An excerpt from The Gathering Basket:

     I have read about therapists who work with dreams.  I thought about calling one.  However, I couldn't force my hand to the telephone.  After a lifetime of hurdles, pain and heartbreak, why would I want to delve into a dream that reeks of putrid air, dying blood, ghosts and unthinkable horror?  Fate, however, took over.  Before the wedding, happenstance brought the dream therapist to me.  “Here’s my card,” she ended our accidental encounter.  It read, “Rosemary Quintana – MA, MFCC, Dream Therapist, Shaman.”

     Rosemary would soon be here.  Is there enough wood for the fire?  Is it warm enough inside?  Should I fill the candy jar?  Is the bathroom clean?  More importantly, what will happen once she begins the session?

     A wind swirl whips past the window and spins a collection of leaves across the wood decking that leads to the driveway.

     I did as she asked over the telephone."  Be sure to write down the dream you have the night before I arrive."

     That was the easy part.  This dream is as much a part of me as my right hand.

     When her red Toyota first shows and weaves its way from the mudded dirt road, through the orchard -- then parks, I struggle for control.  I remember the stress management workshop I once took and force a quick sigh then exhale.

     Her abundant mahogany hair touches her full, brown velvet skirt.  Turquoise stones drape along her white velvet blouse.  The wind challenges the long, modest length of the skirt.  Rosemary uses her bulging canvas tote bag to keep the velvet frock under her control.

     We embrace.

     "That's quite a storm overhead," she greets."  Never take these things for granted."

     "You sound ominous," I blab forth.

     "Storms are good.  They sweep and recharge.  It's a good sign.  A positive synchronicity,"  Rosemary explains in a song like voice.

     Good!  After all, the haunting presence of this miserable nightmare has dominated my nights for more than 40 years.  And for the first time in more than 40 years, there is enough security in my life to allow me to challenge its strength.

     "Since I'm running a bit late, let's get on with our project and make ourselves comfortable and pray," Rosemary says as she fusses with the velvet skirt.

     "Should I lay down or something?"  I ask, feeling awkward.

     "No.  We'll talk awhile first."

     From her tote, Rosemary pulls a long brown feather, a white candle, and an image of the Blessed Mary.  She arranges them on the table that I have just swiped for dust.  Her arms rise to the ceiling."  I call for the numkympoi -- the spirit who gave light --and all beings who dwell within to assist us today."  She lights the candle."  Ancient beings of good, help Annamarie and me to see the truth within the warm glow of your love.  I call upon Saint Michael, Kuan Yin, Saint Joan of Arc, the Buddha, and Blessed Mary to guide us in the wisdom of all things good and right."

     Rosemary pauses.  The wind calms and the fireplace's warmth swells the room.  Her jeweless left hand sweeps the long feather through the air.  "I call upon the Goddesses of peace to help guide the spirits of animals who so willingly serve our own well being.  Let these guides lead us to the truth.  And all spirits without interests in the great good, leave this room now!"

     Air, from deep inside Rosemary's lungs, pushes out from her lips.  She slowly lifts her head to face me and smiles."  I was hoping that Geof could join us."

     "We talked about that.  Geof has his own demons and felt that he could not be a good writer until he tackled them.  He thinks that I've quit writing for those same reasons and has urged me from the get go to talk with someone."

     "Sometimes a spouse won't understand what his or her partner experiences in counseling, but, if he's been through this, then I suspect that the two of you will not loose communications," Rosemary clarifies.

     "He's very supportive.  It's his support that gives me the guts to start this exploration."

     "Bless your marriage!" Rosemary exclaims."  A good partnership eases the challenge of healing."  Her smile shows perfectly white and straight teeth.  Lines crinkle the corner of her golden brown eyes."  So, Annamarie, I want to talk about your dream.  But first, I'd like you to find a favorite wrap.”

     That was easy.  Nearby rests a patchwork quilt I made 22 years ago.  It adapts its gold and red hued blocks across my lap.

     Eyes closed, I try to step into my slumber's dark world.  My body fights back: Mouth dries, throat clenches and stomach swirls.

     "Annamarie, you are in a safe place.  It is safe to visit that dream," Rosemary softly speaks.

     "I know that.  It's just that this isn't an easy place for me to go."

     "Let's breathe together.  Keep your eyes closed and breathe in… good.  Exhale and with this next breath take in the sunlight and let it envelop you.  Breathe, Annamarie, breathe in the power of good."

     The rhythmic breath loosens my muscles and I begin to peek into the dark side of my nights:

     “No, go away!” I force a scream. 

     A maniacal laugh mocks, “You can’t stay away.  Come.  Come inside, little girl.  Ah! Hah!  Hah!”

     When my hand reaches the cold, iron gate, the gate creaks against its rusted hinges then reveals a long, straight path.  My weighted feet struggle to drag across an unkempt lawn.  Silence suggests that there is safety.  Death’s rotting fumes slash away the moment.

     “No!  Don’t make me go!”  But an unseen power takes charge of my feet.  It tries to shove me inside the tall, empty gray house.

     “Oh God!  Save me.”

     From behind an unseen wall, a baby's pleading cry won't end.

     The neglected metal fence surrounds me.  Now not an ounce of blue layers the sky.  Like the house before me, it is gray.  A dull, hopeless gray.  A whirl of nausea disrupts my insides.  Screams from the house’s top floor jab like arrows through my head.  I cover my ears but the shouting and crying grows louder.

     I sense evil's return when I try to scramble outside of the fence.  Like a vampire's hypnotic powers it lures me from escape and back toward the front door.  My spirit rebels against the vileness of this thing.  All will escapes my flesh and bones.  Only the will of my spirit stands.  This battle continues: My useless body is pulled toward the gray Victorian; my spirit wills itself back.  My body is useless.  Sweat is all that moves from my catatonic being.

     Vomit’s stench fills the air.  The evil cracks a victor’s smirk.  But I can not let it win.  I pray to regain control.  My body limps.  I pray harder and my body moves closer to a pool of warm vomit.  Before the disgorged pool claims me, a gust of wind, bathed in a brilliant light reunites my body and soul.

     I tug the quilt closer to my face.  It's familiar smell comforts.  Words leave me.

     "Annamarie, I want you to breathe deep and exhale.  That's right. Do it again.  And again," Rosemary coaches.  The room remains still while the late October storm whips across the fastened windows of this candle lit room.

     I break the silence.  "That's it.  That's the dream.  It sucks."

     "Does the dream vary much?" Rosemary inquires.

     "Sometimes.  But the constants are the house -- always gray, always with stairs, always dismal; and the ghosts that try to make me go upstairs."

     "Have you ever made it upstairs?" she asks.

     "I've been pulled up the stairs, but I never go any farther.  There's a shut door at the top and I'm always so overwhelmed with fear that I wake up at that point."

     "The symbolism is dynamic.  It's so dynamic, that I want you to learn how to use the power of animal spirit guides.  Our animal companions wish us no harm.  They see beyond our vision and hear beyond our ears.  These guides gather around us and sense our needs.  Unlike some human spirits, our animal guides want nothing more than our love with no conditions attached.  You will learn to see the guide that awaits your call for help.  Trust what you see and feel.  We will keep all our thoughts and actions in the light.  I will not let that waiver in any way.  Are you ready to try?"