Last night was fitful. It was hot and humid, and I woke again and again, finally going out to the living room to try to sleep on the couch. I did sleep, but was awakened again around 3:00 am by a group, led by a loud male voice, singing Celtic music. It was not a peaceful night.
During its course, I had many complicated, disjointed dreams, but one of them came to the surface of my mind this morning and stayed. It was another in the series of infrequent but significant dreams I've had about seeing things in or above the water of the lake where I grew up.
In the dream, I am standing near the Boat Lot, an unbuilt piece of land held in common by the Lake Association for the purpose of launching boats by people who didn''t have water frontage. As it was when I was young, the sandy lot is covered with short scrubby weeds, and sloped downward toward the lake. There used to be a short dock, from which you could often see large carp in the warm shallows, gliding under the lily pads that covered this small cove, but there is no dock in the dream. Instead, I am standing up on the bank. Someone else is beside me, but I don't know who it is. Looking down toward the water, I see a large fish -- a huge fish -- moving slowly among pond weeds of the same brownish color as its back. Aloud, I say to my companion, look, look at that huge fish. The fish is the size of a dolphin, as mall whale, and it's definitely not a carp. It has a thick bony back with spiny protuberances, and a long tail. In the dream, I don't identify the fish, but on waking I know: it's one of these.
Then the sturgeon changes into a woman. I don't know how this is accomplished, and I don't exactly see it in the dream; I simply know it. Next I am in a dark room paneled with barn boards; perhaps it actually is a coverted barn or shed. The walls are covered with artwork: artwork done by this shape-shifting woman. My companion is no longer with me, but there is anolder man in the room; he is the woman's father who seems responsible for her. Somehow I learn that she has been ill -- some sort of cancer -- but she has recovered and continues to do this work, which I study on the walls. Although the images do not remain in the morning, in the dream I am moved by them, and tell her father that they are very powerful and beautiful. Only at that point does the woman herself enter the room; I encounter her indirectly, as if in my peripheral vision. She is in young middle age; has short blond hair and is wearing a white blouse; her presence is extremely beneficent. I repeat my feeling about her work and she smiles but does not speak, and I wake up.
Tomorrow: my interpretation -- but feel free to offer yours!