I walk a beach in deep night, following instructions I received in a dream (a dream within a dream). It is difficult to see anything but the foam of the ocean as it meets the shore. From a distance I can barely make out a shape. Getting closer, I see the outline of the woman I am to meet; she seems to be kneeling in the sand, or standing in a hole in the sand, such that most of what I see of her is from the waist up. She is facing me, and as I walk toward her, I realize there is another woman coming from behind her. I wonder at the likelihood of someone else being randomly out for a walk at this time of night. As I get closer still, I realize that from four directions, maybe more, other women are walking toward her; she has become the center toward which we are all moving. I understand that we have been called, or she has called us, to her. The call came in a dream, but this is a real place in another dimension, not a dream. Another of the women turns to me and smiles broadly, seemingly exhilarated, as wind whips her hair about her face. I sense that whatever this meeting is, whatever is about to transpire, we women are meant to be in it together.
And then, in an instant, I am no longer on the beach, but in a room with a beloved teacher from waking life. Other students are also with us. The teacher watches me closely, and I sense that she is aware of what has transpired for me. The profundity of the experience on the beach is overwhelming me but I do not speak. The teacher says some words, then dismisses me and the others. I approach her and begin to cry, trying to convey that I understand, I truly understand in my body that the beach in the dream is a REAL place, and each of the women who appeared on the beach was called separately, but met the call in another realm at the exact same place and time. I tell my teacher that I am awestruck by the knowledge that meeting like this can actually happen.
The dream world is a real world. In the dream, I know it; my body knows it. Maybe somewhere in my DNA is the memory of my farthest-back ancestors who knew about and charted their lives by this alternate reality—a place from which calls may issue and be answered, in which alliances might be forged.
I do not know the identity of the woman who called us to her, who kneels on or is partially in the earth; either way, her posture/relationship to the earth is notable—it is one of connection—and she is clearly at the center. We met her under the cover of night, at the edge where ocean meets land; a threshold.
In the physical world, we seem to be at a threshold—as one era dies and a new one seeks to emerge. As the inevitable negative consequences of our current ways of living continue apace, if we are able to expand ourselves and our understanding of what is possible beyond this material plane, then visiting this otherworld may be one way we will continue to meet—covertly, perhaps, as the times may increasingly require—each other, our ancestors and other kin, and the wisdom that is needed to discover new (old) ways of connection, reconnection, healing, and restoration so life might flourish once again.
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About the Author
Kristin Flyntz is the editorial content director for a corporation. Her interests include the Literature of Restoration as taught by Deena Metzger, and the principles and practices of Being Sanctuary, to which she was introduced by G.A. Bradshaw and the Kerulos Center for Nonviolence. Her work has appeared in Dark Matter: Women Witnessing, Cloud Women’s Quarterly Journal, The Corona Transmissions, and The Pivot: Addressing Global Problems Through Local Action. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and two feline companions.