So that explains what I remember as a waking working dream. I think of myself as sensitive to things like this – I feel ultra-low frequencies in my ears as ringing or a change in pressure if an earthquake is within 70 miles.
Since I live in an earthquake zone easily described as the clitoris of the Earth it is important to distinguish that I don’t sense all the earthquakes around here – you wouldn’t believe me.
I do have a tendency to awaken during celestial events – last night was no exception unless it was just the kitten trying to play. I saw the Aurora Borealis because we were lucky to have no cloud cover; in my town we generally only get one color: neon green.
Viewers in the Interior of Alaska and Canada can expect the Northern Lights to have blues, reds, whites, yellows; a stunning parade of color and play. In the Yukon Territories one June we saw curtains drop, it seemed, within feet of our heads, in shapes like roses and sprays of reds and whites, dazzling with movement and form. It had started out so pitch dark we thought it was a rainstorm moving in on us and had stopped the car. Mesmerized – we watched for over an hour. Another time it seemed the Aurora was so bright and clear down to earth, I felt I was riding it home on a drive back from Fairbanks. One frozen night here the sky was so lit up I had to stand outside then watched, as rare colors of red and white formed a Thunderbird above my head.
Last night, though, was as if I was sitting on the beach after sunset, watching long waves lap the shore, long green waves of low energy; the neon green band didn’t fold or curtain or lengthen or whip or expand and disappear or break and join or do much of anything but pretend to be a quiet luminescent shoreline at the beach.