I’ve always had vivid dreams. I used to keep a dream journal, as they made for great stories – I’ve dreamt entire Doctor Who episodes (to my intense frustration upon waking to find that I can’t rewind and watch them again).
But lucid dreaming is a different matter. When you become self-aware in the dream, and can affect matters. Or when it just seems a little more real than usual.
Last night, I dreamt about a family funeral that I’d attended – only it wasn’t quite right. Instead of a crematorium, we were at a graveside, that sort of thing. It felt real, but I was aware that something was not quite right.
I think it was a method for getting me into that situation, in readiness for a ‘hello’. Because the ancestor whose funeral it was decided to pay me a visit.
I’d known her in life, but never as young as she appeared (roughly my own age now). I was greeted with a huge smile and wrapped in a big hug, told it’ll be all right. She was so glad to see me, and the feeling was mutual – I was overwhelmed.
We didn’t have long, though. I soon woke up naturally, with happy tears in my eyes. This may have been in the dream-time, but it was very real.
Since the eclipse, something has shifted. I’ve felt connectivity with spirit returning at a deep level, and despite yesterday’s awfulness, I can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of mustering of my forces to overcome the negative… and my Black Dog knows it (hence the bad knocks lately).
I honour my ancestors, known and unknown. I’d rather not share a picture of this lady, but I have a momento from her on the house altar. She’s one of the kind folk who taught me to knit. She is remembered every day. And I know I am not alone.