I am standing uphill from a mid-mountain après ski hut, overlooking a small town that reminds me of Park City, UT. Behind me the mountain slope quickly steepens, and I head up on foot (!) for a ski run. The snow on the mountain side is thin and even bare in spots, so the staff is preparing to make more snow for the day’s skiers.
I start up the hill (I don’t notice skis or poles at any point of this dream), and almost immediately a tall, strong young ski guide*** with thick chestnut hair appears to my left. He encourages me to keep climbing by demonstrating the use of his boots which sport some serious silver cleats. He’s digging into the rocky slope — which is now actually almost vertical — with his toes and climbing somehow… it’s as if he’s standing on just the toe cleats that he’s dug into the cliff side. It’s not hard to climb with him. There’s no strain, despite the angle and the rocky terrain.
But then the slope evens out and the snow is much deeper — mounded up as if by plows or shovels. It is pristine, and deserted. I can’t decide which way to go (though I’m still not wearing skis), until I notice a gentle gully-path leading down through the thick snow toward the après ski hut.
As I start to slide down the path, from out of nowhere people appear in my way. Some stand, some kneel in the snow, some are off to the side and and yet others stand in the path itself. I slide through their midst and realize that they’re all making Tarot cards. Sheets of paper are scattered across the snow, and people are cutting cards, coloring, painting, and otherwise decorating the small rectangles. One woman pulls back across the path a moment before I slide into her. Three identical cards depicting a solitary figure in red robes are pressed into the snow where she had just been kneeling, but I slide over them and continue on to the ski hut.
The next thing I remember is being inside the lodge (another building?). I’ve just descended a well-lit staircase and walk towards glass walls through which I can see a basement library. It’s dark and clearly closed to visitors. Someone else is with me (no idea who, but there’s no sense of urgency or any emotion), and we enter the library. Since we’re not supposed to be there, we duck under a row of long tables and bookcases leading through the shadows and into the far end of the room. My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I see countless others under the tables — moving, running around, jostling for place, all making their way into the shadows toward the end of the room. Librarians or security guards patrol the room’s perimeter, so we stay hunkered down and make our way with the rest.
Next: my dream interpretation…
*** The ski guide? Yeah… he’s the same one from my dream about counseling with discarnates. I thought that was pretty nifty, too.