Category Archives: Pagan Dreams
I sit and stare at the wall, remembering what it felt like to feel imprisoned by invisible chains. My wrists still chafe from the friction of my bonds. A jailer with a black heart watching my suffering in silence.
Even now, my freedom seems surreal, even though my heart still bears the proof of scars to show that my debt has been paid.
A debt we created, but I never understood. A price left to me alone to pay. A price I’ve paid many nights over as I lay soaked in the sweat of my fears, useless tears streaming from eyes that could no longer see beyond the blackness of my prison.
My chest aches at the memory of nights spent curled on the floor beating my rage and helplessness with clenched fists, unable to move, afraid to breathe.
I pull myself from those memories, reminding myself that that life is no longer mine. Shaking myself like a rag doll to clear away the last of the visions burned into my heart.
I stand alone on the porch, eyes searching for the water just out of reach and have to pull myself back from the beating of yet more memories that found an end to the pain in those murky depths. The siren call of false freedom.
A raven calls in the distance and I know my Goddess is not yet done with me. I am reminded that service to my Goddess is never an easy path. I knew this years ago when I tried to deny Her call. She is well known for tearing down her followers to rebuild them in whatever way pleases Her.
The wind lifts my hair from my face as I unconsciously rub my writs, a habit I picked up somewhere over the years without realizing it. This time, I’m reminded of my freedom as my fingers glide over flesh, feeling for bonds that I could never touch but could feel with my heart.
In this moment, I find an imperfect perfection and I can feel the stirrings of wings upon my back. A raven circles and calls me to flight, offering another kind of freedom.
The first real smile in years lifts the corner of my mouth, transforming me into a semblance of someone I used to know. A reflection that rippled and changed until I didn’t know myself anymore now smooths and shows me with clarity how much the years have changed me.
As I look deeper, I see the woman life never gave me the chance to be standing side by side with the woman I became. As I watch, the surface shimmers again and the two women begin a dance like flames in a fire. Twisting and curling, bending into and out of each other, dancing away and then back.
I know that the Goddess is offering me a gift through the sight of the raven. This is my next challenge. No rest for the weary or the wicked, and I am both. I am to cross the distance between who I thought I was and who I am and make my peace with both so that my vision can dance into a single burning flame that flares in the darkness, lighting my way.
My last challenge was to walk alone in the darkness. This challenge will create the light that was lacking to illuminate my path. I know that this will be another long, hard road paved with sweat and sacrifice. My only tools are the lessons I have learned during my last ordeal and the visions the Goddess chooses to show me.
With a deep breath, I lift the hem of my skirts, cast a nod to the raven that swoops to light on my shoulder and take the first step on the path my Goddess had chosen for me.
*Author’s Note: I promised a few people recently that I would let my true voice be heard. This is it. This is me. These are the words that burn in my head begging for a release I’ve denied them.
Once I wrote a piece for the original PoM site about the ending of my first marriage. Anyone that read that piece might hear the similarity of the voice it was written in.
I am an almost morbid person and much of my writing is done from places of pain. Phoenix writing, if you will. My words often rise from the ashes of my soul.
At any rate, this is me, laid bare for the world to see.
Today’s card caught me off guard, considering everything that’s been happening. There have been a few things going on behind the scenes here, that I have intentionally not mentioned. Today was the day I had planned to mention some of it anyway, and I get this card:
The Six of Cups. It means joy. Usually revisiting something that we know made us happy. This plays right into what has been going on.
|Herbal Tarot by Michael Tierra|
Everyone knows that Draco and I have enjoyed our time with L and Little Diva. L is a wonderful friend, and as far as living with other people go, I couldn’t have asked for a much better situation than what we’ve had here. It’s absolutely been a far cry from what we went through staying with my parents during my Mom’s illness where I felt that I was a constant target for someone.
Time moves on, though, and Draco and I are becoming an “older couple”. Life is forcing me to accept the onset of my Crone phase, and I’m finally beginning to do it gracefully, but as time moves on, situations, needs and wants change.
Draco and I have not had our own place in something like 3 years now.
We gave up our last place to go stay with my family to try to help out when Mom had her heart attack and then she got sick and we haven’t had our own place since.
It’s time. Really it’s beyond time.
It just so happens that Mini-Me is looking to change her living situation as well. She’s had a small, 1 bedroom apartment, fully furnished, right down the road from us, and she’s looking at something closer to the heart of town, and closer to her friends. She’s been trying to move for about a month now and hasn’t been able to pull together the resources to do it. She even has a roommate lined up to help her with the bills. I’m happy for her, but it got me to thinking about the apartment she would be leaving behind.
It is rather small, but Draco is gone most of the week and during that time, it’s just Dutchess and I. My body has moved into the Crone phase ahead of the rest of me, and it’s harder for me to do extensive housework than it used to be. I don’t want a lot that I have to clean.
Also, I’m becoming something of a minimalist. I would rather be surrounded by the things that I love, that bring me joy and make me smile, than to have a ton of stuff I don’t care about.
Add to that, I’ve been having some odd dreams about a cottage-type setting. It was small, cozy, rustic…and honestly, I think with some TLC and the right witch’s decorative hand, that little apartment could be awfully close to what I’ve been dreaming.
I feel that the Goddess and God have spoken to me on this and that this is the right direction to move in, or to at least try.
Because of Mini-Me’s financial situation, it may be a little bit tricky, but we intend to try.
Our obligations to L hold us here through the end of the month, but after that, we will be able to do whatever we want to do. We will be focusing the next few weeks on helping Mini-Me prepare for the move as well as trying to prepare ourselves.
I have to say that although it will be an adjustment to be on our own again after all this time, and I will miss L and Little Diva terribly, I am excited and looking forward to this next Phase in life. I will try to be around as much as possible and keep the updates flowing. Wish us luck!
The house was dim, like someone had forgotten to turn on a light on an overcast day. Obviously, it was time to move again. Boxes lined every visible wall and seemed to reach for the ceiling in the gloom.
Faint shuffling noises emanated from the direction of the kitchen and I turned and headed in that direction.
There was Mom and Dad, pulling boxes from a corner and shifting them in the direction of the doorway.
I approached them and held out my hands for the first of the boxes, passing them to Draco. It struck me as odd that he would be there. I knew somewhere deep inside that this was a dream. A familiar dream. An echo of a memory stirred somewhere in the back of my mind and I knew that something had changed, although the feeling of familiarity held.
Then I saw it. It was the box of nightmares past.
I had dreamed of this box since my teenage years, and never quite understood why. I knew enough to know that I feared this box on some deeply rooted level that I couldn’t explain.
Mom calmly pulled the box from the corner and passed it to Dad, along with a look I couldn’t define. I realized then that Mom should not be in this dream. Mom was gone. Almost 2 months now. Was she now haunting my dreams?
Dad took the box and sat it on the freezer at his side and avoided meeting my gaze. This was odd because in dreams past, the box had been kept from me. I had experienced being in it’s presence, but had never touched it. One of my parents, generally my mother, had always taken the box away almost immediately, like something being hidden from me.
I reminded myself that I was an adult, not a frightened child, and willed myself to reach for the box. Still, my hands would not move. I stood, rooted to the spot and stared at the box, trying to remember why I should be so frightened of a silly box. I could feel everyone watching me without looking directly at me.
The box was the same as I remembered, but was showing the signs of age. A darker brown, dog-eared flaps crisscrossed the top. It seemed to bulge a little at the top where the flaps didn’t quite make a complete closure, as if something had repeatedly pushed against the top from the inside or it held something that didn’t quite fit.
I felt Draco looking at me with curiosity, somehow sensing my hesitation.
Finally, I held hands that trembled out towards this seemingly innocent package. I picked up the box with determination and turned and headed towards the door instead of passing it to Draco as I had the others. I could feel his presence behind me and knew he wanted a private moment to ask about the contents of the box. I wanted a private moment with this box. I wanted to know what the box held that had been kept from me all these years, but at the same time, I was afraid of finding out what was inside.
As I crossed the living room, I could feel the box tremble in my hands. I tried to tell myself that it was me that was shaking, and I was, but I knew that the box was vibrating of it’s own accord as well, like it knew that I was the one that held it. It only ever seemed to react this way in my presence.
Without warning, the sounds began. The growling of a trapped animal. The box somehow knew that I held it.
It was then that I realized that it wasn’t the box I feared, but what was inside. Memories flooded my senses as I remembered fragments of other dreams in which this box had made an appearance. In my mind’s eye, I could see the tiny eyes peering out of the space in the top of the box where the flaps didn’t quite meet. A flash of some kind of fur…
I nearly dropped the box and headed for the door, but somehow I felt that this box and it’s contents were mine although I couldn’t say what or how.
Instead, I turned the corner and headed into my parent’s bedroom and set the box on the first empty surface I came to. I took a step back involuntarily and stared at it.
As Draco came along-side of me, the box began to shake violently and I knew that whatever was in it wanted release. I felt a moment of compassion for what was trapped inside, along with a kinship I couldn’t explain. I thought about throwing caution to the wind and releasing the flaps, allowing freedom to the thing trapped inside but something stopped me.
As I watched, a little furry head forced its way through the opening in the top and it looked at me with curiosity as if it were just as curious about me as I was about it. Somehow it didn’t look as frightening as I had thought it would and I felt that pang of sympathy, once again, for something trapped inside a prison defined by others. Caged for what it was.
It looked like it should have been a dog of some sort, but somehow, it wasn’t. I knew all too well how it felt to know that you should be something you weren’t and to be hated for it. I knew from years spent in my room, what it felt like be locked away like a dirty secret.
It was then that I realized that this box, and the creature in it, represented me and my feelings about my place in my family. The place where my mother had put me. In my room, a figurative box. A prison with a view of a world I was told I would never fit into. I could see the outside, but I couldn’t be part of it because something about me was different.
As I looked this creature in the eye, I knew that it was a part of me. It was all the parts of me that I tried to hide from the world in an effort to fit in. It was a representation of everything about me that had ever been “different”.
As the first tear slid down my face, I reached for the box once again, this time without fear or hesitation, but with compassion and understanding. I pulled the tiny creature from the box and embraced it and felt whole for the first time in my life.
*Author’s Note: I have had variations of this dream since I was about 14. Roughly 2 years after going to live with my Mom. I believe in my heart that my Mom somehow attempted to return to me something we both felt she had taken from me in this dream, and for that, I am grateful. This is the first time I have dreamed of my mother since her passing on June 13th of this year.
It should also be known that I have always been a vivid dreamer, and I have found that more often than not, my dreams hold meaning either for me or for someone in my life. I don’t always know what they mean, and in this case, it has taken me over 20 years to finally understand the meaning. I have never written about my dreams before beyond private journals, but I’m finding that I like it and I will most likely start writing about them here.
I could smell the damp, earthy scent of the bark on the trees. The rich black soil beneath my feet was like a sponge as I ran, absorbing the sounds of my footsteps. My breathing came fast and hard like I was being chased by the long-ago boogie-man of childhood.
I ran alone. Searching for something…some place. I knew I should know the way, but I had forgotten, the memory only a faint whisper in my mind’s eye. Panic begins to set in. I realize I’m becoming more and more hopelessly lost with every step. My mind screams at me to stop and take stock of my surroundings. Make an effort at getting my bearings, but my heart pushes me onward.
I need to find this place. This place out of time that was once mine and mine alone. I need the embrace of knowing I am exactly where I belong, like coming home.
It was getting darker and darker, like ink spilled on paper, reaching out to absorb it’s surroundings in an attempt to consume it all.
Night sounds come alive in the ink blot running hard on my heels. I know that I should not be afraid, but the fear licks at the corners of my mind like the flames of a bale-fire.
As the darkness reaches for me, I begin to see little flickers of light. I chase after them, feeling a deep-rooted rejection as they outpace my frantic feet. Somewhere deep in my heart, I feel a kinship with these lights. I know that if I can just keep up, I will find what I’m looking for.
The panic reaches deeper into my soul and I can feel the hot streaks marking the tears on my face, I can taste the salt of my fears.
Hopelessness consumes me. I can feel myself giving up the fight. I just want to feel safe and I begin to realize that I will not reach my destination this night.
My steps falter and I realize that one of the lights has slowed it’s pace to match mine. Then, it too, falters and circles back. As I slow, I realize the sound that I thought was the displaced air rushing past my ears is actually a whisper. I strain to hear, knowing I should be able to understand.
As I focus on the sound, the light takes shape and I see the tiny wings, the little face that seems to glow from within is before me. The whispered sounds take form, just as the light had taken form…my heart breaks as I hear her words and I close my eyes…
You have been gone too long….
I open my eyes to the sun beginning to peek through the curtains of a familiar room and I realize that I am once again in my bed. My faithful companion of this world, curled and sleeping at my side.
A feeling of loss consumes me and I know that I will not reach my destination this night.