New Moon on the Ides of March, 15th, is in Pisces, 25 degrees. And very close to them, [Sun and Moon] at 26 degrees, are Mercury and Uranus, making a spectacular line-up, particularly interesting to those of us whose charts reverberate to late Pisces, or any of the late mutables or early cardinals. Mars at 0 Leo trines them all, and Saturn at 1 Libra opposes them, almost a bucket handle, good old Saturn giving gravitas to what might otherwise be a hot air balloon ascent, if a rather moist one, perhaps spreading outwards like a giant ripple over the oceans, rather than upwards into vertical flight. But Saturn assures us that it will be them, almost a bucket handle, good old Saturn giving gravitas to what might otherwise be a hot air balloon ascent, if a rather moist one, perhaps spreading outwards like a giant ripple reined in, there will be a tight hand on the bridle, no complete dispersal into the upper reaches of the firmament, no extension off the edge of the world, into foamy droplets. Just a struggle between dreams and the hard-edged confines of reality whatever that might be. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling it already, one day dashing off to book my ticket to elsewhere, the next day, pinned to the computer, determined to finish one or six projects. I didn't get that ticket by the way. First of all I wasn't able to book it online, then when I tried to do on the phone and in person, the people said they couldn't do it either. I admitted defeat. Today anyway. Tomorrow – who knows? Things are very changeable. Firm decisions made one day tend to unravel in the night.
I dream of being asked to write an astro-gossip column. And that my friend T finds a path at the bottom of the garden, that leads to a village. I want to find that walk. This reminds me of Cubertou, where I was last summer, where there really were walks from the bottom of the garden, to a nearby village. I also dream of falling from a great height [though I don't hurt myself] onto an earth level and then discover openings, passageways and new entrances to my house, none of which I'd noticed before. The morning after that dream my house goes on fire, it really does. As I speed downstairs to get pots of water to hurl on the flames, I think, this can't be real, this must be a dream, I wish I could wake up. After the water has doused the flames, thick acrid smoke fills my upstairs study. The fax machine has melted and breathed its last. Four firemen soon tramp through my house, only 2 of them in the study as it's too small for all of them to get in. They clear away the debris, the burnt fax machine and lamp, charred papers, burnt bits of cotton tablecloth. One of them asks me if one of the pictures on my wall is of Amsterdam I say no, it's Paris, the Canal Saint Martin, and these ones are of Albania, and those over here are my children. He asks if I'm due to give a talk that week-end. I say no, thankfully. You can see how it all felt like a most strange dream, as I discuss my photography with burly men in orange uniforms who are sweeping up charred papers from the floor and fitting fire alarms. But they were ace these men, utter shining stars.
The fire was started by a joss stick which fell into the waste paper basket. Well, that was the overt cause. Me, I think the acute tension between Saturn and Uranus, with Mars fanning the flames, also had something to do with it. Causes apart, what about the meaning? I think it's saying something like – these passionate, inflammatory ideas need to be earthed, focussed, in the way that lightning conductors earth the crackly energy that's discharging across the sky. Perhaps it's pointing to newly discovered access routes, and passages, as in the dream. One thing for sure is that my study has long been overdue for a tidy and a clear out. Now, as well as that, the walls need to be cleaned and painted. And while I'm at it, I might as well scrub and varnish the floorboards. That should keep me occupied in a physical, practical way for some time.
This is Asklepios, the god of healing dreams.