Dream Foxes Visit in the Snow
It went like this:
Night was falling and I found myself in the center of a large basin surrounded by a natural ridge. Snow was on the ground and a chill in the air, but the sky was clear. At the top of the ridge I detected movement and soon realized that a small trio of foxes were emerging from a cave above me. They trotted elegantly along the lip of the basin, stopped and stared at me for some minutes, then continued on, heading my way.
I was startled, were they friendly? Should I be cautious? I tried to move up my side of the basin to create distance, so I could keep an eye on them from far away. As I walked the snow became like quicksand, my feet, ankles, calves sinking with each laborious step until finally the snow had locked above my knees and I was anchored, helpless to move. All the while the little band of foxes was making its way steadily to my side. Panicked at my immobility and helplessness, I woke.
Upon reflection, to me, this dream was all about my grief process. The snow a perfect metaphor of feeling cold and stuck in the sadness, not yet able to move ahead. The trio of foxes, of course are Mom, Dad and Debbie, friendly but frightening,for to meet them is to meet my loss head on.
When I did some casual research on symbolism (thank you Carl Jung, who acknowledged the importance of cultural references in his work) I was interested to read that in China, a fox sighting was thought to be a message from spirits of the deceased, which resonated with what I had already intuitively felt.
Why am I posting this rather personal drawing and story from my dream journal? Well, I just know that there are a few of us here on wordpress grappling with grief and loss, with anticipatory grief and depression. Paying attention to my dreams, taking time to draw them, and then journal about them has helped me in my process. It gives me some reassuring insight as to where I am on this journey. The acts of drawing and writing are just that: physical actions. It helps me move those feelings outside where I can look at them instead of bottling them up in the darkness. Moldy dreams, like moldy lettuce – not good.
I have not been posting much lately and have recenty restricted my posts to mostly visuals. Now you know why. I’ve been stuck in the snow up to my knees.
Here’s to a spring thawing.
Invitation: if anyone has a dream that has helped them along their process of bereavement, or any other challenging process, I would invite you to draw it, write about it and as long as it is within the bounds of your comfort level, (and mine) I’ll post it as a guest post on my blog. I would be honored.