Going Home (heart plant) April 5, 2003
We were traveling in this dream and I was going home. I don’t know where we were, but it was a warmer climate than we were used to. I seemed to know where I was, but of course everything had changed over the years. The city had grown and it did not feel like it was as safe as I knew it before.
There were some good men that we were to meet in secret. I don’t recall exactly what happened after we arrived at our destination, or even whether we met the men, because my attention was drawn towards a particular plant. The moment I saw it I began to cry because I knew this plant, it reminded me of my birth home. I don’t remember how I got there, but suddenly I was home and I was carrying my little plant.I was told it was called a love plant (philodendron), I think because of its heart shaped leaves that are a very rich dark green. My plant was not very big, but it had lots of leaves at the base and then one shoot that went straight up the center with its perfect heart shaped leaf bending over.
I also felt this plant had something to do with Christmas where I was from, but I’m not sure. It’s possible Christmas was significant only because I received this plant as a gift at that time of year, to take this plant on my journey to my new home and always remember from where I came. I imagine it was taken away upon arrival at my new destination though, as I don’t remember having it after that. But the sight of this plant made me heave a big sobbing cry, very emotional. I could not find any association of the heart plant with Christmas, leading me to ponder it was a parting gift, and a major factor for my perennial struggle during the season of joy.
Home was a ranch house with a barn and horses. There was such a different feel to the place. Once again I became very emotional as I looked around, the buildings were familiar but very different than the style we see here in Canada. There were a lot of people waiting there wanting to help me, but because I was crying so much their faces did not register with me. Everything was a bit of a blur.
Then a woman came up to me carrying a small figure of a horse; a carving of my childhood pony, Angelina. She was pointing at the horse and was asking me if she had got the colours right. I told her she would need to make the belly much whiter. I was crying again and this time it woke me up.
It felt so real, the place where I was, the people I met. This was the place where my surrogate parents had lived, had accepted me as their own. My eyes were wet when I awoke, the tears were not just in my dream, they were a reality. I wondered if I had disturbed Patrick’s sleep with all my sobbing, but it appeared I had not. He was busy in his own dreams.
Patrick also had a dream that night we had traveled to a place called Gramercy Park. This was a place I knew and recognized as having visited before, although I didn’t know its name or location. In his dream he asked me where we were. I said to him, “Don’t you recognize Gramercy Park? I used to live here.”
We looked up Gramercy Park to learn it was the neighbourhood in New York city where JFK lived as a boy. It occurred to us this was probably where the lady on the winding staircase from my other dream lived.*
Note— The philodendron is native to Argentina. Philodendron cordatum, commonly called the Heart Leaf Philodendron for its 2-4 inch heart-shaped leaves and is endemic to southeastern Brazil and Argentina. Philodendrons also produce cataphylls; modified leaves which surround and protect newly forming leaves, usually green, leaf-like and rigid while protecting the leaf.
*see Fragments, Chapter II, page 85
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