The Dream

Herb school.
I was struggling to learn.

My teacher asked me:
“Do you know the route of Bunny Munro?
The low road along the river?
The one he took to go fishing?”

I nodded, uncertainly.

“Then you know where I live.
Come round at 7:00,
and I’ll take you through it.
A list.
Of things to do.”

Fireweed.

It’s the only entry I can recall.

The Meaning

school
The new path forward.
But I’m struggling.
And I need help.

teacher
She’s willing to guide me—
but she expects me to take the path Bunny didn’t take.

river
The emotional low road.
Inward.
Following the bank of my inner landscape.

The river = emotion.
Fishing = delving.
Go deep. Go slow.

7
The number of the divine.
A cosmic nudge:
Take the hard, boring, muddy path through your emotions.
Fish out what’s true.
Show up at my place at 7—and everything will become clear.

fireweed
She grows from ashes. We’re going to need her.

What Lingers…

What if the path to healing runs low, not high— through mud, not sky?

What if blooming from ashes isn’t a miracle, but a method Fireweed already knows and can teach?

---

Marginalia

I’m waiting to begin a new herbal medicine course, and my dreams are pulling old patterns and fears to the surface. This is the second in a series of herb school dreams.

In Incense Blocks & Period Costumes, I weigh old ways against new.
In Competence vs. Compassion, I’m profiled by my tutors.
In I Was Late, Afterall, I abandon my own needs for accountability.
In Flawed but Trying, I’m exposed in my mess while defending my son.

Journaling helps to see the tapestry being woven: the curriculum beneath my surface, the lessons I didn’t know I was studying.