees flying around the kitchen and I am amazed! Mom is there, but continues to cook, seemingly unperturbed by the bees in her kitchen. I tell one of my brother’s to help me seal them up so we can move them outside. I notice they are clinging to the hive and buzzing about, but not too far from their hive mates. They are alive! My bees have resurrected!

The world of dreams is one of my favorites. In a dreary, despairing world which often has way too much bad news, the night forest of our dreamworlds are populated with fantastical creatures, unexpected twists of fate, places, people that make no living sense in our waking days.

This dream was particularly comforting since the tiny hive featured in my December video did actually die. Some of you might remember me laying my head on the heartbeat of the hive, feeling the warmth in late November, noting the stirrings of a still living hive.

With a few cold snaps and 20 degree nights, I went to check them. They had perished. There was something so poignant about the demise of this tender little hive. I had nourished them into the Fall, hoping upon hope that they would grow large enough to make it through. It wasn’t to be. Their death matched my own dark feelings at the end of the year. I sobbed.

But as 2019 dawned, my bees were alive and well in the the dream time.

This vision will live in my imagination and tide me over until April when I can pop the tops of my bee hives to peek and see if my bigger, stronger colonies survived.

The mythical bees of my dream world reminded me that life springs eternal, even in the midst of death. Bees, as the messengers of resurrection, abundance, and fertility in many traditional and religious cultures, are icons of new life, of the coming Spring —even if the coldness around is daunting.

…Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart. ”

Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

silhouette, wing, light, sky, sun, sunrise

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