“I remembered two dreams from the previous night. One seemed powerful to me, while I disregarded the other as utter nonsense.”
—Julia, today’s featured dream poet

Hello, Dear Reader.

In a recent dream, I collided with a cow in a nighttime pasture. What could that possibly mean? (Even as I write this, I know that some of you will have brilliant replies to …

Read more

What if your dreams aren’t trying to confuse you—but trying to help you? What if, instead of turning away from them, you befriended them?

I’m Tzivia Gover, an author and certified dreamwork professional, and I’m excited to be returning to the Sivanda Ashram and Yoga Center to offer evening talks and daytime workshops on Night Yoga in June. Together we’ll explore sleep and dreams through mindfulness, yoga philosophy, Tibetan Dream Yoga, Jungian psychology, and the neuroscience of sleep.

We’ll engage creatively with their imagery and stories, and discover what they might be revealing to us.

You’ll learn simple practices for remembering your dreams, working with them, becoming more lucid in dreams and waking. And then we’ll discover how to bring insights from our midnight mind into our waking lives.

I hope you’ll join me for this transformational journey, as together we wake up to new possibilities for healing, insight, creativity, and renewal.

Night Yoga:
Dream Yourself Awake with a Mindful Dreamwork Practice

June 15 — 18, 2027

Sivananda Yoga Retreat and Ashram, Paradise Island, The Bahamas

Night Yoga in the Bahamas

If you’ve wanted to keep a journal but hesitated because you lack time or feel some resistance, we’ve got you covered.

Our guided journals provide welcoming prompts that take less than 5 minutes to complete. Or, you can expand your journal time with quick sketches or colorful collages—it’s up to you.

Watch the entire video for all of that, plus two prompts to inspire you!

Buy 'The Little Dream Journal'

Buy 'Writing with the Seasons'

We’re celebrating two beautiful guided journals for daytime reflections and nighttime dreams!

Get more from Tzivia Gover in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

Books by Tzivia

Working with my dreams has reliably helped me with everything from predicting my daughter’s birth (under highly unusual circumstances) to navigating health issues, especially by offering nutritional advice. My dreams have helped me know when to move on and when to stay, whether in relationships, moving from one address to another, or keeping—or quitting—a job.

Dreams guide me step by step. Sometimes they offer clear signs, like the dream when I was at an airport and saw a placard that read, “Your Flight is Grounded.” I knew then to sit and wait for my life to settle down before taking my next big step.

Another dream sign, again in an airport, read, The weather is clear; your flight is ready for takeoff.

And so I knew the time was right to launch into a new direction.

Dream by dream, I have been led on my way, with guidance on when to change course, when to stay, and when to step forward and go big.

I’m so grateful that I’ve learned what it means to follow one’s dreams—and that I have the privilege of sharing that process with you, too.

Keep reading for:

• Tips for taking your dreams off the pillow and into your day.

• A bonus freebie: A dream journal template to spark insights and aha’s (for paid subscribers).

But first, I want to invite you to a free Zoom gathering:

RSVP for Creative Conversations

Sunday, November 8, 1 p.m. US Eastern Time; Free on Zoom. RSVP to attend live or get the replay.

Join the faculty of Dream Journey Into the Soul for an intimate hour of readings, inspiration, and conversation about the power of dreams and creativity.

Marta Aarli, Victoria Rabinowe, and Tzivia Gover will each read from their newest books and discuss the creative powers of the subconscious mind we tap into when we sleep and dream —and when we show up at the page.

All who RSVP will have access to the interactive event in real time and will receive the replay.

Despite the stereotype of dreamers as idealists who lack practical skills and training, there are effective and down-to-earth ways to bring the benefits of dreams and dreamwork into all aspects of our lives.

Dreams come true when we take them off the pillow and act on the messages they bring us.

You don’t have to know what your dream means to activate its power. Honoring your dream in a tangible way, even just writing it down, helps complete the circuit of your nighttime and daytime consciousness to empower your intuition and inner wisdom.

Simple actions that spark more peace, creativity, joy, and love in your life are ideal. Start small. Then observe whether new dreams or events confirm—or offer a course correction to—the direction you are moving in.

Here are 3 of my favorite tips for taking your dreams into your day. Try them out, and add your own:

• Create a mini ritual like lighting a candle, sitting quietly, and contemplating a dream theme, image, or an affirmation or motto inspired by your dream.

• Connect with someone who showed up in your dream. If appropriate, phone or message them to check in and say hello. (It’s optional to mention that you saw them in your dream.)

• Create a poem, story, or any other form of artistic expression from your dream to honor or celebrate it. (Remember, as a free or paid subscriber, you are invited to submit anything you write in response to prompts like this one for publication in the online Dream Circle Anthology, which is part of this publication.)

Leave a comment

Today’s tips were excerpted from The Little Dream Journal, by Tzivia Gover.

Get The Little Dream Journal

Paid subscribers can claim a free dream journal template:

I don’t know exactly how it happened, but while I was preparing to write a post for my other online publication, I stumbled upon a poem I’d written way back in 2013.

The notation beneath the poem, which was inspired by a dream, reminded me that I’d written it on an autumn morning nearly thirteen years ago to the day, as part of an annual 30 Poems in November Fundraiser. That community-wide event raises money for free English classes and services for new immigrants in western Massachusetts, where I live.

Today, thirteen years later, I am preparing to participate in the 30 Poems in November fundraiser yet again!

Honestly, it feels a little bit like I’m living a recurring dream.

Recurring dreams—dreams that repeat again and again over the course of days, weeks, or even years—may be alerting us to patterns we haven’t broken free of. Or they may be reminding us of unfinished business.

If I were to apply dream-wisdom to this waking dream of writing poems November after November to raise awareness and money to help immigrants in our communities, I’d say this activity on repeat is:

+ A reaffirmation of my beliefs about standing with those who need support,

+ A warning against complacency, and thereby

+ A clarion call to action.

I would never have dreamed, back in 2013, that our friends and neighbors who fled to this country to escape violence, oppression, and many forms of repression would be subjected to the nightmarish cruelty and lawlessness in the United States of America that we are witnessing today.

But I do know that poetry and dreamwork are creative paths that honor the wisdom of our hearts, build our muscles for empathy, and prepare us to imagine—and enact—better futures for ourselves and others.

Keep reading to find the poem that inspired today’s missive, plus more dream wisdom and a prompt to spark your creativity.

Painting a portrait with dreams and words

Common dream wisdom has it that every part of a dream represents a part of the dreamer:

every villain, lover, fool, and queen,

every animal, stick of furniture, and weather event,

even the walls and the sky. Each color and image,

each one represents some part of you, the dreamer.

In this regard, every dream is a self-portrait.

Because every dream is also a poem that is waiting to be written, back in 2013, I ‘painted’ a self-portrait based on this dream:

I am walking with my daughter through a field. A mule is bucking furiously, and I tell my daughter to run downhill to the shelter by the sea and wait for me there. (Dream Report, 10/23/13)

Self Portrait in Dreams

I am the mother. I’ve been doing my job for so long,
I could do it in my sleep: I protect, I correct, I implore.
Run! Run! I say. Downhill to the shelter, you’ll be safe by the sea.

I am the girl. Curious, unafraid. It’s my way
to explore. Dumb mule can’t hurt me. Nothing can.
Nothing can. I whistle my tune through the dark. Then I run.

I am the field, straw-colored and stark. I stretch
and I grow, sigh out stalks of long grass.
What goes on above me, I let it pass.

I am the mule, and I’m bucking mad,
bucking angry, bucking all that is wrong. Buck you
and buck you and buck everything, too.

I am the hill. I bow to the sea. I incline gently
to give speedy ease to her feet. Her feet flying
faster and faster. On my slope, she’ll know free.

I am the shelter. Simplicity and structure. I am wood.
I hold firm against wind and rain. And if you would
come inside, I’d hold onto you, too.

I am the sea. Run downhill till your toes
meet my tickling fingers. I’ll startle your ankles,
and jangle your heart. Dive in. And let the girl swim.

—Tzivia, 2013

This poem was published on my blog, All the S’nooze That’s Fit to Print, on Nov. 13, 2013

Your turn
Write a Dream Self Portrait:

1. Write down a dream you remember. It could be a dream you had recently or long ago.

2. Highlight all of the images in the dream (people, creatures, elements of nature, and things).

3. Choose 3-5 of the images, and use each one to launch a line (or 2 or 3) in which that element speaks for itsef. “I am a … “

4. Be curious, not critical: Let your thoughts flow without judgment or self-criticism. Enjoy the process, and appreciate the surprising output of your dreamy imagination.

5. Share what you’ve written! We’d love to read and celebrate your words.

   Leave a comment

   Remember, as a free or paid subscriber, you are invited to submit anything you write in response to prompts like this one for publication in the online Dream Circle Anthology, which is part of this online publication.

   ---

That’s all for this time. Thank you for dreaming with me,

Coming soon

Sunday, November 8, 1 p.m. US Eastern Time; Free on Zoom. RSVP to attend in real time or get the replay.

Join the faculty of Dream Journey Into the Soul’s annual retreat for an intimate hour of readings, inspiration, and conversation about the power of dreams and creativity.

Marta Aarli, Victoria Rabinowe, and Tzivia Gover will each read from their newest books—and discuss the creative powers of the subconscious mind that we tap into when we sleep and dream, and when we show up at the page.

Your questions and responses will add to our dynamic conversation and inspire your big dreams and creative aspirations!

+ 3 short readings from our latest books

+ Observations and ‘Aha’s’ about how dreams guide our creative processes

+ Q&A

+ You’ll be offered information & special discounts for two upcoming programs on dreams and creativity!

All who RSVP will have access to the interactive event in real time and receive the replay, which will be sent to all who register.

Register for free

Yes, that means you! We are all dreamers, after all. We all have this natural, innate wellspring of story and imagery and dream energy inside of us. And we can direct this just as we direct prayers and just as we direct thoughts

Today I’m talking about how we can channel that energy toward helping to heal ourselves and our planet. Those two things are inextricably linked. In so many ways, our physical health and our emotional health depend on the health of our Mother Earth, our planet.

On Friday, Oct. 16, I’ll be offering a workshop online, in which we’ll go deeper into this idea that dreams are for our personal health and healing, as well as that of our families, communities, and our planet. I’ll share bedtime practices so you can connect more consciously to your powerful and healing midnight mind.

Coming soon:

If It Were Our Dream

Friday, October 16 @ 1:00 pm - 3:30 pm Eastern Time, $55

A Dream Workshop
with the Institute for Dream Studies and Third House Moon

REGISTER FOR IF IT WERE OUR DREAM

In group dreamwork, we typically offer guidance to the dreamer using the phrase, “If it were my dream.” But what if dreams belonged both to the one who dreamed them and also spoke to issues that affect the wider community?

While Western psychological approaches to dreamwork tend to approach dreamwork as a way to resolve individual complexes and heal personal wounds, traditional dream practices across cultures often embrace the collective nature of dreams to connect us with ancestors and offer information and warnings to help communities survive and thrive.

In this welcoming, interactive workshop, you will:

• Use dreams as a resource for coping with grief and anxiety related to climate change and other global concerns.

• Examine how dream content can support healing and evolution, including growth within individuals, relationships, and broader community contexts.

• Explore cross-cultural approaches to dreamwork, including how different cultures use dreams to support communities.

• and more!

Appropriate for people with a casual interest in dreams, as well as for therapists, counselors, spiritual leaders, and more. 2.5 CE Credits are available.

About Tzivia

Tzivia Gover, MFA, certified dreamwork professional, is the award-winning author of Dreaming on the Page: Tap into Your Midnight Mind to Supercharge Your Writing and other books on sleep, dreams, and writing for adults and children. She is a graduate of the Institute for Dream Studies (IDS) and former education director. Tzivia founded 350 Dreamers, an international network of people dreaming together for global healing, and serves on the executive committee of the International Association for the Study of Dreams.

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

Dream and Write Together

“To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings.”
—Wendell Berry

Hello, Dear Reader,

The autumn equinox is still a few days away, and already it’s happening: supper is barely over, and already the windows are filling with darkness. When did that happen? Where did our long, light-filled summer days go?

We can’t fight the turning of time, so let’s dance with it instead!

I’ve launched my journey into the waxing darkness like any good bookworm, with literary inspiration:

📖 I’ve begun reading How to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor, which is basically a book-length invitation to step into the darkness with curiosity and courage. Taylor writes:

What stories do you tell yourself to keep your fear in place? What helps you stay conscious even when you are afraid? What have you learned in the dark that you could never have learned in the light?
― Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark: A Study of Spiritual Growth Through Darkness

🌙

📖 My new favorite poem is “The Bats” by Mark Wunderlich, which you can read for yourself here. Wunderlich describes the bats that nest in the eaves of his house as being:

pinned to the roof beams,
stitched up in their ammonia reek
and private dreams.

🦇

I highly recommend both of these authors, who have done much to ease me through the mild dread that creeps up on me as the days contract and the night spreads itself out as lavishly as an overfed cat.

But I admit, it’ll take a lot more than a good poem to make me feel cozy knowing that bats are waking up above me in the attic rafters.

That’s why I’m inviting you to be my companions as we embark on this seasonal journey together. I have some wonderful opportunities for us to gather and peer through the darkness and toward our dreams for inspiration, guidance, and healing in the coming weeks and months.

I hope you’ll join me for both of these dreamy gatherings:

This Saturday:

When Dreams Change Everything

Free on Zoom, Saturday, September 19

Join the faculty of Dream Journey into the Soul’s annual retreat for a cozy hour of storytelling and dream exploration.

Marta Aarli, Victoria Rabinowe, and Tzivia Gover will each share one pivotal dream that became a turning point in her life—and reveal what happened when she listened, responded, and allowed the dream to lead.

Together, we’ll explore how dreams can become creative companions – opening doors to new work, awakening an authentic voice, illuminating what has been hidden, and leading us beyond what the conscious mind could have imagined.

When you RSVP, you’ll have access to the interactive event in real time and receive the replay, which will be sent to all who register.

RSVP FOR LINK AND REPLAY

Coming soon:

If It Were Our Dream

Friday, October 16 @ 1:00 pm - 3:30 pm EDT, $55

A Dream Workshop
with the Institute for Dream Studies and Third House Moon

REGISTER FOR IF IT WERE OUR DREAM

It is common in group dreamwork to offer guidance to the dreamer using the phrase, “If it were my dream.” But what if dreams belonged both to the one who dreamed them and also spoke to issues that affect the wider community?

While Western psychological approaches to dreamwork tend to approach dreamwork as a way to resolve individual complexes and heal personal wounds, traditional dream practices across cultures often embrace the collective nature of dreams to connect us with ancestors and offer information and warnings to help communities survive and thrive.

In this welcoming, interactive workshop, you will:

• Use dreams as a resource for coping with grief and anxiety related to climate change and other global concerns.

• Examine how dream content can support healing and evolution, including growth within individuals, relationships, and broader community contexts.

• Explore cross-cultural approaches to dreamwork, including how different cultures use dreams to support communities.

• and more!

Appropriate for people with a casual interest in dreams, as well as for therapists, counselors, spiritual leaders, and more. 2.5 CE Credits are available.

About Tzivia

Tzivia Gover, MFA, certified dreamwork professional, is the award-winning author of Dreaming on the Page: Tap into Your Midnight Mind to Supercharge Your Writing and other books on sleep, dreams, and writing for adults and children. She is a graduate of the Institute for Dream Studies (IDS) and former education director. Tzivia founded 350 Dreamers, an international network of people dreaming together for global healing, and serves on the executive committee of the International Association for the Study of Dreams.

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

Dream and Write Together

In this dream, none of it is mine.
In this dream, stillness for me, motion for the world.
— From “In This Dream,” a poem by The Care Center poets

About today’s poem

I recently returned to The Care Center, in Holyoke, Mass., an inspiring school for teen mothers studying for their high school equivalency diplomas, to offer a dream-writing workshop. I taught at The Care Center for more than 16 years, and started a poetry program and literary journal during that time.

So, it was a special treat to be back in the classroom with the students and staff who participated in the workshop. We wrote individual poems inspired by dreams, and then shared lines from our writing, which became the collective poem that I am delighted to publish here today!

In this Dream

a group poem by the Care Center Poets*

In this dream I crawl into my bedroom ceiling feeling new, happy, childlike.
In this dream, his argument is slippery, and I don’t know which end might have fangs.
I wonder where my family is and if they have left me alone with this vampire.

In this dream, my feet move in unison in opposite directions,
I know that I have learned the secret. That is how I learned to drive stick shift
in my dream.

In this dream, from afar: A bloody red door; the red paint
is peeling off; it looks eerie and out of place.
In this dream, I wonder why he visits me.

In this dream, I wonder
is it true, or is it a test?
Or maybe an eye-opener?

In this dream, I wonder
should I protect my guilty, murdering friend and face jail?
What would happen if I just allow myself to be me?

I believe this dream means it’s time for me to take a new path and start fresh.
And maybe my new path is just for me
and not for me to take anyone with me. Just maybe.

In this dream, I look up at the second-floor window and see my father waving at me,
sending a thrill of joy and recognition through me.
This dream feels too real. I want to sit with this a while

In this dream he wears his signature white graphic tee and cargo shorts,
and his signature scent of Cool Water and Drakkar Noir cologne.
He, in this moment, feels bigger than life.

In this dream, I am unsure if the game is over.
In this dream, none of it is mine.
In this dream, stillness for me, motion for the world.

In this dream, I was startled to hear a quiet puff of something hit my kitchen window.
It caught my attention. I thought that it was so pretty!
White, flying everywhere, on the window.

In this dream, my child can breathe easy

*This is a group poem, with lines contributed by the community of Care Center Holyoke Poets, including: Aniza, Corrie, Dan, Danielle, Dianessa, Ellie, Halley, Jane, Jenna, Karen, Katelynn, Madison, Maria, Marjory, Milagros, Oona, Sara, and Yve, with support from Tzivia, the Dream-Poetry Teacher.

About the poets

The Care Center1 poets are primarily young mothers facing systemic barriers for whom traditional high school did not work out. At the Care Center, they participate in academics, athletics, and the arts. Students also receive daycare, counseling, meals, and on-site access to a nurse practitioner so they can concentrate on their studies. The Care Center also provides bridge-to-college programs including The Clemente Course in the Humanities and Bard Micro-College. As a result, as many as 75 % of Care Center graduates go on to college.

Learning in Mrs. Towne’s House documents my first years teaching poetry at The Care Center, the genesis of the poetry program for teen mothers, and my discovery of the intriguing story of Mrs. Elizabeth Towne, the suffragist, publisher, politician, and champion of young women who first lived in the 19th-century brick building that now houses the school.

Read how a poem changed my life by catapulting me into a nearly 20-year career teaching poetry to teen moms.

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

Dream and Write Together

Here’s how to have your writing featured:

💌 All subscribers to This Dream is a Poem are eligible to submit their dream poetry for publication.

🔖 We publish poetic responses that subscribers share in the comments section of our posts, as well as work generated in our classes and workshops.

✒️ To have your work featured, the first step is to write with us! You can find prompts in various posts and in the chat:

Join Tzivia Gover’s subscriber chat

👓 Read. Comment. Enjoy!

Ready to Write?
Join the Weekend Stay at Home & Write Virtual Retreat
Fri. Aug. 21-23
Last chance to register:

At Home Writing Retreat

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver, “The Summer Day

Hello, Dear Readers,

The recent release of the documentary film Mary Oliver: Saved by the Beauty of the World prompted today’s post, which was originally published on my blog, All the Snooze That’s Fit To Print. This mini-essay is also adapted from my book, Learning in Mrs. Towne’s House, which I’ll tell you more about before signing off.

“The Summer Day,” Oliver’s poem that frames the new movie, is perhaps her most famous. But in one way or another, Oliver’s life story, as well as her life’s work, points to the same stark fact:

Your very existence is a miracle. The existence of this life-sustaining planet with its abundance of complex and mysterious life forms is a miracle. You are here! Stop. Look. Pay attention. Fall to your knees. Be filled with wonder!

Read on. And when you’re done, tell me, is there a poem that changed your life? And if not, pick up one of Oliver’s books. I feel sure you’ll find a poem that will do just that.

Can a poem change your life? In a word: Yes.

I’d been working as a reporter at a small-town newspaper when I heard Mary Oliver read her poetry at Smith College. At the time, I’d just gotten a new supervisor who was a stickler for rules. We ended up getting into a power struggle over my time card, which became symbolic to me of everything that was wrong with my job.

So when Mary Oliver recited those famous last lines from her poem “The Summer Day,” in which she asks:

“Tell me, what will you do with your one wild and precious life?”

I knew that haggling over how I’d filled out my time card wasn’t part of the picture I had for myself. So I quit.

It wasn’t as though I was totally without work, though. I had a volunteer job. Sure, it didn’t pay—but at least no one was asking me to fill out a time card.

I was teaching poetry at The Care Center, a school for teen moms who’d dropped (or opted) out of high school. By the time I’d turned in my reporter’s notebook, I’d taught three or four classes as a volunteer. At that point, I couldn’t even get the students to answer my questions, let alone write a poem.

During one of those first classes, a student named Yari raised her hand. Oh happy day, I thought! A student is engaged; she’s going to ask a question.

“Teacher,” she began when I called on her. “Why do your hands shake?”

I looked down at my hands, which were at that moment holding a page containing a poem by Emily Dickinson. The paper, sure enough, was fluttering at the edges.

Okay, I was shaking. Why shouldn’t I be? I was scared to death standing up there in front of a group of girls who looked like they’d like to kick me to the curb. Oh, and did I mention the part about having had next to no training as a teacher?

This volunteer gig was something I’d dreamed up and jumped into on a liberal-white-girl impulse to do good in the world and help those “less fortunate,” without much thought about what any of that really entailed…or even meant. To make matters worse, I was now unemployed. In short, those young women and their reticent silence were all I had just then.

But Yari was waiting for an answer. So, I did the only thing I could given the situation: I fibbed.

“I’m hypoglycemic,” I told her. I babbled on about how poetry class took place just before lunch, and my blood sugar was low, and I’d be fine as soon as I had a little protein in my system.

“That’s good,” Yari said. “I thought it was because maybe we make you nervous.”

The following week Yari raised her hand in class once again. This time she wanted to read a poem she’d written.

It was a poem about how she’d gotten pregnant and then was thrown out of her house by her parents, who were abusing drugs. She moved in with her boyfriend until his parents threw her out, too. She wrote of living on the streets, her parents taking her in again, and then her decision to forgive them.

When she finished reading, she was in tears. I pulled a packet of tissues from my pocket and passed them across the room to her. As the packet traveled, each student took one to wipe her own tears before the Kleenex finally reached Yari.

That day a spark was lit. For nearly two decades, I worked at The Care Center, teaching poetry to teen moms. I may or may not have changed any of my students’ lives, but they changed mine. By sharing their hearts on the page with me, by challenging me, and by letting me into their lives, they helped me become a better poet, a better teacher, and a more compassionate, humble, and empathetic human.

Together we read, wrote, and shared countless poems. And together we created the Nautilus II Poetry journal, which was recognized by the Obama White House and contributed to The Care Center winning a 2011 President’s Committee on the Arts and Humanities Award.

Can a poem change your life? For me, the answer was a resounding yes.

Thank you, Mary Oliver. Because of your poem, I found a way not only to live my one wild and precious life, but to nurture my students’ precious creative lives as well.

I recently returned to The Care Center to teach a class on dream-poetry. Read the students’ group poem here:

Learning in Mrs. Towne’s House documents my first years teaching poetry at The Care Center, the genesis of the poetry program for teen mothers, and my discovery of the intriguing story of Mrs. Elizabeth Towne, the suffragist, publisher, politician, and champion of young women who first lived in the 19th-century brick building that now houses the school.

Praise for Learning in Mrs. Towne’s House: A Teacher, Her Students and the Woman Who Inspired Them by Tzivia Gover (Leveller’s Press)

“Tzivia Gover tells us that according to the educator, Paulo Freire, ‘It is impossible to teach without the courage to love.’ In this beautifully written memoir, Gover musters up the courage to love her students despite the often difficult differences between them. By having the pregnant and parenting teens in her classroom learn to read, write, and recite poetry, Gover exposes her students to a whole new world. Upon reading their poetry, Gover is exposed to a whole new world as well.
Learning in Mrs. Towne’s House is a testimony to the power of poetry. Reading it will enrich your life.”
— Lesléa Newman, Poet and Author

Dreams of the night carry messages of guidance, warnings, and insights. They tell us when to pause, when to leap, where to turn, and what to leave behind.

—Victoria Rabinowe

Hello Dear Readers,

Remember those billiard-ball-shaped toys that you’d turn over in your hands to find the answers to your heart’s deepest questions (or your silliest ones). A floating plastic pyramid inside would bob to the surface with replies like “Don’t Count on It” or “It Is Certain.”

My 12-year-old girlfriends and I would pass the ball around and ask it to tell us whether a particular boy liked us or if we’d grow up to be happy.

I got to thinking about my early encounters with these kitschy oracles after many of you contacted me in response to a recent missive about dreams, signs, and prophecy. You wanted more instruction on how to get quick, clear answers from your midnight mind.

The answer to your question, in the words of the 8 ball, is:

“Don’t count on it.”

Dreams are wise inner gurus. But a dream is not a Magic 8 Ball™.

They are more likely to deliver questions and many-faceted narratives for you to contemplate rather than straight-up answers.

Our task is to float around in the mystery until we discover our own path.

If you enjoy the questions—and the quest—as much as the answers, keep reading.

In today’s special “Dream Circle Anthology” edition of This Dream is a Poem, my colleague and friend, Victoria Rabinowe, shows us what happens when we use art and poetry to free our dreams to speak in the voice of the oracle. The answers don’t come quickly, but they are worth the wait!

I’ll let Victoria’s poetic writing and collaged oracle cards speak for themselves. But first:

It all starts with a dream

Victoria came to the spring 2026 Dream Journey into the Soul retreat with a dream she titled “Women Chained Together.”

The first thing you’ll notice is that Victoria writes her dreams down with poetic line breaks right from the start!

WOMEN CHAINED TOGETHER

Women are chained together in a line.
Others are standing freely in a circle.
I become the head of the chain
I extend my hand to each
of the women standing free in the circle.
Several women turn their backs on me -
Attempting to avoid my grasp.
But one woman
Looks me in the eyes.
As I choose her
She introduces herself.

Later, during the Dream Haiku workshop that I led, Victoria created these linked mini-poems based on her dream:

I am chosen
to be the one
who chooses

Down the line
My soul waits
At the endpoint

Moving together
Hand in hand
Staying connected

Then she took the process one step further:

She led the group in creating a set of oracle cards, each representing a different aspect of the dream.

Victoria shares her technique and explains what happened next here:

Dream Tarot project from the retreat

Dreams are messengers from the deepest parts of the soul, where images speak through symbols that guide our intuition. Dreams of the night carry messages of guidance, warnings, and insights. They tell us when to pause, when to leap, where to turn, and what to leave behind.

In this retreat, each participant created a deck of divination cards, using collage and writing prompts to translate personal symbols into a personal oracle.

Participants discovered how the unconscious communicates through imagery, paradox, and surprise, with synchronicity serving as our compass.

After we completed our set of dream cards, we made our minds quiet, empty, and receptive as we started in the place of “not-knowing.”

We shuffled the cards and placed them face down on the table.

One at a time, the dreamers turned over each card and wrote a spontaneous response using three questions.

Victoria’s Tarot cards & responses

Here’s how Victoria’s art and poetry came together to reveal the dream’s messages:

QUESTION 1: What have I been holding onto that is now time to surrender?
CARD 1: What if it Was All Taken Away?

I have been holding onto my ancestral fear of having it all taken away. I have been chained to the past stories of the gentle feminine souls in my family and the women in my world who have been bound and shackled against their will by injustice and restriction.

QUESTION 2: What new energy or opportunity is emerging in my life?
CARD 2: How to Chain Change the World

I can make a change in my world by recognizing that the mindset that keeps me tethered to my own self-doubts is the very gift that will help me recognize the change I can make in others. My hands are not tied. By recognizing my strength, I can change my mind. I can break the chains that have bound me by grasping the recognition of my power. I do not have to live chained or shackled to false beliefs.

QUESTION 3: What resource or energy will support this new growth?
CARD 3: She recognized me saving lives

There is an inner eye, the eye of the inner woman who recognizes me and connects me to my work in the world. She sees where I have kept myself blinded and chained by imposter syndrome. This work that I offer the world has changed lives and continues to save lives. She is the mirror of all gentle, feminine souls that surround the “I” of my own soul.

💫

“I believe that dreams are our most authentic source of creativity. I am enchanted by their intelligence and mind-altering magic, and I invariably learn something about my inner life while producing artwork that teems with enchantment and surprise.”

—Victoria Rabinowe

Victoria Rabinowe is an internationally recognized dream workshop facilitator. She is the founding director of the DreamingArts Studio in Santa Fe, where she guides annual dream retreats with colleagues Tzivia Gover and Marta Aarli. She is the multi-award-winning author and illustrator of Conversations with Psyche: A Dreamer’s Guide to Soul-Stirring Creativity and an annual presenter at the International Association for the Study of Dreams. Learn more at: https://victoriadreams.com/

Read more about the Dream Journey retreat: The power of a single dream and a handful of haiku.

Join the 2027 Dream Journey Retreat

🐣Early Bird Discount available through Dec. 12.🐣

I hope Victoria’s creative Dream Oracle process inspires you to listen for the voice of prophecy in your dreams, too.

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

Dream and Write Together

Here’s how to have your writing featured:

💌 All subscribers to This Dream is a Poem are eligible to submit their dream poetry for publication.

🔖 We publish poetic responses that subscribers share in the comments section of our posts, as well as work generated in our classes and workshops.

✒️ To have your work featured, the first step is to write with us! You can find prompts in various posts and in the chat:

👓 Read. Comment. Enjoy!

what is better

than getting into bed

with a beautiful book

or a beautiful person.

either way

the night is for love

and sleeping and dreaming.

—Maira Kalman*

Hello, Dear Reader,

When I attend a literary reading or event, I tuck a small notebook and pen in my pocket so I can scribble down inspiring words. I listen for two things in particular:

1. Poetry prompts: During the decades when I taught poetry to teen mothers studying for their high school equivalency exams, I was always on the lookout for writing prompts to inspire my students. Poetry readings always delivered!

Having retired from my classroom teaching career, these days I keep my ears tuned for writing prompts for you! Scroll down for prompts and an invitation to publish what you write here on This Dream is a Poem.

2. Inspiring dreams: I listen for references to works inspired by dreams. Then, during the Q&A, I wave my hand high in the air and, when called on, I ask the writer whether/how dreams influence their creative process. That’s because I love loitering in the intersection between dreams and art.

Back in 2019, when I heard the writer and artist Maira Kalman speak at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, MA,1 I filled a page in my notebook with all of the above: inspiring words, ideas for prompts, and Kalman’s answer to my question about dreams.

I’ve long been a fan of Kalman’s illustrations and artwork. Among my favorites is her collaboration with Daniel Handler, Why We Broke Up, in which Handler (of Lemony Snicket fame) crafted a story based on a random selection of images drawn by Kalman, including a lobby ticket, a pinhole camera, a couple of bottle caps, etc.

I also saw Kalman perform at Jacob’s Pillow in Becket, MA, in 2017, when she collaborated with choreographer John Heginbotham on a performance based on her book and blog, “The Principles of Uncertainty.”2

In her talk at the Carle Museum, Kalman remarked on, among other things, the joys of wandering in cities and the restorative power of a slice of cake.

One thing Kalman did not address was her dreams. So, I shot up my hand and asked my favorite question:

“Do dreams influence your creativity?”

Yes, Kalman answered, she has vivid dreams, and sometimes she sketches them. Then she added:

“They’re snippets. Thank God they don’t go on forever!”

That’s where we disagree. I love a dream that rambles. But I couldn’t help but be charmed by her response.

I added Kalman’s assessment of dreams to my notebook, along with some ideas for prompts based on her words. And now, Dear Reader, I hand my random notes over to you:

Your turn

What follows are some of the quotes that I recently fished out of the years-old notebook I kept during Kalman’s talk.

Choose one or more of the quotes above and start writing:

• Put one of the quotes in the mouth of a character you’re writing about, and see what happens next.

• Use one of the quotes to launch a poem or spark an art project.

• Use a theme from one of these quotes to reflect on in your journal, such as: things I’ve made up; random things I love; what I notice when I wander; digressions; or anything else that this post makes you think about.

Happy writing!

Share what you’ve created with us!

Did you know you can publish your work here on This Dream is a Poem? Here’s how:

Have your writing featured on This Dream is a Poem’s Dream Circle Anthology:

💌 All subscribers to either of my two Substack publications are eligible to submit their writing for publication.

🔖 We publish only pieces that were written in response to our posts, as well as work generated in our classes and workshops.

✒️ To have your work featured, the first step is to write with us! You can find prompts in various posts and in the chat:

Join Tzivia’s subscriber chat

👓 Read. Comment. Enjoy! 👓

Find more creativity prompts on the chat:

Until next time,

Join the ‘staycation for writers’ the weekend of August. 21-23:
Learn more:
Stay Cozy @ Home & Write

At Home Writing Retreat

NOTES:

* Quoted from Kalman’s blog: https://mairakalman.com/

—Anita Gallers, from her poem, ‘A prophetic voice speaks in pantoum circles.’

A prophetic voice speaks in pantoum circles

by Anita Gallers

For Tzivia Gover, with thanks for the prompt

What can I say that won’t be vague, opaque?
There will be sun, clouds, lifegiving rain, storms.
Wins may also be losses. Losses may also be wins.
Sometimes, maybe, not necessarily.

There will be sun, clouds, lifegiving rain, storms.
Life is struggle. We are all we have. That’s a lot.
Sometimes, maybe, not necessarily.
Love sees your gifts, is your gift.

Life is struggle. We are all we have. That’s a lot.
What do you want from me?
Love sees your gifts, is your gift.
I am a transmitter, not an interpreter.

What do you want from me?
Wins may also be losses. Losses may also be wins.
I am a transmitter, not an interpreter.
What can I say that won’t be vague, opaque?

About the poem

“When I wrote this poem, I was away for a rare 3-day weekend of actual rest. I had brought a pantoum prompt with me and wrote two pantoums while I was away. Shortly before packing up to come home, I saw Tzivia’s prompt and thought about how prophecy tends to be vague, opaque, and highly open to interpretation, and also how much suffering prophets often experience at the expense of prophecy and people’s expectations of them. It seemed like the cyclical, repetitive nature of the pantoum structure would fit well with this - and I dashed this off before packing up my restful weekend to come back to real life.” —Anita Gallers

How to Write a Pantoum

About the poet

Based in Northampton, MA, writer and educator Anita Gallers is the Co-Editor of the Florence Poets Society’s annual poetry anthology, Silkworm, and has had poems published in a variety of journals and anthologies. Her poetry collection Aleph in the Asphalt is forthcoming this year from Human Error Press. Anita is the great-granddaughter of Yiddish writer, educator, and labor leader Jacob (Yankev) Pat, and she has translated his last book, Khanke, about Anita’s namesake and other family members killed in the Bialystok ghetto; a Yiddish-English bilingual edition is forthcoming from Kinder-Loshn Publications in 2027.

Here’s how to have your writing featured:

💌 All subscribers to This Dream is a Poem are eligible to submit their dream poetry for publication.

🔖 We publish poetic responses that subscribers share in the comments section of our posts, as well as work generated in our classes and workshops.

✒️ To have your work featured, the first step is to write with us! You can find prompts in various posts and in the chat:

Join Tzivia’s subscriber chat

👓 Read. Comment. Enjoy! 👓

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

Dream and Write Together

The ancients always thought of coming events as having shadows cast in front of them.
~Carl Jung, Introduction to Analytical Psychology

Hello, Dear Reader,

I’m not supposed to be here today. My calendar says I should be across the continent at the International Association for the Study of Dreams conference, in a hotel room I’d hoped would overlook a pool but would probably face the parking lot.

Instead, I’m at my desk watching the breeze ruffling the same maple leaves I look out on every day.

Why the change in plans?

A string of mishaps and otherwise-manageable medical issues left me uneasy about taking a cross-country trip. Unsure, I asked my dreams for a sign. “One clear dream,” I asked my midnight mind.

The first dream’s imagery was simple—but its meaning wasn’t. I asked again. That night, I dreamed I arrived at my destination, checked into the hotel, and unzipped my suitcase to find it empty. I’d forgotten to pack! Plus, my travel companions weren’t colleagues from the conference but two friends who live a mile away. Even dreaming, I knew an empty suitcase wasn’t insurmountable—I had a credit card—but why local friends instead of my far-flung dream community? That could mean I should stay close to home.

Weighing the options, I decided the dream had given me a green light to go, but I’d tuck essentials into my carry-on so I wouldn’t arrive completely unprepared if the airline lost my luggage.

But that didn’t sit right either. And with only a few nights left for pre-trip dreaming, I asked the Universe one more time for a clear, unmistakable sign.

That morning, I called my mechanic about what I was sure was a “small” car problem, hoping to have it fixed before taking the hour-and-a-half drive to the airport in just a few days. His diagnosis deflated me: The problem wasn’t minor.

“I can still drive it though, right?” I asked. “It’s not like the wheels are going to come flying off or anything, is it?”

“Well,” he began—

It turns out, they could. And he couldn’t get me in for a service appointment for at least another week.

I hung up and began researching alternate plans for errands and transportation to the airport.

Then I realized I’d just received the sign I’d asked for:

When the wheels are coming off, park the car.

I canceled my trip.

A wish for omniscience and a nod to omens

Had I made the right decision? Should I have relied on signs and omens rather than simple logic? Would the results have been the same either way?

At times like this, I wish for an omniscient narrator—the knowing voice in novels that hears everyone’s thoughts and sees where every road leads. That storyteller knows the hidden currents and can raise a red flag of warning when the calm river is about to become destabilizing rapids.

Or maybe we already possess such an overseeing presence.

Our unconscious mind, which absorbs far more than conscious awareness can hold, invites us into a vast sea of information through dreams and when intuition warns that something is wrong, or when it buoys our heart to let us know that something else is unaccountably right.

Freud observed that dreams often reveal knowledge and memories that the waking subject doesn’t know they possess. Jung called the external appearance of inner events synchronicity: meaningful coincidences that feel like omens. It could be a stray acorn that plops onto our head, waking us from sleepy distraction so we don’t wander into a patch of poison ivy …

… or a mechanic’s sober assessment—jolting us into a safer choice.

Rooted in prophecy

Linguistically, omniscience and omen share roots in knowing and prophecy.

Omniscient, which combines the Latin roots: omni-, meaning "all" or "universally," and the verb scire, meaning "to know,” can grant a literary narrator an all-knowing perspective in a story or poem.

Omen, from the ancient Greek oionos, meaning foretelling, is linked to the ancient art of observing birds of prey to predict the future according to their flight patterns or calls.

Both omniscience and omens offer invitations to look beyond the narrow first-person view we habitually live by.

At night, dreams—with access to a vast storehouse of unnoticed details—can offer a bit more omniscience, surfacing warnings or encouragements we wouldn’t otherwise register.

Using dreamwork techniques, we can use our imagination to slip into the perspectives of each dream character, and even dream animals and objects, to gain a fuller picture of our circumstances. We can become our own omniscient narrator.

In waking life, sometimes all it takes is a feather floating down before us, or an honest mechanic, to keep us from losing our bearings and steering into danger.

Making the right choice

Did I make the right choice?

Did my dreams even help?

Was the mechanic’s diagnosis really a sign, or was it just a conversation with a guy who fixes cars for a living?

I’m a poet and a dreamworker, so I stand behind the process of mining my dreams for information, and heeding the signs that appear in waking life, too.

I’m also a pragmatic person. So, I ran my decision past a few members of my inner circle, all of whom I trust for their wisdom, friendship, and lovingkindness.

Synthesizing all available information from realms both worldly and otherworldly works best for me.

And so, here I am: disappointed to be far from my dream tribe, but content to know that I did what was best for my health and well-being.

Three lessons from life about decision-making:

1. In addition to coin tosses and lists of pros and cons, look to signs and omens to guide you through decision-making. Because, why not bring a little magic-dazzle to an otherwise grueling process?

2. Don’t sweat it (like I did). When a decision is difficult to make, with as many items in the pros column as in the cons, either way is likely the best one.

3. Divine Presence is on both sides of any decision. Wherever we go, there She is to comfort and guide us.

Take this as a sign for your writing

Take today’s meditation on omens and omniscience as a wink from the universe, alerting you that your writing might need a little help from beyond.

Try this:

If you’ve been writing your poems or stories from the popular first-person perspective, this might be your sign to shift into omniscience.

• Inspired by the quote above, write in a prophetic voice.

Or

• Write about a time you or your character experienced prophecy through a dream or waking vision.

Get published!

If you’ve written something in response to a prompt in this or another of my Substack posts, books, or workshops, drop it in the comments! You may be selected to be published in the recently launched This Dream is a Poem Dream Circle Anthology!

Leave a comment

Until next time, I’m wishing you dreams of clear guidance,

Resources for dreamers:

1. Contact me for a 1:1 Dreamwork Session. (Details here.)

2. Check out the International Association for the Study of Dreams, the world’s premier dream organization, and join the conference next spring:

You don’t have to book a room, board a flight, or pack a bag for this writing retreat! Just get comfy in your favorite chair and enjoy a weekend of focused writing, prompts, encouragement, and community.

Paid subscribers receive 20% off the already affordable price! Just use the “Substack Member” option on the registration form.

I designed the Stay @ Home & Write virtual weekend retreats because, as writers, we need:

• long stretches of uninterrupted writing time,

• inspiring prompts to help us get started

• opportunities to share what we’re working on and to connect with others,

• plus a few well-timed breaks to get outside for a walk, stretch, or nap—and then return to the page refreshed.

If that’s just what you’ve been looking for:

Come home to your writing the weekend of August. 21-23. Register today for the At Home Weekend Retreat online.

Write at home

In this low-cost Write-at-Home retreat, you’ll write at home at your desk or in the park—or close to home: at a local café or library—it’s up to you.

Register

Work on a big project or get in the flow with daily writing prompts and virtual check-ins with a community of other writers.

This is a live, interactive Zoom retreat, with ample time to connect with others in real time on screen, balanced by plenty of time off-screen to write and relax on your own.

Beginning Friday at 4 p.m. US Eastern Time through Sunday at 4:30 p.m. US Eastern Time.

Register for the At Home Writing Retreat.

The Stay @ Home Virtual Weekend Writing Retreat includes:

• Advance guidance on how to set up your at-home retreat

• A full weekend with lots of time to write

• Intention-setting, gentle, and supportive accountability to help you stay focused

• Interactive morning and lunchtime check-ins

• A supportive community of writers

• Read-aloud circles to share what you’ve written

• Optional prompts to inspire you

• Focused and engaged time on Zoom and ample off-screen time to write and reflect

Choose the pricing option* that works for you.

• $95 regular price (20% off, or just $75 for paid subscribers)

• $45 low-income, student, senior price

• $125 angel price (allows us to offer low-price options for those who need it)

• Have a question? Email me.

*If you need a greater discount due to finances, use the pay-what-you-can option.

Come home to your writing

Tzivia Gover, award-winning author of Dreaming on the Page and more books. (Photo credit: Victoria Rabinowe)

Your retreat leader is Tzivia Gover, author of Dreaming on the Page: Tap into Your Midnight Mind to Supercharge Your Writing (Independent Book Publisher Award Gold winner) and more books about sleep, dreams, and waking up to your best life.

I hope to see you at the retreat. Until then, may you be nourished and inspired in this season of blossoming beauty.

This Dream Is a Poem is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

You are receiving this email because you attended one of our classes, workshops, or events, or joined via our website. We hope you’re enjoying these emails. Be in touch and let us know how we can do even better.

Hello Dear Reader,

One question I’m often asked is, “What do I do if I wake up from a nightmare?”The impulse often is to try to forget the dream as quickly as possible. But that would be like shutting the door on a wise guru who is delivering an important message.

One participant in our recent Dream Journey into the Soul retreat decided to do the opposite. Christina Scott is no stranger to nightmares, which might be why, when we invited participants to bring one dream to work on through dream theater, poetry, and collage art for the full 5-day experience, she courageously brought a heart-thudding nightmare.

Christina’s dramatic dream opened with a horse-headed man with a mysterious briefcase in hand, knocking on the door to be let in.

Who was he? What did he want? And what was inside that briefcase?

Christina hung in there for a wild ride to find out. And she memorialized and honored the dream's transformative messages through the collage and a series of miniature poems, which are published below.

Commenting on the process, Christina said,

“I have very vivid, complex dreams, and usually multiple dreams a night. So, dreamwork can easily become a complicated process for me. I often get caught in the details and struggle to zoom out and see the bigger picture, the larger message the dream is trying to communicate. Working with the dream haikus was an interesting experience, because it allowed me to hone in on the dream while staying rooted to the big picture. I was able to write different haikus focusing on specific aspects of the dream, but in such a succinct way that it felt tied to a deeper, more expansive theme.”

I hope Christina’s creative journey through her dream inspires you to welcome your dreams as muses and gurus, too!

Read more about the Dream Journey retreat here.

Dream Haiku

by Christina Scott

The horse knocks and waits

while I run into darkness.

This journey is mine.

It’s merely a door,

elemental at heart.

I reach for the knob.

🐴

Plato taught me this,

that truth lives beneath shadow,

gifts wrapped in darkness.

Water sustains me.

Society dehydrates.

I let my soul drink.

🐴

Lightning, sand, make glass

Fear of shattering, I hide.

Now I drink the flame.

High volume and sharp

oversaturated sun,

too bright to see me.

🐴

Feathers and horse hair

bring me back to who I am.

Ancestral story.

Dream collages and haikus by © Christina Scott, 2026, all rights reserved.

👩🏻‍💻

Want to create your own Dream-Minis? Here’s a post to get you started:

Learn to create dream haiku here:

Here’s how to have your writing featured:

💌 All subscribers to This Dream is a Poem are eligible to submit their dream poetry for publication.

🔖 We publish poetic responses that subscribers share in the comments section of our posts, as well as work generated in our classes and workshops.

✒️ To have your work featured, the first step is to write with us! You can find prompts in various posts and in the chat:

Join Tzivia’s subscriber chat

👓 Read. Comment. Enjoy! 👓

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

"The dream is an involuntary kind of poetry."
-- Jean Paul Richter

I’ve confessed it before and I’ll confess it again. I take a little bit of pride in my prodigious dream recall. Which does not reflect well on my psycho-spiritual evolution. After all, I deeply believe that the purpose of dreamwork is to soften the ego and open us to the wider wisdom of love an joy that some call God.

I do know better. In fact, a dream teacher, some years ago, told our group that all you need are five dreams for a lifetime of reflection and self-knowledge.

I’ll always enjoy my multiplicity of dreams. But today I am celebrating the power of One Dream!

During our Dream Journey into the Soul retreat which I led recently with two fabulous colleagues, each group member explored one dream using various methods over the course of the five-day event in Santa Fe, NM.

We created collaged dream oracle cards in a workshop led by Victoria Rabinowe.

We acted out our dreams with Marta Aarli, who also offered magical sound-baths with her talented and generous husband, Bret Mann.

I led Dreaming on the Page dream-writing workshops, and in between we were inspired by gallery tours, and nourished by insightful dream sharing.

Dreams in miniature

After going ‘baroque’ all week—unpacking the details and associations of our dreams in expansive luxury, I led a session on creating miniature haiku-like poetic expressions that contained a week’s worth of dreamwork wisdom in just a few lines each.

For reasons of confidentiality, I won’t share the participants’ creations, but I will offer mine as an example, and an inspiration for you to try on your own.

In the process, each dream character, creature, and setting had a chance to unfold its unique perspective.

Learn to create dream haiku here:

Here are my collage cards, and the dream haiku I created for each one.

1. Abandoned

Two lovers enter one house

after the other, shopping for their perfect home.

Instead, two become three, and one is left alone.

2. Vexed

You gave your sweetness away.

Who will pay the price

of my displacement?

3. Enraptured

Crouched in a corner of pain.

Blind to love’s hand reaching down from above.

Unfold your regrets. Say yes to this kiss.

4. On her Own

Coyote shows her teeth

to your hand. You break out

into red-hot tears.

5. Tender Hope

This road, cracked and time-worn as a crocodile’s tail,

and a line of women, walking: young and broken ones, and elders singing songs

that make your scars dance.

Dream cards and Haiku by © Tzivia Gover, 2026, all rights reserved, Third House Moon, LLC

👩🏻‍💻

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and inspiring dreams,

I choose to hold you in my dreams, for in my dreams you have no end.”
― Rumi

Hello Dear Reader,

Over on my other online publication (yes, I have two!) I have spent the first half of this year translating the final chapter in the biblical matriarch Sarah’s story and assembling (and editing) my translator’s notes and commentary.

I’ve been hovering about that concluding chapter for longer than I have on the four others that I’ve completed.

Perhaps that’s because writing about Sarah’s death and Abraham’s grief has allowed me to process and reflect on my own. As I have shared here, I lost several important people in this past year. So, standing beside Abraham as he prepares for Sarah’s burial has created a space for me to mourn, too.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about endings. Unlike children’s stories, our lives don’t finish with the simple inscription of the words The End on the final page.

Which brings me to today’s missive in which I offer a reflection on a tender moment between my father and me, just after my mother’s death, at about this time eleven years ago. That incident offered another perspective on closing out the saga of a person’s life.

All of which brings me back to my other publication, where I recently published an obituary for Sarah, which I wrote because I felt she needed an ending befitting the first Matriarch of Genesis. You can read that, here.

The Life of H

In which I write Sarah’s obituary

“I don't care if the New York Times writes an obituary for me. I just want you to write one. ... You say you're not special because the world doesn't know about you, but that's an insult to me. I know about you…

Read more

6 months ago · Tzivia Gover

And now, here’s a little story I jotted down some time ago, and which I feel moved to share with you today:

Paper, scissors, stone

After my mother’s funeral I found my father, long since divorced, bent over his kitchen table, scissors and glue in hand.

This hulk of a man, former athlete, former Navy officer, whose heavy hands and thick fingers I’d never seen wrap around a glue stick, was now carefully clipping and pasting with a childlike determination.

He’d unearthed from the basement a scrapbook I had never seen. But I recognized my mother’s careful, boxy script on its thick pages.

When he noted my presence, my father flipped the book open to the beginning, where the story my mother had been telling in clippings and photos began with their courtship:

There were ticket stubs from the football game where they first met, their engagement announcement that had appeared in a Long Island newspaper, the invitation to his graduation from the Naval Academy, and the announcement of their marriage.

There was a photo of curvaceous 1950s-style car parked on a palm-tree-lined street, and the first envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. that was mailed to the bungalow in Coronado where they first nested. Three birth notices followed: My brother’s, my sister’s, then mine.

And then: A flurry of empty pages. She had become too busy with us kids, or maybe what she had imagined as a record of her happily-ever-after, had started to become a more complicated story that she couldn’t so easily tell with society page clippings and ticket stubs.

What ephemera would capture the silent regrets, bursts of rage, disappointments, and ultimately the dissolution of their marriage?

Decades later, here was my father, long since remarried, with her obituary that was contained in trim column inches, clipped and hovering above one final, brittled page.

“What are you doing?” I asked, as I watched him paste that tidy paper tombstone in place.

“Now,” he said, “we know how the story ends.”

In stone we had etched the words: Wife, mother, and friend, above a line of poetry about everlasting beauty.

In her New York City apartment, where she created her chosen life of independence, friendship, and culture, she had filled blank books with containing everything else:

In her journals she took note of triumphs of liberation, stories of the professors she bedded, marches for justice she joined, lunches with friends, visits to museums and parks, travels to Europe, Japan, and the story she told and revised, again and again about the end of her marriage and how it launched the beginning of a new life that she loved.

A life that included an evolving and deepening friendship with my father, who though happily remarried, insisted on taking her out for a special dinner on what would have been their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

And when she was deep into the dementia that eventually killed her, we had lunch with my dad. Afterwards, my mother said, “Whoever that man was, I don’t remember his name, but I know that I love him.”

And now her ex-husband, with devotion and glue, was pasting the last fragment of her life story into the scrapbook she had begun in hopeful anticipation, and then abandoned in bitter regret, and most likely forgotten all about.

My father was granting her the gift of an ending in the best way he knew how.

But one thing their lives together (and separately) have taught me, is that each of our stories can contain multiple versions of happily-ever-after—and they can appear at unexpected moments, and at any time, along the way.

Until next time, I’m wishing you happy new beginnings that will one day lead to deeply fulfilling happily ever afters!

Let’s call it a paradox! I am a devotee of dreams, and an advocate of sweet slumber. And yet, when it came to developing a yoga practice, savasana (relaxation pose) challenged me the most. I tell you all about that in today’s missive.

But first, I want to thank all of my subscribers. The simple fact of your interest and attention is a precious gift to me. And for those who support this work with a paid subscription in any amount, today I’m offering you a special bonus. Scroll down to redeem your free excerpt from my book, Dreaming on the Page: Tap into Your Midnight Mind to Supercharge Your Writing. May it inspire your dreams on the pillow and on the page!

And now, here’s a sleep and dream expert’s confession of how I learned the art of deep rest (finally) on the yoga mat.

Resisting relaxing

When I was in my twenties, I was a Karateka. I spent four nights a week at the dojo practicing my punches and kicks, learning to fight with sticks and fists.

My friends waxed poetic about yoga, but I thought that was for “old” people. Yoga was for my mother and aunt, who first discovered it in the 1970s. The exercise studio where they took exercise classes, introduced them to yoga. The class was led by a Russian teacher who had a stern manner, and who arrived each week wearing an absurdly tall winter hat. Each time they spoke of him they broke down laughing.

But they took the class seriously.

I remember watching my mom (then in her 40s), sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom studying photos of swamis swaddled in white practice garments, twisting their bodies like corkscrews or standing on their heads. Then she would attempt the poses as best she could, earnestly at first, then breaking into giggles as she stuck out her tongue in Lion Pose.

Years later, twenty-something me thought of yoga as something I might try when I was much older—maybe in my 40s. In the meantime, I cinched my brown belt around the waist of my karate uniform, and prepared to practice my latest kata or spar with my dojo-mates.

After several years of intensive practice, a knee injury, and then the birth of my daughter, derailed my karate training. I put my gi away and turned my attention to my duties as a mom and pursuing a career as a journalist.  To keep fit I swam laps and took long bike rides.

And then, true to my own prediction, not long after I turned 40, I took my first yoga class. I was surprised to find that eveb as fit and flexible as I was, the postures were demanding and downright difficult.

Like karate—but different

The teacher, clad in fashionable spandex, spoke reverentially of poses like camel, in which you sit on your knees, lean backwards and look up to the sky while reaching your hands back and down to your heels. But all I experienced were screaming muscles and complaining joints. Plus a tinge of shame—and maybe even some anger—because this practice I’d always thought was for old ladies, was actually as challenging as a karate workout. Just in a very different way.

As difficult as it was for me to do a handstand, or hold chair pose, the hardest posture for me turned out to be savasana, or corpse pose—the one where you lie on your back at the end of a yoga class, relax all your muscles, and basically do nothing. It’s a pose of integration and rest.

And that was the problem. I was a do-er. I worked, socialized, tended to my home and family, joined book groups, and boards, and took classes at the local college.

During my first yoga class I actually sat up during savasana. I still couldn’t shake the mindset I’d learned from reading Seventeen magazine when I was barely more than a little girl. I read that to stay slim you should sit rather than lie down; stand rather than sit; and move rather than stand still. Other nuggets of so-called wisdom included standing with feet together in front of the mirror and checking to see if the spaces between where one’s ankles, calves, knees, and thighs met created three diamond-shaped spaces—and other paragons of bodily perfection that led me into decades of body image insanity.

By the time I found myself doing warrior pose on a sticky mat, I was proud to have healed myself of most of the toxic messages about the feminine ideal. And yet, there I was, unwilling to lie down for five minutes at the end of class, when I could instead use that time to do something to tone my muscles or maximize my heart rate.

I quickly progressed from beginner classes to intermediate ones, always choosing the more advanced form of the posture the teacher offered rather than the gentler options.

Over the years I became skillful at flowing from one asana to the next. But resting poses were still the most challenging for me. Even if I could settle my body into stillness on the mat, my mind would scramble for something to ponder.

The proliferation of power yoga classes and yoga-HIIT fusion hybrids remind me that I’m not the only one to make this gentle practice into a competitive ordeal.

Over the years I’ve learned to settle into the true nature of yoga, including studying yogic breathwork, philosophy, and the place of asana practice (doing poses) within that broader context.

I learned best from devoted teachers who preached resting between poses, and softening rather than pushing through the asanas. Savasana, it turns out, isn’t a waste of time. In fact, it’s the whole point of yoga. The physical exercise is meant to condition the body, breath, and mind so we can sit in stillness for long periods, and quiet our minds for extended periods of meditation.

Relaxing is an art and resting in one place with a single mental focus is an advanced skill that takes daily practice.

Now in my sixties, I’m still learning to be gentle with myself. These days I give myself a little pat on the back after a yoga class in which I chose to perform the less challenging version of a pose, when that’s what my body is requesting. More and more often nowadays I don’t have a choice. Age has a mind (and a body) of its own.

Learning to listen, to my muscles and joints and to honor the limits of my energy, is one of the greatest gifts I’ve received from practicing yoga.

Of course, yoga isn’t just for old folks like me, but the lessons I’ve learned on the mat sure do help when it comes to the art of aging with some semblance of grace.

Until next time, I’m wishing you sweet and restorative dreams. (And don’t forget to scroll down for your bonus gift!)

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