Serpent Digestion

{an old dream}

Vibrant dream journeys revealed somewhere in time. In a spirited eco-mythological web, one never dreams alone, and dreams are not just ours; I offer them here as they were offered to me.

{the situation}

When I was three, I lived with my grandparents in their house in the Alentejo, southern Portugal. It was an old house, dark and dense—labyrinthine and full of shadows. Old, dusty and heavy furniture and fabrics occupied the spaces sealed off by dark green wallpaper, half velvety, half iridescent. Most rooms didn't even have windows, and the dim light came in indirectly through the small inner atrium. Here, traditional homes have fewer windows because of the scorching and dry heat in summer and freezing winters. The light-brown carpet, stained and scratched by use, occupied every space except the kitchen and bathrooms. The dark brown, yellow or black and white tiles had organic designs from which monsters escaped from, like black ink blots on paper. Delineations that, like clouds, aggregated and dispersed moving shapes. I would stare at them for hours, watching their stories transform through my imagination. Next to these tiles, in the kitchen, were the wooden stairs to the basement, covered in the same old stained carpet.

The basement was the deepest and darkest room in the house; paradoxically, it was also where the street door was. We continuously passed through a tiny corridor in the basement, connecting the entrance to the stairs to the kitchen—me always running, full of fear of all that slimy darkness. Onions, garlic, wine, and large metal jars with olive oil were kept in the damp, pitch-black part of the cellar. The olive oil smell filled my nostrils whenever I accompanied an adult downstairs. The small lamp, with its bare, tangled wire from the ceiling, had a weak, flickering, yellow light, never illuminating the corners of this lair. As I stood there clutching someone's skirt, not wanting to look around, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, in a mixture of curiosity and fear. My body preparing to flee up the stairs to the comfort of the kitchen.

Many years later, I returned to this place in my dreams. My grandparents had both passed away, and the house had been sold years before. I never returned. But the place remained imprinted on me. My vivid imagination took me there, or the place drawn me in, onde again...

{the dream}

I found myself in a three-year-old body, with small, tiny hands, in the kitchen, sitting on the threshold, looking at the tiles on the floor. Someone calls my name from downstairs. A voice that's warm and cold at the same time. Disconcerting. A deep voice sounding familiar but unrecognizable. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The voice keeps calling me, and I know I need to follow it. But I don't want to. The stairs are dark, but I can still see the old stains on the carpet on the first few steps, which comforts me. I know where I am, after all. Slowly, terrified, I descend step by step. I've never been down to the basement without an adult before.

I slowly plunge into the dark abyss, following the voice that knows my name. Once there, I see that the flickering light is on, but it doesn't illuminate anything beyond the bulb. The dark envelops me, and so does fear. I stumble upon the black figures of the large metal olive oil jars, and the pungent smell invades my body. Right behind the jars are two huge green eyes gleaming in the dark. They smile when they see me. Perhaps it's a malicious or welcoming smile, but I can't tell because of fear freezing me. These mischievous, iridescent eyes whisper: come, come closer.

Suddenly, the outline of an enormous Black Serpent emerges from the impenetrable shadows. A massive, vast body, now occupying the entire room, rises high above my head. In one swift movement, she brings her open mouth down on me and swallows me whole. Her mighty jaw gobbles me entirely, abruptly bringing me inside her body. Voracious and complete. Surprise and amazement overtake fear. With my three-year-old body, I find myself inside the great Serpent, which slowly digests and consumes me. Her body contorts and compresses me, squeezes and crushes. I don’t know who absorbs who. I feel strangely welcomed, oddly embraced, and safe in this archetypal and alchemical digestion. Fear disappears once I'm back in the fertile womb. Assimilation. Incorporation. Integration. In the belly of the great Black Serpent, I am in the primordial heart and at home.

When she spits me out, I wake up.