Dream of Debbie and a Return to the Temple of the Mother Goddess

Iain and brother Bill were at the pub. They were seriously pissed. A policewoman breathalysed Iain outside the bar. He blew 4.06. ‘My lord,’ the policewoman said. We walked into a shop where a nice girl served me. She liked the fact that I lived near the University of New South Wales. She lived at Burwood. She told me it was only a 25 minute drive to the University from her place. I told her that Burwood was OK as my area is overrated. Then she introduced herself. ‘My name is Debbie,’ she said. She took my phone number. The guys were impressed. ‘She’s nice,’ one of them said. But I wasn’t so thrilled. From my point of view she looked undistinguished. Besides the night was still young. Later that night in another dream I found myself at a lecture given by my friend Dan. My sister was with me. His talk was about success. He kept repeating the same talk every two hours. Several guys from high school were in attendance, among them Charlie, the diminutive bully. Charlie was there as an example of what it is to be a success. We walked outside to a little cottage. I placed my arm over the entry gate. As Charlie was small he waked right under my arm. ‘Under here go those who live with their mothers.’ I was then inside the temple with my sister. Water was on the floor through which I could see footsteps made by a woman. Modern sculptures adorned the walls. The temple was very beautiful and comforting on my feet.


I always pay attention to those who introduce themselves in my dreams. This was how I met Daphne in the dream of being at home with unexpected house guests (September 2015) and the dream of the South American prostitute (October 2015). In this dream it was the rather plain Debbie. She was very friendly, boringly so, and had a sporty look. Debbie is the diminutive of Deborah, a good biblical name, and as I discovered, a name rich in mythology. To the ancients the name Deborah was synonymous with the bee, the ancient symbol of the divine feminine. This mother goddess was often depicted as a dancing bee or as the Queen bee and its representations adorn many ancient temples. The bee was also used by Napoleon, who had mystic leanings, as his personal emblem. (https://romancingthebee.com/2012/05/13/the-bee-as-symbol-of-the-divine-mother/).

What’s beautiful about this dream is that it answered my inference that the temple I repeatedly visit in my dreams, as described in the dream of entering the temple and encountering a hydra crawling on the wall (February 2016), belongs to her, the divine mother goddess. This was confirmed in the dream by the voice who spoke, ‘under here go those who live with their mothers,’ when the diminutive bully Charlie walked under my arm, and by the fact that I entered this temple with a woman. It’s also interesting that Dan bridged the link between these two dreams. His girlfriend’s name is Deb and my unconscious locked on to that fact to take me back to Deborah and her temple in the second dream.

Did I meet the mother goddess? Is she the source of my inner female? Discounting these mystic musings what I can say is that I find her presence reassuring. The dream also revealed that our correspondence is on her terms as she took my number and can call me at her pleasure while not giving me hers. Over the years it has become apparent to me that I am, for lack of a better word, her servant. I am here to do something for her and when that job is done my time will be up. It’s a feeling, perhaps even a morbid fear I have, that in surrendering to her she will ultimately take my life.

Napoleon was afraid of cats

A fear misplaced for it was his lovely Queen

Who stung him on a Gizan plain

Yet the temple was a comforting place. Gone were the inscrutable cuneiform tablets. In their place stood modern art sculptures, objects I can relate to as they belong to my time. And the water on the floor was so soothing. It felt like my feet were being ceremoniously cleansed by mother goddess who was welcoming me to her home. A woman made the footsteps I saw in the puddle of water. Like Debbie she was undistinguished but what I remember was her slow and deliberate walking pace. Was she showing me the way to honour the divine mother or was she luring me to my doom like the great Bonaparte years before when he entered her temple in an ancient land?

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