I was going to call this post "Dream Premonition", except I seemed to have a vague memory of using that title once before. Turns out I was right. In any case, the forces of the deep mind have been stirring some more. The question I must face: What do I do with it?

The dream was convoluted; so much so that I'm not going to bother attempting to bend it into a linear narrative. But it was powerful.

I was receiving messages about an eco-village in the west part of Oregon (in rhetrospect, this aspect of the dream was almost certainly influenced by a post I read last night on cryptogon).

On the net, I had been reading the second ongoing novel written by Ran Prieur. Except that it wasn't a novel, exactly. More like a coded autobiographical tale. The latest chapter of his novel indicated that he was disillusioned with the community he had been working in, and would also be heading to the ecovillage.

I remember thinking that it was time for me to go there too, but I wasn't sure if I could afford it. The entrance fees might be more than I had. (Indeed, some of the ecovillages I've researched online do seem to have rather pricey upfront investment fees, along with fairly steep yearly dues; I don't see how anyone who isn't already on the upper end of the middle class could possible afford to live there. But maybe not all of them are that way.)

The boyfriend of [older woman who works at the gas station] informed me that he was also planning to go. He assured me that he had already visited there once, and it didn't cost anything to get into this one. (Background: In reality, last night, he was in there talking with me and another coworker about the virtues of being single. Freedom is where it's at.)

So, having decided to go, there I was at the ecovillage. I saw Ran Prieur and talked to him. (How strange it is to meet someone in person who you've known only by their online persona for years. The jury is still out on whether it's stranger to do so in a fictional dream reality, or in the actual physical world.)

In between the cracks and around the edges, rearranged, fragments and pieces that, though vivid, defy description. Some bits so deeply personal that I don't even feel like trying to relate them. Others, just too bizarre.

There were also warnings in the dream. I was told, in a fairly graphic manner, that some ecovillages are a trap -- systems of control even more thoroughly coercive than our current civilization. The archons are hard at work trying to corrupt and pervert these oases of human restoration.

The solution to the harms of addiction lies in keeping our human ties strong, not letting each other drift apart, even if it just seems like just a temporary trip to visit home one last time (represented as Colorado in the dream). We do still need to make that trip home before we can embark on the new life, but we should not go alone.

But in reality, I haven't even reached Western Oregon yet. When I awoke, I knew the message was strong, but I wasn't sure what to do with it. Should I be quitting my job to drive to the northwest coast next month? Doubtful. (Though I guess it could be possible.)

But what I can translate into the immediacy of the present is that it may indeed be time for a transition of some sort. But this notion comes from more than just one dream. I'm going to go into Open Harvest a bit early today and see what's going on. It's the closest thing I have to a beacon in my immediate meatspace surroundings.

No promises, no certainties. I'm just in a different phase of the cycle than I was in an hour ago. Time is not linear, nor is life. The pattern is here. The pattern is now. The pattern is everywhere. Flow with the pattern.