I just love it when our Google alert delivers synchronicity alerts. That’s how I found Lauren’s blog.
Her terrific synchro about a butterfly started with a story about a black butterfly, so I used her photo. I’ve never seen a black butterfly, didn’t even know they existed until I read her story.
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Perhaps the most dramatic “butterfly experience” I had occurred 10 years ago. Since this experience had to do with both dream and synchronicity, I don’t know if I can tell it very cohesively, but I’ll try.
It began with a disturbing dream. I was on a ship, and on the deck many people sat in deck chairs, all of them playing with masks, taking them on and off. I seemed, in the dream, to be two people at once. I knew that there was, down in the lower decks of the boat, a demon. One of the women that I was was a kind of priestess or missionary – she was about to descend into the depths of the boat, where the demon below would torture and kill her. She thought that if she did so, offering herself as sacrificial victim, she could save the people above.
The other “me” was a cynical observer who thought she was a ridiculous martyr, and knew everyone, especially her, was doomed. I woke up as the “martyr self” began her descent.
Without going into the many circumstantial and psychological meanings of this important dream, I’ll skip ahead in real time. About 6 months after having this dream, I actually found myself, with a lot of actors, and a few masks, on an old decommissioned ocean liner (the “art ship”), which was anchored in the industrial harbor of Oakland. I was acting in a movie, and the writer and director of the film, Antero Alli, had decided to do his filming in the very bottom of this 5 level boat; the old, cold, dark, dank, cargo bay.
Descending into the bottom of the boat brought my dream back vividly, and every superstitious notion of prophetic dreams I ever had came right to the fore. I didn’t like it there! Between shoots, the cast hung out in what must have once been the crew’s cafeteria – located in a middle deck, it had round portholes, all of which were closed because it was a cold day in March. As we waited, the Director offered everyone a card from his own fascinating deck of oracular cards (with his artist wife, Sylvie Alli), and there was lively interest as each person contemplated his or her card.
I took a card from Antero with trepidation, and sure enough, damn if it wasn’t the “DEATH” card.
Not five minutes later, as I stood with the card of doom in hand, a small orange butterfly landed on my shoulder.
There was absolutely no explanation for how that butterfly could have gotten into that closed room. I had lots of witnesses – and after the miracle revealed itself, several of them helped to catch the butterfly and get it upstairs where it could be released.
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Pretty cool. In many esoteric traditions, butterflies represent transformation. I suspect, then, that this butterfly experience portended an important transformation in Lauren’s life.
















