Merlin

 

I wake from a deep, dreamless sleep into an enchanted cartoon valley where I am filled and surrounded by ‘Merlin’, a pure creative energy named as such within the Celtic tradition. Then I awaken from one dream state into another:

I am entering a plush solicitor’s office in Harrington Street.  It has dark oak panelling and furniture, very solid and tasteful. I am looking for a doctor. The solicitor, a young (40-ish) hippy-looking guy, rakish, with tousled sandy hair and twinkling eyes is there, and also four very attractive women. He says they’ll be happy to help me. I have a number which they generously offer to call but it keeps getting misplaced in ways that I’d find comical if it weren’t for my sense of urgency. Eventually they get through but say there’s no answer. They invite me to go to lunch with them. OK – I’ve no other way of contacting this doctor. We go out to an underground car park. Two women are already in the back of a big black Mercedes, to be driven by the boss. They hold the door open for me to join them. Two others, the blonde receptionist and a frizzy-haired woman pass by to a smaller red car. The frizzy woman smiles seductively at me. We sit waiting a long time. The receptionist opens the boot and rummages around before taking out an electric guitar which she starts playing while singing to me. I say ‘Have you guys heard of Kafka?’ to my fellow non-passengers. One winks at the other and says ‘What’s this thing Kafka has for men?’ ‘I’m thinking of ‘The Castle’, ‘The Trial’, legal complications, endless waiting…’ At this point the solicitor appears bearing two huge silver salvers filled with food. One seems to be raw chicken cut into cubes. The other is a kind of roasted bread. He offers me the chicken. I try it. It looks awful but tastes delicious. Everybody laughs as I eat.

 

I am in an up-market solicitor’s office near my Mother’s. This is not a place I would expect to be at all, given my irrational dislike of solicitors and their ways. Dreams being what they are, there has to be a lesson in this for me. Naturally, I don’t realise it in the dream. All I know is that I am looking for a doctor and have been guided here. I have a clear sense of its location and had expected to find a surgery but evidently this was mistaken.

I explain my dilemma to the secretary/receptionist, a pretty blonde woman who is very sympathetic. She seems to tell everybody in the office because soon three other women are fussing over me, asking if I’m OK and if they can do anything to help.  I assume that they are apprentices or employees of the firm. Then the owner of the practice appears and is also amazingly concerned about someone who has just walked in off the street, offering no business prospect whatsoever.

I’m taken aback by the appearance of this man. He is younger than I would have expected and has a distinctly bohemian style, despite being dressed in a dark, expensive suit. He too offers his help. I am somewhat embarrassed by the extent of their concern, having no way to repay it and no specific information about the doctor I’m looking for. I only have a telephone number on a scrap of paper.

They don’t seem surprised by my lack of information and offer to call the number for me. My sense is that it’s late morning in the dream. I give the number to one of the apprentices. She says she’ll pass it to the secretary. Apparently, the other women get involved in this as well because the number is mislaid and all are drawn into searching for it. I sit in an open-plan, communal office watching this farce unfold. The boss has a private office into which he has disappeared.

The number is eventually located and dialled but I’m told there is no answer at the other end. I think that they must surely now express regret and ask me politely to leave but no, they invite me to have lunch with them. I accept because I’m anxious to make contact with this doctor and the overwhelming sympathy of these people seems to be my only chance of succeeding. All of this felt quite bizarre as I was dreaming it. In my enactment, it feels incredibly weird and unyielding. How am I to interpret such weirdness?

The fact that I’m looking for a doctor suggests that I need healing. This in itself is a surprise after my Cassie dream. I have no specific complaint or illness that I am aware of. Nevertheless, there is something I must see to. I have a sense in my enactment that the women are very forbearing, as if they know more than I do. I can only persist by default and accept all the help that’s being offered by my feminine soul.

I’m surprised to be invited to lunch, and even more surprised to learn that this involves leaving the premises. Also, there is no possibility of having underground car-parks in this area! A car-park is a place where we go to find our vehicle. In dreams it is associated with movement and choice. I am by now feeling pretty stuck, helpless even.

There are only two vehicles in the car-park, a black Mercedes which I guess, correctly, belongs to the man and a smaller red car. Two of the women sit into the back of the Mercedes and call me to join them. I sit in also, on the left side, leaving the door open.

The secretary and the third apprentice head for the smaller car. The apprentice, a very attractive woman with frizzy brown hair, smiles seductively at me, or so it seems. The secretary fiddles a long time in the boot before taking out an electric guitar, which she plays while singing to me. Her song asks me to take her with me on some journey. I have no idea what such eccentric behaviour could mean. After a while, her serenade comes to an end.

The women beside me look highly amused. I try to appear calm and sophisticated by referring to Kafka (a Czech author who wrote harrowing novels about cruel bureaucratic processes). The women’s response is irreverent. They seem to be making fun at my expense, especially regarding my maleness. At the same time, they are clearly good-natured so I never feel hurt or alarmed. I try to play along with a further display of ironic humour and literary knowledge.

The women again seem highly amused, not by my wit but my incomprehension of the situation. Again, enacting, I have a sense of being set up and that they are part of the setting up. I ask, in frustration ‘Who do you guys work for anyway?’ One winks at the other and replies ‘Merrill Lynne Associates’. Both are laughing openly at this point.

Then the ‘solicitor’ finally emerges into the car park, carrying two large silver trays piled high with raw chicken cubes and over-cooked croissants, as far as I can tell. He offers the repulsive-looking ‘chicken’ to me. In my dream, I know only that I have to try it. In my enactment, I realise with a start that I’ve been had – that the rakish, atypical, hippy-looking solicitor is none other than ‘Merrill Lynne’ or Merlin, master magician, illusionist and playful mentor of Arthur, the boy who would be king.

He is also the ‘doctor’ my soul petitioned me to visit, who teaches healing into wholeness beyond recovery from pain. As an aspect of creation that manifests creation, ‘he’ has built a further lesson into my dream by constructing it in terms of a lingering prejudice. I couldn’t see my master magician, a figure I have always loved and admired, because I could see no further than my limiting idea of ‘solicitor’.  My soul has not deceived me. I have been in the right place all along!

The women represent aspects of my intuitive feminine soul who understand perfectly what’s going on and know my masculine foibles all too well. Their work is to soften the blows and play up the funny side of situations I create. The Mercedes pair say, when asked: ‘We were just helping you get to the doctor’. Likewise, the frizzy-haired woman smiled ‘seductively’ just to let my male dream-ego know that they all love me (even though I can be an idiot sometimes).  The blonde woman’s song, I later found, had an additional purpose which I’ll return to shortly.

Let me focus now on the moment when I finally get the point about Merrill Lynne.  Despite my bemusement up to that time, I sense great power in it and appreciate immediately the mythic resonances of being invited to partake of food offered while I’m in the car park, underground. To accept this food is to accept participation in the spiritual order of this other world, including all its weird, miraculous dimensions. I am reminded of Persephone accepting the pomegranate from Hades and thereby contracting to spend half her time in the Underworld with him.

To be extended such an invitation by Merlin feels like a great honour to me, one I accept gratefully and at once. Gathering myself in enactment, I focus fully before taking one of the proffered morsels into my mouth and digesting it slowly. This food is truly of the gods! I experience quantum acceleration in my heart as this meta-physical, spiritual food is absorbed into my energy system. Merrill Lynne invites me to eat my fill and I do, gladly, knowing that this commits me to spending half my time in his ‘car park’.  I continue to experience a strong emotional sense of charge and connectedness until I have eaten my fill.

Later, wishing to ensure that all is in order before finishing, I put my awareness into the women’s roles. The ‘apprentices’, of course, were playing pre-appointed parts. I perceive an affinity between their energies and those of the priestesses from my last dream. When I invite them to merge in consciousness with me, they oblige easily. The blonde secretary tells me she was singing on behalf of the priestesses who hadn’t returned on the first occasion but who wish to do so now. I sense that there is something I must do before I can facilitate this process.

I turn to Merrill Lynne, the energy of magical creation as personified in my dream. It seems appropriate to merge with him and so I walk towards and ‘into’ him. Instead of easy mergence he disappears on impact and I sense a huge, white-bearded Gandalf figure all around me. I then walk through a variety of Merlin representations drawn from Disney, literature, Arthurian legend and the farther reaches of my own imagination. Having exhausted these and myself, I am still walking in a boundless field of pure creative energy.

I walk back to the point of creation, where Consciousness first placed a seal upon Infinity to manifest Existence. I walk through this point back into What Is before Creation and experience impressions for which I have no words. At some point, I return again to the actor known as John, walking a beach, approaching a black car, and contemplating anew a distinctive-looking solicitor by the name of Merrill Lynne.

I know now that this enigmatic figure is also a projection of my soul’s potential. I walk directly to him and invite him to merge, consciously, with me. He agrees. We become one and the black car suddenly turns white with gold trimmings. I sit in and drive to a point where the priestesses who had gone home in pre-paid taxis are waiting, anxious now to rejoin the flow of spiritual life. I call them out, walk with them and integrate them slowly into my being.

My next dream came the following night:

 

I am in a big old building with many floors, connected by a mighty marble stairway. This house is huge and richly proportioned, almost palatial. The interior is handsome, tasteful and well-appointed, although it doesn’t seem lived-in. There is a party here tonight, however, with lots of people. I enter a ground floor room in the company of women. One, strikingly beautiful, smiles at me. We are very drawn to each other. Then there is word of some emergency. We rush to leave and assemble on the pavement outside. The entrance is the narrow hallway to 35 New Bride Street. There are shops on either side. Only McCann’s is open. The proprietor is cleaning outside. The area is otherwise deserted. It’s early morning and we have the look of people coming from a Ball. Someone says we need to set the house on fire and throws petrol into the hall. I say I’ve left things inside that I need to get. Others too. We race into the building and run upstairs. I find a young student sleeping and rouse him. Four young women are especially careful about rescuing things. Back outside, someone asks the shopkeeper if he’d mind looking after something small, and then big. He agrees reluctantly. He’ll put it over the mantelpiece.

 

My Father’s house has many mansions and I have found my way into this one, magnificent but very old. I experience it as a fore-runner of the magic hotel/house I was delivered into with C after our transformation in New Bride Street (where the women interrupt our efforts to make love). This present house turns out to be accessed via New Bride Street also, which evokes for me both the joy of sacred marriage and lingering ties of poverty consciousness. Tonight, initially, there is no such sense of deprivation.  There is a party going on and many parts of my soul, represented by ‘lots of people’, are coming into new levels of right relationship at it. I know I will make love with the beautiful woman who smiles at me – a new level of fe/male harmony is indicated and everything feels wonderful indeed.

Then word comes of an emergency, which means that further emergence is required. The lovely romantic haze I’ve been enjoying suddenly belongs to another time, now past. I/we must be prepared to move again. We leave our vast, imposing mansion and find ourselves huddled outside on the prosaic streets of my childhood, refugees from a Ball that never got fully into swing. It’s hard to credit that the hallway leading to my grandmother’s flat could be the portal to a house of such wonders but I know now that it is, and to many others. Merlin the Solicitor has taught me well: consciousness creates innumerable worlds out of its longing, purity and deformations.

I am back once more in old days, looking at shop-fronts I peered into many years ago. Buddha has cried ‘The house is burning’ and the inner revellers of my soul have been lured out to the cold, deserted streets of early morning. Enacting, I practice turning 35 New Bride Street, my fairy grandmother’s house, into the palace of my past and the ‘hotel’ of my possible future. What is there but creative intention to separate a doctor’s surgery from a magician’s cave?

One shop is open, although there is no reason for this. Its proprietor is outside, scrubbing vigorously, trying to make the best of his modest premises. My heart swells with love for my people of this lifetime. I am not alarmed when someone says the house needs to be burned. Perhaps I have again become the dupe of old attachments. That said, I remember there is something I must save, something that will surely serve in the life that is to come.

I rush back to the palace of my past, which I had forgotten how to occupy for so long. Others follow, including four young women, perhaps Merlin’s associates, minders from my feminine soul. I must remember to stay aligned correctly with them. I find one of my former students (from the university) asleep on an upper level. Daniel is his name and, like me at twenty-one, he is hooked on being intellectual. He is well-meaning, diligent, sincere and not very awake. This is why I find him as I do, in need of rescue.

I rouse him and we hurry downstairs. The women gather ‘jewels’ and follow after. I take Daniel out on the street and explain to him what’s going on. I also tell others, who know in any case. Our soul is being called to a major transformation. Only one young man seems concerned about hanging on to objects he has salvaged from the house – a small souvenir and a large old clock, which the shopkeeper reluctantly agrees to hold. This small part of me remains fixated on old time.

Of course I don’t ‘get’ this in the dream but now that I am practiced at enactments, I know straightaway what must be done. I reassure this clinging part of myself that all will be well and secure his agreement to merge with me. I merge with him, then Daniel. Others follow, re-entering my soul consciousness in new patterns of more mature and appropriate relationship. Soon I have reintegrated the whole cast of my soul.

I bid farewell once more to Merlin, a shopkeeper now and teaching still about the depth of love behind every illusion. I enter then into the hall of my Great (Grand) Mother, igniting a flaming pyre as I go, stepping into the Fire of Truth that was my Father’s House, willing with all my Heart that something beautiful might come of my next arising.

                                                          *

The moving display of the kahuna master in chapter 5 evoked most of the spiritual forms I’ve felt drawn to in this lifetime. One apparent omission was the art of magical transformation. Actually his shape-shifting routine evoked it but I lacked confidence to respond appropriately at the time. Now, following the return of Cassie and the onset of deep healing in my feminine soul, Merlin appears to re-ignite this potential.

His appearance links strongly with my image of Merlin as a male Earth wizard who works in service to the Goddess. Perhaps this, together with my readiness, is why he entered the frame at this point. His return is a cause for celebration and portends a new cycle in the process of my sacred marriage (the party at New Bride Street) but this plan is superseded by a call to more radical emergence.

Both dreams in this chapter involve lots of transformation: soul parts being stirred and entering new patterns of relationship as a result. The process ends with me stepping intentionally into a Fire of Truth so that aspects of my personality which no longer serve the attainment of my highest destiny can burn away. Thus I finally keep the appointment offered way back in chapter 1, at the workshop which was to change my life so radically.

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