Yarrow (angelweed) wrote,

Calling on the lightning

My sleep schedule has been disturbed recently by a cold.  I fell asleep this evening, and awoke with the following dream:

Thrid is explaining the plan for our people to make its escape. We have been anointing the children.  Soon we will name Thrik as First and be ready.

Suddenly the enemy general is among us, and I realize that we must act now. “Thrik, you are First”, I say, and hold my hand inches away from the general’s chest as if to hold her with an energy field.  She sweeps past me to the other side of the room, away from our people and facing them, and grows more than twice my size.  I am instantly in front of her, both arms up with my palms toward her, again doing some kind of energy work. She says something I don’t now remember, cheesy movie dialog of the “What? Do you puny insects think you can defeat me?” variety.

Indeed, she is awe-inspiring, towering above me in purple and gray, with long curly gray hair and a craggy, conventionally ugly face that nevertheless achieves beauty.  I remind myself that our goal is not to defeat her but to live in peace with her.  I stretch my hand up and touch her lower belly.  I can feel her pubic hair through the cloth.  It comes to me that our plan does not go far enough, that we must have the courage not just to call on the power of [a goddess whose name in my thoughts is not a sound but an image of lightning dancing] from afar, but to call Her, to ask Her to come among us and our enemies, to accept that we and they both will be undone and remade by Her living presence.
Blessings to all on this longest night.
Tags: dreams, the sacred

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