I had the most extraordinary dream yesterday that I’d like to share with you. Dreams, of course, can symbolize many things, and their meaning depends on the associations and experiences unique to the dreamer. My version of this dream is titled “Pomp and Servitude.”
Pomp and Servitude
I am watching the processional taking Queen Elizabeth’s coffin from Westminster Abbey to Windsor Castle. It is a majestically choreographed event, cinematic and mythic, and I am spellbound. The carriage. The horses. The pipers. The rows upon rows of guards and royals, all stepping together in unison.
When the processional reaches Wellington Arch, her coffin, draped in flowers and the Royal Standard, and bearing the symbols of the monarchy, is transferred to a hearse to embark on the drive to Windsor Castle.
Windsor Castle: the home Queen Elizabeth loved. A place where she could ride her horses and walk with her dogs freely through the countryside, away from the spotlight and hustle and bustle of London. This is the place she has chosen as her final resting place.
Throngs of people line the streets and highways, somber and reverent as the processional approaches, then spontaneously erupting into cheers and applause as the coffin passes by. Many throw flowers onto the roadway; some land on the hearse.
The processional continues up the Long Walk, and as it approaches the castle it passes by a lone horse: Emma, the queen’s beloved pony. On her back is draped one of the queen’s headscarves.
All the while I have been lucid in the dream. I am cognizant that I am witnessing an archetypal moment in our global dream, a depiction of something stirring deep in the collective unconscious.
I have a sudden realization that the queen has died because her work is done. During her long reign she oversaw the crumbling of the idea of empire, and of patriarchy. When she ascended to the throne there were no other female heads of state, no women in centers of power. Now there are many, and they will soon become legion.
Although she was thrust into this role unexpectedly, Queen Elizabeth knew how to wear a crown. Stepping into this most patriarchal of roles, she transformed it into one of love and service for the people. She was the monarch who treated everyone she met with respect, as an equal.
I can see the role she played in the return of the Divine Feminine. She demonstrated what true power is: not power-over—which was the foundation of the patriarchal era—but the power of love and service. She also demonstrated what true service is: not obligatory servitude—which was another hallmark of the patriarchal era—but the servitude of a sovereign, freely-chosen from a position of power for the good of all.
The processional finally arrives at St. George’s Chapel. The pallbearers remove the coffin from the hearse and carry it up the steps and into the chapel, where it is placed on the platform above the vault.
The reading the queen has chosen for her committal service speaks of a new Jerusalem, a new Earth where every tear is wiped away.
As the service draws to a close, the Crown Jeweler steps forward to remove the symbols of the monarchy from her coffin: the scepter, symbol of temporal power; the orb, symbol of divine power; the crown, symbol of sovereignty.
I am deeply moved, realizing what the dream is showing me. As a woman, the time for projecting my power onto another is over. There will be no more queens in my lifetime, because I no longer need one. The crown is mine. It is all of ours.
As the words of committal are spoken and the queen’s coffin is lowered into the vault, I know without a doubt that the Feminine has risen. She has risen indeed.
The queen’s piper begins to play for her one last time. Then, turning, he walks away, the music growing fainter and fainter and fainter.
Then the pipe organ begins to play, and the congregation joins in singing, “God Save the King.” Charles listens, teary-eyed and somber. During his coronation the crown that now sits on the altar will be placed on his head. But it is different now. It has been forever changed by the reign of his Mother.
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Dear Patricia;
Bravo, you have given voice to during a sensitive time.
I too watched much of the service during the day. To me, the Queen was exemplar of one who bears the mantle that is foisted upon unlikely shoulders, how to bear it depends on who one knows themself to belong to.
The funeral service itself was bursting with scripture and hymns and rites of passage, an honorable Protestant celebration. I will revisit it for certain.
Thank you so much Patricia, please write more!
Thank you Patricia, Queen Elizabeth was indeed a soul who embodied Honour, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, dignity, strength and duty to others…it appeared that she waited until she had fulfilled what was to be her last official duty…releasing the former prime minister and welcoming a new female prime minister only 48 hours before. It felt that at last she can rest…( and I am so glad her beloved horse and dogs were there to meet her arrival at Windsor)
What a beautiful message Patricia! Thank you for sharing this images as we all welcome and embrace the rising of the Femenine.
Thank you Patricia for articulating so beautifully what I watched only moments ago, the procession and service at Windsor. Her life and reign, and now these beautiful final events, have crowned the Divine Feminine on earth. She is saying to All of us: Fare ye well. And we shall.