I'm drawn right now to talk about dreams. For me personally, it's a subject that has garnered much attention over the years, but I finally feel like writing about the dreamworld and my experiences within that mystical, magical place.
The first dream I can recall happened when I was three years old. I dreamed that a rather large lion was trying to get in my bedroom window. Frightened, I can remember running out into the living room and into the arms of my mother, who comforted me and told me that it was just a dream and there was nothing to be afraid of. Because after all, she said, that lion wasn't real.
The years went on and I would continue to be what I always described as a "very vivid dreamer". I can remember on many occasion, recounting a dream to a friend in such layered detail that I would watch their face change, thus knowing that perhaps not everyone had dreams quite like this.
But everything would change in my dreamworld shortly after I was attuned to the energies of Reiki. Sure my dreams were still as vivid as always and could be recounted in great detail, but quite suddenly, I began dreaming precognitively. I remember this variety of dreams starting out rather small and benign- for instance, I would dream of a colleague experiencing something in the workplace, only to have it play out in real life a couple of days later. The first time this happened, I was really freaked out! And then, it happened again and again until I found myself seeing the future in my dreams on a much larger scale. I saw several plane crashes and other negative world events in my dreams before they came to pass. I grew to be able to discern between a regular dream and a precognitive one, largely based on a feeling I would get or sometimes by certain symbols or "markers" in the dream.
It was difficult being the dreamer of such precognitive visions because what I was being shown of the future was scary and very negative. For a long time, I felt helpless because I was unable to change the outcome of these events and so I couldn't figure out why I was being shown them in the first place. They plagued me to some degree until all I could think to do was send loving energy to the future event, in some desperate hope that I could somehow change things for the better (although this never seemed to happen- at least as far as I could tell).
Pretty soon, I realized that I should be writing my dreams down. I had heard of dream journaling before, but it was not something I had ever bothered with. At the suggestion of a few people I had shared my dreams with, I began to record them and I am so glad I did (which I'll discuss a bit more later on). Side tip: I really find it helpful to give each dream a title that encapsulates the dream. This makes it easier if you ever want to go back through your journals and find a particular dream.
Around this same time, I also began to experience the arrival of various Indigenous people, messages and symbols in my dreams. These came in the form of messengers from the animal kingdom and human Indigenous teachers and healers who would graciously show me things. I came to look up the meanings of these various animal messengers or totems as I eventually realized they were appearing to me to teach me about myself and the things that were going on in my life. They are extraordinary teachers! I can remember about a week before receiving my spirit name of Blue
Turtle Woman from my Elder, I dreamed I was standing in a forest watching
hundreds of turtles flying in the sky overhead. I will always be indebted to the various Indigenous Elders and Medicine people who have come to me and continue to come to me in my dreams. They show me so much and for this I am very, very grateful.
Another such messenger dream I called "Mountaintop Shaman" and in it, I found myself taking a workshop of some sort high on a mountaintop. One day, a group of us went outside to sit atop the mountain and enjoy the view of the whole range. Suddenly, I saw a black animal that looked like a fisher or a wolverine, perched atop a nearby mountain peak. I shouted "Look at that animal!". Then it came toward us because there was a little bird on a branch near us and I saw this animal wanted to get the bird. Then, we were all at the bottom of the mountain at a beach area and an Indigenous man was talking to us about the animal. Afterwards, a second older Indigenous man came up to me and said that he felt the
animal was actually a shaman. He smiled, looked deep into my eyes and
repeated: "It was a shaman". I smiled back and agreed with him.
Despite the evidence that I had tapped into something much greater than myself and that I was being shown many things, much of it was difficult for me to accept and I remember going through periods of feeling undeserving of such immense gifts from Spirit. Why me? Shouldn't this be happening to someone more qualified? Someone more spiritual? I spent a lot of time trying to figure it all out in my head, rather than welcoming it fully into my heart with no guilty attachments.
It wasn't long before I began to read everything I could get my hands on about dreams and soon I discovered the world of lucid dreaming. It's only been a handful of times that I have achieved lucidity in my dreams, but every time it happens, I am excited because as I once read: "If you can change your dreams, you can change your life". Overcoming fears in a very intentional, conscious way in dreams for example can help you overcome fears in waking life as well. Plus, when in a lucid dream state we can do other things, like ask specific questions about things that are important to us and in turn receive the answers.
Soon, I realized that I was doing healing work of my own in the dreamworld, as I slowly seemed to be making my way in and out of those mysterious realms. I would dream that I was facilitating healing for people or showing up to accident or disaster scenes and helping out. And then I realized, with some reservation (!), that I was also escorting people who had passed away to the "other side". I can remember my first attempt at this: I dreamed I was watching a crow flying in the sky carrying the body of a man in its clutches. Suddenly a voice announced to me that I needed to fly up there with the crow and assist. So I found myself flying up and then I was the crow and I could feel the weight of this man in my clutches. Somehow I knew he weighed "170 lbs" and I was trying so hard to keep hold of him as I flew through the air. Just then, I saw a person down below preparing a plot of land for this man's burial. I knew that I was to drop him precisely into that plot. But, I was growing very weary and I knew I couldn't hold him much longer. And suddenly, I began to throw up all over the place and a very sympathetic voice said "I know, this is really difficult to do". I then found myself in a mall and someone handed me a picture frame that read "Dreaming" and the word "Spiritwalker" on the top.
I also began communicating in my dreams with loved ones who had passed. Often this was done via an old fashioned black telephone and other times I would see the person and simply know that they were in spirit form and were coming to tell me they were alright. This was very comforting and sometimes if I felt brave enough, I would share it with other family members hoping to bring them peace and comfort too.
Just recently, after a discussion I had this summer with a curandero from Peru (another story for another time!) I felt the urge to dig out all my dream journals and read them cover to cover (something I had never done before). Wow. What incredible insight I gleaned into myself- the patterns, messages, themes and teachings over the years all laid out for me to learn from. I uncovered both mysteries and answers all within the pages of my own dream recordings. What a gift!
I continue to give thanks to the Spiritworld for the guidance I receive in this magical way- often offering tobacco just in my backyard to the specific animal or person who offered me a teaching. And I continue to try to find my way in the mysterious dream realms while at the same time trying to figure out if they are a world that I need to become more consciously aware of navigating. Will this skill come to me naturally over time or do I need specific instruction? I remember once reading about a Native man who was specifically trying to find his late father in the dreamworld. For some reason, this always stayed with me as a possibility. A possibility so mysterious and intriguing, but a possibility nonetheless.
This summer, I had a dream that contained the message: "Fly with the Thunderbirds", and I think I will do just that. With gratitude and humility on this lifelong journey.
Thank you/Meegwetch.
Shannon
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
The life & times of a stepmom and her little teacher
My city was covered with a heavy blanket of snow today.
While many of my adult counterparts were probably heading home tonight after work to sit by a fire and have a glass of wine, I was heading to the park to play with my stepson. Snow pants and all, we trudged across snow-packed sidewalks, crazy carpets in hand and smiles on our faces.
If you don't live in a snowy climate, you might not realize that there is very often a silent, surreal feeling after a huge snowfall. While part of you (the very adult part) might be lamenting the driving and the shoveling, there is this other part of you (the inner child part) that is in awe of the snow-covered tree branches, the heights of the snow banks and the thought of tobogganing.
Ryan and I arrived at the park entrance, both totally giggling and our mouths dropped open at the sight of the snowfall that covered the benches and the play structures. No one else was there (which is our absolute favourite- those few times when we get the whole park to ourselves) and that serene, surreal feeling was in the air. We crazy carpeted our way down any mounds we could find, made snow angels, ate snow, took turns burying each other in it (and then "busting out", as Ryan called it), sat down in a variety of hilarious ways in the deep snow on the benches and trudged our way around the whole park. In our imaginations, we were on a trek to the South Pole, we were climbing Mount Everest and we were spies on a covert winter mission.
I love Ryan for his ability to show me how to be a kid again. And he doesn't even bat an eye when I feel like getting particularly goofy (thank you, Ryan). It's absolute fuel for the soul and if you haven't gone out to play in the snow with a kid lately, I encourage you to do so as soon as you can.
As twilight fell upon the park, we both noticed that the sky was turning a stunning, albeit slightly ominous, dark purple colour. The wind started to pick up, blowing snow right at us, much to our shrieking delight and we decided it was time to call it a night. We left the park, thanking both it and the winter for such a good time and trudged on home.
And as we entered the house, Ryan turned to me and said "Well, that was an awesome time at the park!". I couldn't agree more, little teacher. I couldn't agree more.
While many of my adult counterparts were probably heading home tonight after work to sit by a fire and have a glass of wine, I was heading to the park to play with my stepson. Snow pants and all, we trudged across snow-packed sidewalks, crazy carpets in hand and smiles on our faces.
If you don't live in a snowy climate, you might not realize that there is very often a silent, surreal feeling after a huge snowfall. While part of you (the very adult part) might be lamenting the driving and the shoveling, there is this other part of you (the inner child part) that is in awe of the snow-covered tree branches, the heights of the snow banks and the thought of tobogganing.
Ryan and I arrived at the park entrance, both totally giggling and our mouths dropped open at the sight of the snowfall that covered the benches and the play structures. No one else was there (which is our absolute favourite- those few times when we get the whole park to ourselves) and that serene, surreal feeling was in the air. We crazy carpeted our way down any mounds we could find, made snow angels, ate snow, took turns burying each other in it (and then "busting out", as Ryan called it), sat down in a variety of hilarious ways in the deep snow on the benches and trudged our way around the whole park. In our imaginations, we were on a trek to the South Pole, we were climbing Mount Everest and we were spies on a covert winter mission.
I love Ryan for his ability to show me how to be a kid again. And he doesn't even bat an eye when I feel like getting particularly goofy (thank you, Ryan). It's absolute fuel for the soul and if you haven't gone out to play in the snow with a kid lately, I encourage you to do so as soon as you can.
As twilight fell upon the park, we both noticed that the sky was turning a stunning, albeit slightly ominous, dark purple colour. The wind started to pick up, blowing snow right at us, much to our shrieking delight and we decided it was time to call it a night. We left the park, thanking both it and the winter for such a good time and trudged on home.
And as we entered the house, Ryan turned to me and said "Well, that was an awesome time at the park!". I couldn't agree more, little teacher. I couldn't agree more.
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