I am returned to Real de Catorce

After 11 of, perhaps, the strangest years of my life, thus far, I am returned to Real de Catorce.

As I walk the old cobble stones of this desert place of magical reality in the Northern Mexican highlands I am reminded of how I left all that was familiar, static, stagnant repetitious in my former life and entered into the realms of the Wonder World which I inhabit now.

Here in Real de Catorce many strange realms intersect. For at least 3,000 years people have come here to experience the mysteries of the great medicine - Peyote. For about two hundred years this has been a place of healing by the miraculous intervention of St. Francis. In May, 1997 I left this place to return to the United States and began a voyage that led to betrayal, being down by law, being reviled and despised and then led to the shedding of the old skin and the coming into the new (see Jah D.E.P. at www.libbyhome.blogspot.com).

The beginning of this most current voyage, which I am now narrating, began with me being again reviled and despised and driven out of Mystic, CT (see narrative of the voyage...at www.libbyhome.blogspot.com). But the voyage since leaving the Mystic has been borne by fair winds of spirit. The voyage has been a succession of beautiful, wonderful engagements of the world. I seek and find the employment that is seeking me. I am able to give. I am with those I love. I resonate in their being. I grow in The Power of Love. I shed the old skin and come into the new.

And yet the morning before I crossed the border I again cried out in my dream, woke myself with my scream.

I was on the train going from Austin to Del Rio, Texas. The train was stopped over in San Antonio. It was early morning, all were asleep.

I dreamed I was staying at someone's place. They had these seemingly benign, cow-like animals, that were treated as pets. When I was alone with these creatures they attacked, covered me, and were suffocating me.

As it was, in my dream, two years ago when I was entering Mexico on a bus (see narrative of the voyage...at www.libbyhome.blogspot.com) I was, at first, unable to make a sound. Then I was able to make some muffled, stifled sounds. Then I woke myself with a full-throttled scream

Unlike two years ago my scream didn't seem to be particularly noted by my fellow passengers. They briefly wakened. Then they went back to sleep.

The only experience that I can think of which could be a source of this dream is the supernatural, flying red heifer.

Two weeks ago I was at Uncle Mark's Phat Farm. Uncle Mark and his wonderful family are all denizens of the Wonder World. When I was there it seemed to be the time to bring this beautiful, fat, red heifer to the slaughter house.

Moving like murderers and assassins we herded the red heifer to the lip of the trailor. She saw cheese-us in the trailor, in the tunnel. She turned around. Mark whipped her in the face.

And then magical reality interposed. The red heifer sproughted wings. From a dead stand still she leaped over an at least four foot high fence with at least two feet to spare.

Three times, that day, she was almost recaptured. But it did not happen until three days latter.

My interpretation of my dream is that when you stay in static stagnant repetitious circumstances, the people in those circumstance will form expectations of what you should be.

And so you must be a leaping into the wild, blue yonder red heifer passer-by - so that you can be who you are - so you can be free to accept the invitation.