Why Did I Dream That Dream #propheticdreams #dreams

Photo credit: Pixabay

It was probably about a week or so ago. I don’t know the exact date, because I didn’t record it. Nor do I recall all the details. What lingers, though, is the feeling along with image of the oven top. Burners lit when they should not be. Gas leaking into the air…

In case you haven’t guessed from previous posts, I am fascinated (and perhaps a bit obsessed) by dreams. I always have been. I didn’t record much in my journals as a child and teen, but for a time I recorded my dreams. They held a deep intrigue for me. Some nights they brought escapes into wondrous fairylands. Others, the haunting terror of reoccurring nightmares. And, there were the ones that came true.

Even though I was raised in a very scientific-minded household where anything that the physical eyes could not see was deemed as fanciful and untrue, I knew dreams offered a wisdom into the more hidden realms of  our being and the universe that seemed like truth even to my obedient mind.

The more I study my own dreams, the more I learn. Some of us go into deep meditative states for understanding, some of us channel the inner guide through automatic writing., or consult cards, astrologers of psychics. Or maybe we simply walk in the woods. I find each one helpful, but perhaps not so constantly helpful, as dreams.

Dreams are effortless. We close our eyes and fall into slumber, and dreams come to us without beckoning. Although we may claim we do not dream, we all do. And there are many ways to train our brains to recall our dreams if we have trouble remembering them. It’s worth looking into if you tend to wake without recollection.

When we dream, our minds unearth our deepest fears, as well as our heart’s yearnings. Through their strange language of metaphor, we can decipher a vast library of wisdom. Their code, unique to each individual.

When I dreamt the oven lit and leaking gas several nights ago, I awoke with the feeling of foreboding. I knew fear was at play, but it didn’t feel like a metaphor. It felt real.

I checked the stove throughout the day, and occasionally during the next few days when I’d recall the dream. Then, I largely forgot about it. Until today.

You could say there was nothing too unusual about this morning. My son and I left for an appointment as scheduled, and I reminded my daughter of when to leave for hers. We arrived at the office seven minutes early, and I half-noted the feeling of emptiness on our way in.

The receptionist flushed when she saw us. Stumbling over apologies, she informed us that my children’s appointments had been canceled last minute due to illness. No big deal. We rescheduled and left. For a moment, I thought about running an errand or two, but instead followed the familiar road home.

We were back at the house about a half an hour after we had left. Entering through the garage, I found myself puzzled by a strange smell. My daughter was on the couch eating her breakfast and watching a cooking show. Nothing unusual for a weekend. I greeted her, told her about the appointment reschedule, and we talked about other things as I continued to sniff the air periodically.

I decided it smelled like gas. Not the gas from engine exhaust, but it seemed to be more concentrated near the garage, so I lingered around there for a moment, then walked towards the oven. There was a small frying pan on one of the burners, leftover from my daughter’s breakfast. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. She often makes herself elaborate meals on weekends. Except there was the smell. Slightly sulfurous and overwhelming the air. My eyes left the pan and looked beneath it. No flame. They caught upon the knob below, turned a quarter to the right.

I recalled the dream nights before as I turned the knob to “off,” pushed the button overhead to fan the air outside, and opened a door and window to aid the ventilation. I sent a million silent “thank you”s to fate that the morning’s appointments had been canceled, then began a firm, but kind lecture to my daughter about minding the stove and not using that particular burner to simmer because the fame dies when it is down to low, but the gas still releases.


I dream again of flying, this time to free joy #Dreams

Photo Credit: Pixabay

On the night of Halloween, I went to sleep, once again, to fly. The dream began in a fairytale landscape inside a forest of haunting beauty. Light glowed golden upon trees dancing with vines as my footsteps led me further into the heart of the wood. There was no fear, only wonder inside of me until I reached my destination. An old victorian house turned into an inn stood in the middle of the fairy woods. I went inside and felt the golden light of the forest disappear with the closing of the door.

“Come with me,” the inner keeper urged, “I will show you to your room.” I followed with reluctance. Each room, when I peered inside, looked old and drab. The bedroom I was offered was not only filled with old things, but it was in need of a good washing. I turned down the bedclothes to show the inn keeper how dirty they were. “I cannot stay here,” I said.

So we moved on. Each room we entered was little better than the one before. “Could you stay here?” he asked of a room that was neat and tidy, but still filled with old things. “I suppose it would do,” I offered in concession.

When he left, the room still felt occupied. I noticed a man and a woman in the corner. Ghosts of the past? I could not say for sure. Except I knew they had to go. And the room, well, I was not going to allow it to contain me. Left alone, I began to fly, clearing the darkness into light with great gulps of air expelled from my lungs and out of my mouth.

And as I flew and expelled the darkness, the house began to expand and grow into an endless maze of rooms. Skipping the lower levels, I zipped up the stairway until I reached the top floor. Here I found a scene of exquisite beauty painted in a mural upon a ceiling the color of a cloudless sky. I flew with joy, following the arch of the sky-like ceiling through an ever-expanding house.

On and on I flew, until I realized they were coming for me. Fear began to creep its darkness over joy. I could hear them approaching. Their angry words filtered up the stairway ever closer in their need to capture the woman who flew when she should be walking. I had no choice but to go down. And so down I went, floor by floor.  But as I flew each level through endless rooms, I exorcised the darkness with my breath.

As my feet touched the ground floor, I realized gravity once again. Although I had evaded capture, surrounding me were the familiar markings of the mundane. All was brown and drab. Ordinary and old. My eyes searched until they found my feet upon the floor and I smiled. “Ha,” I laughed in realization. “Even here I can fly.” And so I lifted my feet and flew, once again, into joy.

Hour later, I walked into my friend Deb’s house and sat at her kitchen island with our friends, Sophia, Adrianne, and Jane. Dressed as a dragon in a purple and green onesie borrowed from my daughter, with silver fairies dangling from my ears, I was filled with a childlike giddiness. “What’s going on, Alethea?” Deb kept turning to look at me with a smile. “Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t know,” I returned her smile. “Maybe it has to do with my dream last night.”

Sometimes we heal in the day time, sometimes we heal at night. Thousands of years ago, we built temples for dreaming and inside we slept to heal our bodies, give clarity to our minds, and find a deeper understanding of the truths of our beings.

For as long as time has been recorded, poets, sages, and inventors have dreamt masterpieces while their bodies slumbered. I wonder how many people really believe that dreams are simply random, nonsensical ramblings of a mind left to wander with abandon?

Even as a young child I was fascinated with dreams. For awhile, I kept a dream journal. Sometimes I would dream an event before it would happen, and wonder how that could possibly be. There is so much more going on while we sleep than many of us realize. Although I cannot say with certainty what every dream means, nor can I recall them all in vivid detail. But, I am certain we dream with purpose. In the landscape of night we live out our fears and our joys, and sometimes we transform through them.

A month ago I felt as though I might be consumed by a fear I could not wholly define. It felt old and deeply rooted, its origins extending beyond this lifetime. The dreams of this past week have felt healing and transformative. There now exists inside of me a core of strength in the place that held that irrational fear. A sense that despite the demons that might howl around me, I will be okay.



A Dream of the Free Soul #Dreams

Photo Credit: Pixabay

I had one of those dreams I love, again. The ones where I lift, without effort, my feet off the ground and fly unburdened through the landscape. This one, though, was different. Normally, I wake from my flying dreams feeling frustrated. Lingering inside of me is an almost desperate desire to turn the dream into reality. To somehow master the actual art of levitation and fly around during my waking hours. It sounds somewhat absurd when one considers it in a literal sense. Why fly when you have feet?

Yet we all have inside of us the memory of wings. Our soul, condensed into a physical form to live out a life, knows the freedom of boundless existence and pure, unfettered joy. This is why we dream of flight. To return to this truth. Before this morning, I would wake from my flying dreams feeling weighted by reality as soon as my feet moved off the bed and found landing on the ground. Back to a reality that could not compete with the marvelous freedom of my dream, I would consider it a teasing escape from the here-and- now of existence.

This morning, my dream woke me before it felt complete. I was still flying when it nudged me to wake up at the precise moment I needed to. I don’t use an alarm, and it was 6:10am, time to start the morning and call the teenagers out of their beds. Yet, although I was rather in love with the scene I was living in my dream, the feeling it had instilled in me lingered in a different way than previous nights’. Clarity developed as the vivid display of the dream landscape slowly faded. The gift was inside of me. Not illusive and intangible. It was, simply, me.

I have been grabbling with some of the larger issues of life these days. I will not go into them, as they are private matters, but suffice it to say, they have weighed upon me. Most nights I go to bed and dream of the struggle. Last night, though, I found the release.

It was one of those rare dreams (at least for me) where the seemingly tangled complexity vanishes into the pure truth of life. As I flew from scene to scene, facing the inner demons that I had externalized into my life, I exorcised them. Sometimes literally. I filled my lungs and blew light into the darkness of a haunted basement filled with festering “life.” I flew back to childhood and laughed energy into absurdity. The worry of words not being read turned trivial inside a bookstore that could not contain my flying body. I was vast and limitless. Without weight, I flew into the open air and breathed light to the children surrounding me. I knew they saw the wonder of it, and that was enough. I didn’t linger to prove it, instead, I realized, it was their choice to join me. They had their lives. I had mine. To live. Individually, first and foremost.

You see, as I flew, it became clear that I was flying for no reason other than for myself. What may seem as a selfish revelation, became a selfless truth. The tangle of need to please another, or gain another’s approval disappeared with each scene I flew through. Let them live their lives, so you can live yours.

About a year or so ago, while holding my hands above another person in the transmission of energy that is Reiki, I saw inside the lens of the inner eye, the birth of her soul. It was so profoundly beautiful, I kept it to myself. Until now.  Imagine a star coming into being in the cosmos. A billion particles of light exploding into being. Together, their size dwarfs the planet we call home.

Her soul was all souls. No different than mine, or yours. The magnitude of this weightless revelation coalesced into the truth of my dream upon waking. The vehicle of this human body in which I reside no longer felt like a burden — limited and weighed down — as I realized that the light of my being was a truth that superseded any false notions of reality I chose to cling to. I could hold onto the burden of worry and doubt; of fear and disbelief, and that long held need to live through another’s approval, or I could let it all go and be me. Wholly and completely. Just me. Living this life uniquely designed for my growing and learning back to pure limitless existence.

The Wild Feline: Night Hunter

Wild cat
A Wild Cat in Captivity

I was going to write about the mouse as a messenger, but it was the cat in wild form who came to me last night. She appeared spotted in orange and gold, waiting for me to see her as I was pulled out of one distressing dream into another.

When I opened Ted Andrew’s book Animal Speak this morning, I knew why the feline messenger had made her presence known. Regarding the panther/leopard, he writes that she is a sign of “reclaiming one’s true power.” I had gone to sleep feeling frustratingly powerless. In truth it was not a major event that caused me to feel this way, but my “feelings” about the matter, which underlies the crux of every issue, were part of a deeper fear that needed my attention.

It’s little wonder my dreams were full of loss, the first heart-wrenching and followed by a series of events that seemed to spiral just beyond my control. When I woke I realized the circumstance that had so irritated me and made me feel powerless the night before was minor in comparison to the journeys of my dreams. It was suddenly no big deal, I knew I could easily find a solution.

All cats, both wild and domestic, carry the wisdom of the night. They connect us to our psychic gifts that are birthed out of the dark matter also known as the divine feminine wisdom. My messenger, as I mentioned above, was spotted. I had seen her before, a couple of years ago, in twinned form. She was young, but now she seemed older.

Each spot on the wild cat’s body was like an eye, pulling me within. Andrews writes, “All cats have binocular vision, magnifying images, and facilitating judgment of distances.” (pg. 295) My visitor wore a body of eyes the colors of the 2nd and 3rd chakras, pulling me into the fire inside as she reminded me that I am never powerless if I choose not to be.

The panther/leopard can signal a time of rebirth, as Andrews writes, “old longstanding wounds will finally begin to heal, and with the healing will come a reclaiming of power that was lost at the time of wounding.” (pg. 297) My dreams last night brought me back to my childhood and adolescence, to struggles where I gave away my power to my family and classmates. As the wild cat in my dream quietly stood by in observation, she reminded me it was time to reclaim what I had once given away.

For those of us who are used to having our power stripped away from us, it can be a frightening experience to reclaim what we have lost. The fear that our gifts will be ripped out of us lurks inside our memories, and we doubt our strength and abilities. Most of us never come close to knowing what powerful creators we are, especially women. We have learned to fear what makes us strong, because others have feared the brilliant flame that yearns for light inside of us. The panther/leopard/jaguar appears to quietly lead us home. She wears the powerful stealth of night, hunting her prey with a strength and skill not easily matched.

“The panther holds the promise of rebirth and guardianship throughout. It is the extra protection we need at those times. It is the symbol of power reclaimed from whatever darkness within our life has hidden it.” (Andrews, pg. 298)

The Body of Night

IMG_2531I enter the dark body of night to heal. To recover the parts of me that have been lost to fear over lifetimes.

I’ve always enjoyed putting together puzzles. The more intricate and mysterious the art of creation, the more I am drawn into the process of discovery. I have found no better place to build the puzzle of self than at night, where I can slip into the inky abyss of darkness where everything exists. It can take some cunning and a good dose of courage to find what I am looking for. Night is the place where veils dissolve, and the landscape of the soul is laid bare. It is the place where mysteries blinded by the sun become tangible when we are brave enough to extend our grasp into the black abyss.

Each dream that unfolds through Night becomes a path with a promise of a gift, or many if we can find them hidden amid the shadows. The dreams that cause the greatest tremor of emotion within our “sleeping” form, often hold the most sought-after treasures. I have learned to love nightmares, for they lay bare those pieces that lurk in the crevices of self, which can only be found after putting the easy and obvious together. They are the stuff of the inside that likes to hide, deceptively camouflaged within an unassuming palette. Yes, it is these gems I know seek, for each piece recovered brings me closer to the whole self that is Love.

Love. That is, after all, what it is all about. This quest we are all on. It is said that to love another, we must first love ourselves. I believe that the more fully we love ourselves, the more fully we love others. I believe we can only love in others, what we love in ourselves, and when we are able to accept and unite those aspects of self that are mirrored uncomfortably in others, we finally achieve the whole self that is Love. When we do this, we are loving not the fear in the form of anger, injustice or abuse, but the aspect of universal self beneath it that we all share. The piece of self yearning to be whole that was once love/loved is still, in essence, love.

Now when I discover a piece of self that has become disconnected over (life)time(s), and has forgotten love in favor of the energy of fear, I rejoice. My dreams are a tool, they work with me, taking me down the paths of self-recovery. They lead me to the source, where the hand of fear tries to hide the light. The clues to how I got there are always found in the scenes. Past lifetimes are revealed with vivid faces, costumes and languages I have not encountered in this lifetime, interwoven with a present-day landscape. It is not my job to judge, but to accept. It is not my task to hold on, but to effortlessly let go. I am brought here to seek, to find, and unite into love. I have learned that our fears do make us stronger, when we accept them with understanding, release the energy that traps and reunite the lost love.




The Gift of Night

I used to go to sleep with Fear. When I was a child, I would check the shadowed corners of my room to see if a ghost, or some other unwelcome presence, was lurking there. Three glances for each corner, then I’d quickly tuck myself into bed, pulling the sides of the covers like a cocoon around my head with only my face exposed so I could breath. My army of stuffed animals stood guard around the perimeter of my bed, yet my heart would often race my frantic thoughts to sleep.

More than the dark, I was afraid of what was hidden inside of it. I was raised with the belief that ghosts were not real and a fear of the dark was irrational, but my fear was real. It stayed with me long into adulthood and has only diminished over the past few years. Before it left though, Worry started moving in to take its place. Since Worry is a companion to Fear, it merely took the upper-hand of an already present relationship.

Instead fearing “imaginary” ghosts and demons, my mind played with Worry. As many of us do, I re-worried past events, going through the day’s circumstances that caused frustration or other unpleasant emotions within me. Instead of letting the past settle, I dug it back up and resisted sleep as I sifted through what I could no longer retrieve. Sometimes, I’d move into the future, creating a world of what-ifs and maybes, mostly centered around the emotion of worry.

As I have learned to live more fully in the present, I have found it easier to leave Worry and Fear behind when I tuck myself into bed at night. Most nights I go to bed with feelings of relief, gratitude and expectation. In the soft cocoon of darkness, nestled under my covers (I still tuck them around my head, some habits stick fast), I welcome the unimpeded drift of the mind.

The veil that Ego grips more tightly during the day, quietly dissolves at night when our minds drifts into the intermediary realm that occurs before sleep takes over. In this space Spirit moves freely and, when we are open to it, we travel and commune with our spirit guides, angels and other  beings of light that we often over-look during the daytime. It is a time, I believe, filled with magic. Oh the things I have seen! The places I’ve been! Now I await bedtime with the anticipation of a child on the eve of Christmas. Oh the gifts I have opened!

Art by Karen Kubicko
Art by Karen Kubicko

If  you are used to going to sleep holding the hands of Fear and Worry, try releasing them. Welcome instead, the gentle embrace of Love. Imagine what wonders you will find!


It was another night of fitful dreams. Three nights ago it was a house full of snakes. I was inside, and the floor was a moving mass of their rainbowed bodies. As I have mentioned in an earlier post, snakes have been coming into my life a lot lately. Last week, while on vacation, I went for a run by myself and passed first a dead snake, and then a living snake. The snake is a symbol of change and transformation.  As Denise Lynn writes in her book The Hidden Power of Dreams, it is an animal that is not to be feared when seen in a dream.  It is a messenger/symbol that awakens healing and creative energy inside of us.

After my dream of snakes, I experienced 2 nights of dreams filled with packing bags for a trip I was to make by myself. The destination was unclear, and there was anxiety over filling the bags too full, as well as what I was leaving behind. There were piles of clothes I didn’t need, including some that belong to my mother. This is linked to the snake message and their ability to shed their old skins, leaving them behind like the baggage of the past that is no longer needed and can weigh us down.

I was also concerned with leaving my family behind for this journey I was to make. Worry, as you know, can tangle and incapacitate, and I found myself anxious about making my flight. In last night’s dream, I was to leave at 4:30pm. Clearly I needed to remember these numbers, because even after I woke with my pains in my 2nd chakra (yes, clearly energy was trying to free itself) and tried to reprogram my mind for a new dream, the numbers and the preparations for my journey came back to me.

Recently, a friend of mine told about Joanne Sacred Scribes’ website on interpreting number sequences. Scribes looks at the number 4:30 as a compilation of the individual numbers. The number 4  evokes the Archangels, 3, the Ascended Masters, and 0, the Universe and its endless potential of God/Source energy. 4 is also a number of building foundations, family and stability.  The number evokes the 4 elements and sacred directions. It speaks of wholeness and unity.

The number 3 is symbolic of the trinity of mind/body/spirt and the sacred feminine energies of child/mother/crone. When one combines 3 and 4 to get 7, the symbolism turns inward, to the sacred wisdom inside of us and the energy force of our 7 chakras. It’s a personal path to spiritual truth.

I’ve been feeling the pull to journey to that place of deeper inner wisdom. It’s waiting for me to strip away the vestiges of fear and to trust what my soul already knows. It is  journey we are all called to take at some point in our lives (or at various times in our lives), when we open ourselves to the divine blueprint of our soul’s truth. Why we fear this, it’s hard to say. We get caught up in what we think (or thought) is reality. The mundane sequence of “living” envelopes us and we neglect that spark of unlimited potential inside of us. We are afraid of being different. Of being “wrong.” Of failing. And sometimes, we are afraid of our ego-less power.

The ego easily interferes, telling us that we are unworthy of being divine beings, and causes us to doubt our potential. At least that is the case with me. I rarely doubt the divine energies that come through during healing sessions with clients, but I tend to doubt when it happens to me alone. But this is shifting. I am coming to accept that my soul is patiently waiting for me to shed the skin of my past and walk the path of divine potential.

On the night of July 29th, I was given the keys and some of my guides. The messages were clear and strong, and even though my ego tried to step in and interfere, this was not the stuff of the imagination. What I have come to realize and accept is that we are all capable of journeying to our divine truth, that the guides and tools we need are just  beyond the gate of fear. The stripping away is both exiting and liberating. I was a girl, after all, raised on the belief that we lived a soulless life that ended upon death. You can, perhaps, understand how wonderful it is for me to accept that the fairies I wanted so fiercely to believe in are not only are real, they are more real than the truths I was raised on.  Nothing matches the feeling of meeting the Fairy Queen, of talking with angels and Ascended Masters, of traveling to other realms and entering the energy of animal guides. We find home when we open the channel to our higher selves, and relearning the ancient wisdom that we are being called to remember.  There’s nothing like connecting to the divine life force of love energy that connects all of us. It’s time to believe what we know to be true, to travel back through the head of the ankh and remember.  If I am being called to take this journey, so are you.