In a time of intense collective dreaming, I find myself thinking lately of the Princess of Knossos, Ariadne, sleeping on the sand. Ariadne was left by Theseus when she was fast asleep on the beach on the island of Naxos. He left while she was dreaming, I’m sure, of something much different than waking up to find herself abandoned by the one she had trusted, the one she had helped, the one she had loved.

Ariadne woke on the beach on Naxos to find herself strangely alone. The water gently lapped at the shore as she rubbed her eyes and looked and looked again. But there was not a ship, nor a man, in sight, and when she felt the indent where Theseus’ body had been, the sand was cold.

She spends hours walking the island that day, trying to figure out how she must be wrong. They’ll be back. He wouldn’t do this. She even dances the enchanting spiralic dances of her home island, toes in the sand, trying to find her way back to center, and, though she does not want to admit it to herself, to try to call him back. What she eventually finds is a difficult truth: she has been disregarded, somehow thrown over. The man she betrayed her own father to help, he has left her. She is alone.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash — Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

That night as she lay down on the sand, she wraps her cloak tightly around her. It is embroidered with snakes and flowers and spirals, and still smells faintly of the incense of the great hall of Knossos. She inhales deeply before gathering her hair and curling up on herself, listening to the waves as she cries herself into dreaming.

In her dreaming she sees the image of her dead half-brother, the Minotaur. He is being killed by Theseus. She is horrified by his face as his dies. She clings to Theseus but feels only coldness and endings where there was once was warmth and holding. He disappears and she wakes up with her heart pounding and salt in her eyes.

The next night, her dreams shift, now she is on a boat with the Athenians destined for death in the Labyrinth. They are crying, holding each other close, fingering household gods and singing the songs of their homeland. She is supposed to be helping them but does not know how. She keeps looking for the key to a box that she knows has the answer.

Then, under a full moon, she is underwater, bodies and bones are piling up, clattering together in the undulations of the water, creating a trap from which she cannot escape.

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Then one morning Ariadne wakes up. She is still alone. She is still terrified. Her heart feels bloodied by her dreams. But the sun is warming the beach as she finds her feet and plants them in the sand, as she breathes and reaches her arms wide and then surprises herself by screaming as loudly as she can. It feels good. She does it again. She shakes her fists and draws the power of the snake up from the Earth and into her body. Her righteous cries are heard only by the Gods and the birds in the trees who stop their morning song to listen.

She drops to her knees and wails. She wails and pounds the sand until her arms are red and aching. Then, after a time, she sleeps again. In her dreams a white bird comes to teach her a new dance. The bird shows her how flying is dancing, and how wings can be feet. Ariadne awakens to the sound of a voice calling her. It is her friend Daedalus, he is reassuring her, reminding her of something. When she opens her eyes, the beach is empty and she is still alone, but in her heart is a new and ancient song. She listens and begin to dance, her arms reaching for the sky, finding their way into something new, emerging, at last.

She is still uncertain. She does not know that the Gods hear her and see her and that soon her life will change. She does not know that in reaching for herself she has reached for them and that they will answer.

Her night dreams settle as she begins to live on the island, waiting for something, she does not know what. Her night dreams settle as she dances and believes in her heart and lets her body tell the story of her suffering. And gradually, gradually, she feels a lifting of something, something that she had not known she was carrying, and in her dreams appear babies being nursed and animals full of wild power and passion and eyes that stare.

Soon, Ariadne’s life will change, but she doesn’t know that yet. In the meantime, she does what she can: she dances, she screams, she sings, she swims in the clear salty waters of the great white sea. And she remembers what it is that Daedalus was saying to her, something about the future belonging to those who believe in the power of their dreams.