Poppies, Reflections, Dreams, Lest we forget
Every so often I have some really intense, vivid dreams. They feel more like memories and have the potency of a hangover that last several days. I mull them over, obsess for a couple of days, digest the information in them and move on. Some of them are recurring over the years, come with historical context, soundtracks and superstitious pointers to the path my life should take. In the last three weeks I’ve had two dreams about poppies. So I looked up the dream meaning of ‘poppies’, for shits and giggles. The internet can be a source of hilarity so down the rabbit hole we go.
Poppies, Dream Interpretation
A field of poppies is a sign of adventures in love.
Temptation will come your way. Be on your guard and do not yield.
Traditionally known as the flower of seduction, it represents the dreamer’s wish to be free of responsibilities so that exotic excitement may be experienced.
Poppies seen in dreams, represents a season of seductive pleasures and flattering business, but they all occupy unstable foundations.
If you inhale the odor of one, you will be the victim of artful persuasions and flattery. (The mesmeric influence of the poppy inducts one into strange atmospheres, leaving materiality behind while the subjective self explores these realms as in natural sleep; yet these dreams do not bear truthful warnings to the material man. Being, in a manner, enforced.)
A dream of poppies foretells a scandalous experience with one of the opposite sex.- dreampedia.org
Hmm….I’m still crushing on my man pretty heavily going on twenty five years and the only plans I have for a scandalous experience are noshing on some edibles, giggling like a school girl watching ‘the Good Place’ or ‘Peaky Blinders’ and having some more intense dreams, preferably of the scandalous variety. Soccer Saturday has turned into stomach flu, soft blanket, Saturday. So, back to the poppies. I’m going to go with my own dream interpretation.
When I was a little girl, I remember a veteran of the second world war speaking to us at our elementary school. I must have been about nine at the time. Childhood memories are strange. You never know what will leave a lasting impact on you or your children. He did. It’s odd and strangely beautiful how this white man in his late fifties, early sixties could reach out to a little Indian girl learning to navigate her way in life.
Childhood history lessons and Remembrance day (Veteran’s day in the US) have impacted me in profound ways. Armistice was a fairly somber and significant day where I grew up in Vancouver. The imparting life lesson was consistent and universal. Those that do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat the same mistakes. My parents, particularly my mother, drilled this same point home.
Elementary school students had to memorize “In Flanders Fields”, by John McCrae. It was recited by one of the students for school assemblies, lest we forget the sacrifices of all those that came before us, lest we forget our history.
A little background history for the curious. John McCrae was a Canadian surgeon in the first world war and a ‘trench’ poet. He wrote the poem after presiding over the funeral of a friend who died in the second battle of Ypres. Eerily enough I had the opportunity to be in Ypres, Belgium while pregnant with my first child to hear the “Last Post” at Menin gate. Symbolic traditions like this over a century later remind us all of where humanity has been and where we can easily be led again. I remember weeping openly as did many others in observance. Hearing it again, immediately transports me back to that night and reminds me of all most heartfelt wishes I had/have for my children.
Human loss and sacrifice can bridge any cultural divide that separates people. “Thank you for you service” sounds as cliche as “I love you”, “I’m sorry” and “Thoughts and prayers”, if not offered with the sincerity the words deserve. Lip service is very dangerous. Actions and the mere act of showing up can be so much more powerful. The beauty of genuine intentions make the weakest of us brave. The recognition of that kind of courage, particularly in the service of a greater good is important to acknowledge. I’ve never been one to fetishize or glorify self sacrifice, but there is a lot to be said for human beings willing to take a stand for their beliefs. Those moments define us. Service comes in many forms; protection, protest, daily perseverance, the pursuit of truth and justice, all qualify.
I’m thinking my dream is more about the mistakes the world is continuing to make and a path that is bordering on self destructive. This road leads to a dead end where black and white becomes grey. The lines have become so blurred between right and wrong. Under the thin veneer of civilization we are all survivalists. I can extend love and loyalty to my family/friends first, then my tribe/community, my country, and finally the world in so far as I have the energy and my lifestyle allows me to do so. Allegiance and commitment to duty are one thing. Most of us can perform when required out of obligation but loyalty of the heart is completely another. What happens when life becomes really hard. Who do we become then?
I”m hoping that my dream is a reminder to forge a different path. One that perhaps we don’t really have guidance in. A path that hasn’t been written about in history because this moment is unlike any other humanity has encountered. We can use our knowledge of the past to navigate the future but the choices we will face will likely require a mental agility and resolve unlike we’ve seen.
That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe.-John Berger
My most heartfelt gratitude to anyone who serves their community in any facet: teachers, doctors, first responders, PTO moms, military personnel... My poppy perfect, forlorn, melancholic dream Soundtrack added two tracks to it’s library:
This was a totally surprise - not my usual fare so it really sticks in my head: Lewis Calapdi “Someone you loved” and U2’s “Love is blindness”:
“Love is clockworks
And cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
Squeeze the handle
Blow out the candle
Love is blindness”
Go forth, break bread: https://www.delscookingtwist.com/beetroot-blue-cheese-walnut-tart/
If you don’t like blue cheese use goat cheese but make sure to crumble it well. This is a perfect fall tart.
