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Climbing in the Rafters...

There are times when my dreams feel so real when I'm in them, that to wake up leaves me feeling empty or depressed. Sometimes the places where my dreams take me are so fabulous and full of intrigue, it really pains me to have to leave.
Such a dream occurred many years ago for me, and the imagery/feeling of it has been so strong, I remember it to this day. Oddly enough, just a week ago I was attending a performance in a sacred chapel space, and looking up into the arches and buttresses of the chapel ceiling, I was instantly brought back to this dream that I hadn't thought about in so many years.
I had never been in this chapel space, although I spent a number of years attending ballet and also art school in the ground floor of the massive building that houses the chapel - The Good Shepard Center, in Wallingford.

In the dream, I'm in an immeasurably expansive chapel space. I've come through a door that is no longer used, into a space long forgotten (despite it's immensity). There are a few tall rows of west-facing windows. Amber light filters through the dusty haze. This place is sacred and I'm not sure I'm supposed to be up here, but I'm drawn to explore.
I'm walking along rickety and precarious catwalks, high on the walls. I don't see the ground, and I get the sense there may be no bottom to this seemingly infinite interior space. But there are doors in many of the walls, leading to friendlier, more familiar areas of my imagination.
I go in and out of the doors, always managing to come back to this space. Each time I enter, I get a familiar feeling, like this is an immense sacred space that is my very own. I feel as if I'm home in a safe (but no less creepy and dark) space. It's always been here, I just lost touch with it. Now I have returned and I don't want to leave.
Exiting the dream leaves me feeling sad and empty. I felt as if I'd discovered buried treasure and now it's lost forever. The memory lingers, but so does the feeling of loss.

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