Healing Houses by Norberg Sheldon;

Author:Norberg, Sheldon; [Norberg, Sheldon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ronin Publishing

Dreams — Theirs

AS I STATED BEFORE, DREAMS are a major part of my personal work, and I have had some doozies. But I don’t live in my clients’ houses. so it’s their dreams I’m most interested in. The barrier between worlds is thinnest at night, and the dream plane is open ground, allowing access not only to our subconscious and unconscious minds, but to each others’, and to whatever else wants to communicate with us. That’s why my clients’ dreams are important to me, because in dreams they’ll have experiences that their rationality can’t deny. They can say that it was only a dream, but the detail and purpose are undeniably real.

Pillow Talk

I had a call from a woman who told me that her dreams were killing her, literally.

Karen had married her boyfriend, who was a widower with three children, whose wife had died a couple of years prior. Karen was a fairly independent artist with her own live/work studio, and before she married her husband he had agreed that when they married they would buy a new home together and start things fresh. After they got married though, he began dragging his feet, and she found that living in her studio was not tenable as a way of starting a family, so she moved into his house. What she experienced there, in her dreams each night, was that her husband’s former wife would come to her, stand over the bed, and smother her with a pillow.

Karen would be wrenched from sleep, terrified, gasping for air, only to find her husband asleep, in the dark. Having had that dream numerous times, and fearing for her life and mind, she decided to move back into her studio to sleep, and commute back and forth to deal with her new family. To me, this was less like going back to square one than going back to square minus-one.

Of course, we do what we have to do to stay alive, and Karen couldn’t sleep with a murderer. Her predecessor held great interest for me, and in discussing the history of the house, she told me that her husband’s widow had been diagnosed with cancer some four years prior, over two years before her eventual death. She had gone through the range of treatment options and fought it as long as she could, but was given a fatal diagnosis at about six months. Despite being armed with this knowledge, she never told her children that she was dying until a few days before her death.

I can only imagine how difficult it would be to let go of my own children, and how hard I’d fight to deny it happening, but such lapses in communication create deep unspoken bonds. Hers caused such a sudden and intense flare of energy that it was impossible for her to disconnect from her children, and she didn’t. She saturated that house, and them. Certainly it was not out of hatred for Karen, but from love for her children, and the inconceivability of letting go of them, that she maintained this connection from beyond.

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