My dreams greatly influence my poetry. There always have been dreams I remembered even before 1993. There is a group I call “The Nine.” But, those will be for a future book and not now. Here I will talk about my search to understand what began that March day in 1993. I have always found dreams interesting but they do not guide what I decide to do. I mention too because a few are part of my poem In My Dreams (my Jesus) on page 8 of By the Pond.

In 1993, when the flood of emotions and dreams came, I was overwhelmed on so many levels. My dreams always demonstrated an intuitive quality at times. I dreamed of a couple of people before I met them. Once I dreamed a cousin of mine had an accident in his yellow car – a boulder rolled and hit it. A call came the next day and it had really happened at the time I was dreaming (he was fine). These dreams were few and far between and never indicated when or where so I did not dwell or worry about my dreams. I always thought of my dreams as dreams and never searched for them in reality. If something happened and connected then it just did.

When the intense dreaming started with the returned dreams from my youth (dreams I did not recall until I saw them again), I needed to search for understanding. The dreams suggested there had been an Apache medicine man lost in our family history. True or not that cannot be proven. However, my Gramma (Italian) who raised me and her mother had  a small amount of visions. My Gramma during court hearings for my sister and I saw the face of Jesus on the wall before the day of the last hearing. She also saw my dad at a Charismatic prayer group meeting. Her mother she told me one time sat holding a very sick son. Gramma said her mother asked the Lord if the boy was hers let him get well, but if he was His to take him. Jesus appeared and opened His arms and Gramma’s brother died (9 years old, I think just ahead of the big influenza outbreak around 1918).  So I can say I have an open mind about such things, and the Native Americans gave me somewhere to look to try understand dreams in a different way – in a more spiritual and poetic way.

What I came to believe about my dreams is that they are intuitive but designed only for me. Dreams are personal. Breadcrumbs for me to find my way out of a very dark and frightening place. I am an observer in my dreams much of the time. Feeling things about what and who I see. Sometimes I interact and talk with someone. I do not remember all my dreams. When I do remember though I cannot let go – so I write it down. After I write it down, I can let go of it. Otherwise it swims around in my head. I use many of their images and emotions in my poetry. Dreams are poetry that can reflect the past, present, and for me a bit into the future with the when, where, and how unclear. So I cannot predict anything. I do not anticipate what they may mean only use them as a way to express an idea.

My dreams are often not pleasant. No rose colored glasses in my dreams. My mother stands in front of me in one with a bleeding slit wrist. Something I was told she tried once. So does the dream suggest I saw it? In my dreams I walk through a lot of sewage flowing from bathrooms and into the streets. I am sometimes in crowds that are almost suffocating. These are just a few. I clearly use many of my dreams in poems in By the Pond and some not so clearly. They work in the poetry and find a home. My conscious self always the filter.

Reading about dreams I came across Native American Contraries.  Contraries (called clowns) do things backwards or opposite. They are teachers, healers, and fierce warriors. I found myself. I made sense to me. To be contrary is not a conscious decision for me. Contrary is who I am. When pregnant, I barely gained weight. I gain 12 pounds with my son and 4 pounds with my daughter. My doctor panicked with my son and acted like “oh well” with my daughter. I understand by getting the whole picture first and breaking it down – not piece by piece and put it together. I do not react to situations the same as most people. You cannot understand my reaction unless you get to know me and ask me. I seem passive and trusting but am not. My husband told me when we were first married that he thought, “people could just lead me around by the nose.” I asked him in about the mid-1990s if he still thought that. He said, “Oh God, no.” I sit back and watch to get a feel for the people and situation. To understand some situations takes time and patience. Though I come off many times as impatient, I can be very patient.