Around a year ago I shared a fascinating Marshmallow Dream with my husband. I mentioned this same Dream to you in my earlier post (Read it here: The biggest neurosis of the mankind) We made an amazing healing ritual together. When he put The Bright White Light and The Center of the Universe into me. But in this post I tell you something else, I tell you about an interesting change in me, that followed this unforgettable Dream.
After this Dream I started to feel a strong gravitation towards white. And have to say this was so completely new and therefore even quite confusing to me. What the fuck!? Me who has covered herself into black inside out for as long as I remember. But suddenly white just started to create so deep pleasant feelings in me. It made me so calm. Some sort of balance had merged into me. I think I could call it happiness too, well anyway something which was so new to me.
It felt so good to look at white. I found myself staring at a white blanket at work..which I, of course, had bought before even noticing what the fuck was that? Where did I put the old black cosy one? Cause it wasn’t just that I felt the need of adding white into my life, but I felt the need of replacing black with it. Black which had been so strongly deeply completely ME, my power colour, my strength, it had represented who I am… (Well, what did I say in my another post about the importance of not jailing yourself into too permanent definitions about who you are -because you are: Ever Changing. Read more about it here: Who are we?)
My favourite room in our house is my herbal room, my black witchy room where I make all my natural cosmetic products and potions. Only that after our healing Dream I started to feel extremely strong resistant towards the room. Distress. I felt it physically, the place was draining my energy away. It wasn’t my favourite room anymore.
..Until I had a dream..In that dream I got a feeling to wash the room with white. I was thinking about it, standing in the room late in the next evening, feeling the energies there. And then I knew what I needed to do. It couldn’t wait until the next day. I found myself in the middle of the night washing the floor of the room with a white paint and a piece of cloth. I washed and washed with round movements, until I felt sooooo relieved. The work was ready.
After that the room has been my favourite room again. It still has black walls but the floor was holding the most of the negative energy and washing it into white made the whole room easy to breath in again. Of course afterwards my tables in the room and bed linens have turned into white, too. As so many other things in my life. White gives me energy, calmness. It’s the real source of strength. It’s me -at the moment, of course.
This is so interesting cause as I said I have earlier loved black so much. I really thought that colour was true me, and that the calmness which it gave to me for so long time would have had innocent roots. But now I think black anyway was a symbol of despair to me. It was my rock-hard build-in defence towards my biggest fear called life. It’s still hard to believe but I know already it’s truth. And it makes this life even more interesting -what do I find out next when the next layer of the peel gets peeled off?
