Entering Pisces: Dreaming of Kurt Cobain

A preamble of sorts: I am a midwave Gen-Xer, i.e., born midway between Douglas Coupland and Claire Danes. Nirvana meant nada to me till after Kurt Cobain died and MTV released Nirvana's Unplugged in New York album; Nevermind and In Utero were released when I was too busy grooving on the likes of Janis, Jimi, the Doors, and the Dead to identify with the indie-rock Lollapaloozians. Kurt Cobain was born on February 20, 1967 -- a Pisces with a Cancer Moon and, like yours truly, Pluto conjunct the Ascendant.

The dream opens with me driving around the grim roadways of Florida, near where my folks used to keep an equally grim apartment so that my dad could play tennis outdoors in the winter. In my waking life, the last time I was down there was late 1992, when I was in grad school and there was a horrible family fight that nearly ended in divorce between my parents and led to my "borrowing" the rental car to drive to the clubhouse so I could call a friend and not lose what remained of my sanity.

In the dream, the roads around the Federal Highway all look the same, but I manage to find the house of a friend, a much older woman who was surrounded by younger relatives. This friend does not really exist in real life, but she is closely based on someone I recently met who seems to be part friend, part mentor. I realize I need to catch a plane back to New York, which means I have to drive back to the apartment to pack my bags and hustle to return the rental car.

On the way (at a gas station, I think), I meet Kurt Cobain. Suddenly he is at the apartment with me, admiring the astrology poster I created for my current Sunday brunch gig at a French restaurant in Soho. He finds it interesting that I do astrology, but is mostly impressed by the artwork. I tell him about some other creative projects I'm working on and complain about the crappy Chinese tablet I ordered online but is basically worthless for my particular needs.

Next scene takes place at the departures gate at the airport. I see Kurt Cobain once again, and he walks over to continue our conversation. No one seems to recognize him. I am becoming overwhelmed by his kindness, that someone like him could enter my world and care so much about what I was doing. I fall silent. He asks me if I'm doing okay; I know he knows that I cannot believe this is really happening. So I tell him about my brush with a certain someone even more famous and even more married, a celebrity who many moons ago took me out to dinner and wanted me to be his "mistress" (true waking-life story). He laughs as if he understands there was no real attraction in that experience, only curiosity on my part.

On the plane, I feel like Richard Dreyfuss in the last scene of American Graffiti, staring out the window, exhausted but ready to fly toward his future life. I am in the first row of economy class, and I can see the top of Kurt Cobain's bright blond head in the last row of first class. Suddenly, someone on the plane realizes who is flying in their midst, and spreads the word, and a frenzied crowded rushes for him, screaming his name. Some guy waves around a Polaroid he'd just snapped of Kurt Cobain, overexposed with half of his face cut off and one red eye. I scoff, "So you have a photo of him? Big deal. I had an actual conversation with him."

When the plane lands, I walk past Kurt Cobain's empty seat and see all this stuff left behind. A young male flight attendant materializes and announces that it's all stuff for me. There is a tablet, also a manila envelope containing a letter and a song written for me "and 1 other person." I cannot re-create the song's lyrics; even in the dream, the words were blurry. The letter urges me to "keep on trying, and if it doesn't work out, you can always join me on tour in '94."

What year am I in here? There's the dream tablet acting as a reminder that it's 2016 -- but in my waking life, I often perambulate into the past. This past Sunday morning as I walked from the Broadway-Lafayette subway station to the restaurant in Soho where I have my brunch-time astrology gig, the streets were mostly empty...and even though so many of the stores were different, I felt as though I was walking into my past on Prince Street 30 years ago, when I was a moody teenager dreaming of becoming an artist and living in a loft in Soho.

Does Kurt Cobain know that he is dead? Is Kurt Cobain really dead if he is still being conjured up by so many living souls and recognized on an airplane? One water sign infiltrates another water sign's dreams as easy as pie to offer up reassurance, a song with blurred lyrics, and a possible future adventure with him in case I try but fail.

Dreams are the ultimate symbol of Pisces: effortless creativity, a movie filled with symbols that only the dreamer can truly interpret. Many people forget their dreams when the alarm intrudes into this symbolic narrative at an ungodly early hour and so-called real life begins. Others use their dreams as a compass, as inspiration, as a blog post when they do not feel like discussing the astrology of presidential candidates or yesterday's Full Moon.

"Come as you are."

Venus Conjunct Pluto: No Half Measures--Love It and Sex It to the Max

One of my favorite sayings in astrology is that planets are more powerful than signs. This is because the signs themselves are mere zones in the sky, a cosmic backdrop or wallpaper if you will, while the planets represent specific modes of energy. Any sign of the zodiac needs a planet passing through it to make that sign's energy come alive, to give form to that particular sign's expression, for better or worse.

However, I am not saying that signs have no importance to the planets passing through them. In cases where a planet is placed in a sign's rulership (e.g., Moon in Cancer), the energy can be likened to an ice cream sundae with all the fixings as opposed to a single, unadorned scoop. Conversely, if a planet is placed in a sign's detriment or fall (e.g., Mars in Libra), the energy can feel out of step or downright disconnected (in the case of Mars in Libra, the planet's MO is to take direct, aggressive action, whereas the sign can never make up its mind and desires above all else to collaborate and compromise). Yet particularly when considering a planet placed in a sign that is peregrine (i.e., neither helpful nor harmful for that planet's expression), it is very important to check if there are any aspects being made. And so we now come to a potential powerhouse of two peregrine planets approaching a conjunction in the sign of Capricorn, exact at 8:12 p.m. EST: Venus and Pluto.

Love? Sex? Is there a difference? When Venus is conjunct Pluto, it's gotta be both, and to the max. Romantic feelings must meld with hot action. Right now, having a special feeling in your heart just ain't enough, and neither is merely getting off. Never mind that this conjunction is placed in Capricorn, a sign whose reserve and repression often gets in the way of its earthy sensuality; in this instance, Venus in icy Capricorn melts in the passionate, life-and-death, no-half-measures crucible that is Pluto.

You are either feeling more seductive and magnetic right now, plotting to ensnare someone in your sticky web of love and lust, or you are about to be clubbed over the head and hauled off to someone's cave. On the downside, if you are mentally or emotionally unbalanced, this conjunction can manifest in obsessive, overly possessive, stalker-type behavior that could end very badly. Even if you're definitely not interested in partaking of the agony and the ecstasy of love and sex at this time, if you are an artist, the Venus-Pluto conjunction should inspire great depth and drama to your particular mode of creative expression.

With the Moon in Capricorn crossing over Venus and Pluto between 1 and 1:30 a.m., this intense-with-a-capital-I conjunction will have staying power and sustained reverberation for a good five hours past the exact aspect. In other words, this ain't no quickie. Since the Moon does concern the home, as well as females, do not be surprised if under this aspect your home turns into a hotbed of sexy earth-meets-underworld goddess territory.

Now, are you ready to howl at the moon?