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Page 3.
Chapter 2. Into The Dream World
 As Fanna spoke, the portal ahead of me (Dreams) swung wide open. I stepped out of the transition portal between waking and sleep, and stood in my own healing garden of dreams.
I felt like a girl, clapping my hands over my mouth and making wide, amazed eyes. They no longer burned. A couple of small birds like finches swooped down with fluttering, feathery wings, and sprayed something—eye drops, maybe?—into my eye sockets. For a few seconds, their little beaks looked like the muzzles of tiny water pistols in the toy store. I cried out with shock, then relief, and rubbed my eyes with my finger tips. The finches fluttered away into the blue sky, leaving a few fluttering downy feathers to prove they'd been there. My eyes felt wonderful now. I blinked, and looked out over green hills and valleys. I saw red clay-tiled roof tops on white houses in the distance, and a space that looked like a golf course sprawling in a flat land below me. A ribbony river glowed in distant sunlight.
"Is this for real?" I asked.
"Everything is for real," she said. "This is your dream, Rosemary."
"Is it safe to be here?" I felt disoriented and a little scared.
"The worst thing that can happen is you wake up."
"And the best thing?"
She nudged me with a girl-to-girl elbow and a wink, nodding her head a the golf course below, or football field, or whatever it was. A whole squad of the most gorgeous men in this dream or any other were running together around a jogging track. They wore only skimpy shirts and silky running shorts that showed off their glistening, sweaty muscles. A few had slight afternoon beard shadow. All were intent on their running, and did not notice me—yet. They were very handsome. Feeling a rush of desire, I felt embarrassed and covered my face with my hands. But I peeked through my fingers.
"All of this is yours," Fanna said. "This is all in your dream."
I was still looking between my fingers at the leg muscles on those guys. Their shorts looked bulgy in front. Their arms were wiry as cables, sunburned, and slick with sweat in the mild sunshine.
For a crazy second, I wondered if I could turn up the heat. Like, make the sun warmer. Would their arms become even more slick? What else could I do here to make the time go by?
Fanna must have read my mind. "You're getting the right idea, Rosemary. Now comes the hard part. No pun intended. You have to learn to be gentle. These are real people, visiting you in their dreams. You have to be nice to them, as you would be in the waking world. Here, the difference is that everyone is in some stage of healing and discovery."
"What stage are you?" I asked.
"I'm healed," Fanna said. "I am a Guide, a Helper. I would hope that, when you are well again, you will come back to your dream world often and help the new ones who are still suffering from whatever bad things they went through in their waking life. We can't change our waking life while we sleep. But we can learn to master our minds and our emotions, and simply blow off bad people who are tormenting us in our waking state. That especially goes for all those useless memories of terrible men and terrible women who have hurt us in the past. You'll see how easy it is, once you get the hang of it. That's why we are all here together."
"It is making more sense," I said now. "I guess I had reached a point of no return."
"Your instinct is right. But we won't even go back there to find out. It doesn't matter if you were married to a man who was mean to you, or if we grabbed you off a tall bridge before you could jump, or if you were abused…Let's not even think about it."
"I don't want to," I said brightly, a grown woman, feeling about six years old at the moment. I felt the innocence of a child, and all that limitless potential ahead of me, before mean people and awful events could ruin everything.
"You will have many adventures here," Fanna said. "I know, because I am still having them, and I've been here longer than I can remember. When we wake, we remember who we are, and what our life is, but the pain grows ever more remote and dull, until we start forgetting it. We are reborn with these sensual and sexual dreams in the healing garden."
"Does everyone have the same dreams?" I asked.
As we spoke, the portal shimmered and evaporated behind us, revealing more of this dream world. Behind us sprawled a lovely, mysterious city with tall buildings, green parks, and drifting airplanes in a blue sky. To one side shimmered the rolling waves of a greenish-white bay fronting on the city's harbor.
"Everything is here," Fanna told me. "I will be your helping angel when you need me. You will dine with handsome men, dance the night away, and make love under the starlight."
"Oh.my.gawd."
"Yes. But you must never be embarrassed. You know how that airlock is tight as might. The one we just came through. Nothing penetrates in either direction. Your dream life is one hundred percent separate from your waking life. You remember nothing about this while you are awake, except a vague, warm new feeling of goodness that you have long not been used to. You will never feel bad about yourself again, Rosemary, and you never needed to."
I felt like starting to cry again, but nothing came out. My eyes were dry and bright. My body felt strong and firm, and I could not have trembled or shivered if I had tried to.
"Remember this," Fanna said. "This is the most important thing you must know."
"Yes?"
"What happens in your dreams, stays in your dreams."
"That.is.awesome." I could hardly speak.
Fanna nodded with wisdom and certainty. Suddenly I realized how full of her own secrets she was. She said to me: "Rosemary. You know that old saying about Las Vegas? Same thing applies here. What happens in your dreams, stays in your dreams."
With that, she took my hand, and guided me as we walked down a long, gently sloping grassy hill to the golf course or track meet and whatever else it was below. I heard a brass band somewhere, faintly, its pulsing music lilting on the wind whenever the breeze turned this way. I thought I smelled fresh beer and bratwurst, not to mention sharp mustard and maybe a fork full of sauerkraut over a sizzling barbecue grill. Or was that shrimp on the barbie? Or basted ribs? No matter. I had all the time in the world to explore this world and its many secrets—my dream world, my sexual garden, my sensual healing. This was a place where I could let it all hang out, never feel guilty, enjoy every pleasure as long as nobody hurt anybody. I almost felt a little frustrated. Why had nobody shown me this before? Why do we all live in so much guilt and fear and self-doubt? In the clarity of my healing dreams, it all seemed so obvious. How pointless spiritual pain is. How cruel is pointless guilt. I let out a wild laugh, made sail plane wings of my arms, and ran down the hill ahead of Fanna. I heard her laugh behind me—a languid, relaxed, been-there-done-that kind of happy exclamation. My new friend. But what about those guys at the track? Ah, they were all grilling now. I think one or two saw us coming, and nodded, with big manly innocent grinning mouths full of shiny teeth. Already, I was beginning to desire something more than a few hot shrimps; on my barbie, no less. Or in my barbie, not on it. Oh naughty me. I could feel so raunchy all of a sudden, so damp of thighs and sighs, and not have a shred of guilt.
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