An Immortal Line?

I wake up and there is a fragment I can still see burned into my mind’s eye–my sweetie is behind a counter (he is a clerk in a store?), both hands on the counter, leaning forward looking at me with a look of concern. I remember the thought Everyone expects me to take care of them, but who takes care of me?

I’m awake, but not for long. I fall back asleep. I then dream I am in a meeting with my supervisor, who is giving me a briefing on new hires. He tells me that Adam’s grandson is now working for us. I think Adam as in the Bible. Then I have a flash of Burn Gorman. What is he doing there?

Next I am in the hallway of our house. I have a teeny tiny Bible in my hand and I’m trying to flip through the onion skin like pages (have you ever tried to read a miniature Bible–it’s so easy to tear the pages) to find the section in Genesis that talks about Adam and his children. I remember Cain and Able, but who was after that? Is the grandson Cain’s? Or is it Seth’s? And what was their name?

A teenage girl with long dark hair walks up to me and says “Gee, Mom, just take five minutes for yourself, sit in a chair, and try to read a normal size Bible.” So I guess this is my daughter. Then she starts teasing me about being a grandma and I think I’m not old enough to be a grandma. And then I realize she is trying to tell me that Adam’s grandson is my grandson. So I’m Eve? What? Lilith maybe, but Eve?

Then I wake up again. I can’t get the Burn Gorman bit out of my head? Is it Adam as in Torchwood Adam? Then I realize that Gorman’s character is named Adam on Forever. So the Adam lineage in the dream has something to do with immortals?

Apparently, the grandson of Adam in the Bible is Enos. No clue what that means yet.

Oh, and also, ENOCH? Now that is interesting.

The Open Door

I’m standing outside. It’s dark and windy and snow is blowing everywhere. It’s a blizzard! Yet I’m not scared to be out in it–I’m enjoying it. The wind is howling and it’s bringing out the wild and dangerous part of me. Half of me thinks I’m going to shapeshift into a wolf and start howling too.

Then I see light, I squint my eyes to see through the snow and realize it’s a door, open, with a hand reaching out to me. I know that hand, those long slender fingers. Why would I be outside howling in the dark when I could be with my sweetie?

I make my way to the door, and his arm comes around me to pull me in. He closes the door with the other hand. He’s tsk tsking me like You silly goose.What on earth were you thinking?

Everything is hyperreal. The wool of his sweater against my cheek. The scent of peppermint wafting from the kitchen. I’m mesmerized by the colors of the tiles in the foyer. The grays and browns dissolve and coalesce. The energy is shifting to a higher vibration and I’m seeing it. It’s always really trippy when that happens, but I’m getting used to the dizziness now. Ground, ground.

And as I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is being in his arms again.

Blood Moon Eclipse Dream

I’m in a public place. It’s hard to describe. There are chairs at an angle, like the side rows of a large theater. That’s where I’m sitting. But there is a podium where someone is speaking. Directly in front of the podium is lawn, and then there’s a tall concrete wall. It seems like the speaker is speaking to a wall (how’s that for symbolism).  There are lots of young people sitting on the grass.

I realize that the person at the podium is MIchael. I can sorta hear him, but I think if I get closer, then I’ll be able to hear him better. I get up and go to sit on the grass next to some kids. Even though I’m just now a few feet away, I can’t hear a word he’s saying.

I ask the kid next to me if he can hear. He shakes his head and says no. I sit there for a few minutes, straining to hear something, anything, but nada. So I get up and go back over to the seats and voila, I can hear him again.

Of course, since it’s a dream, I don’t remember a damn thing he said. But I was aware, even in the dream, that it was Michael and it’s been a long time since MIchael’s been to see me. The last time, I was in the middle of a tornado outbreak, and was calling on him to help me. He told me “You need to own up to your power and do it yourself. There are other people who need me. You have the reiki. Use it.” That was, what? Ten, twelve years ago. So it’s significant that Michael showed up again, but why was it so difficult to hear him? Or maybe the point was that I could hear him and others didn’t? They sat there and pretended to hear him but really didn’t and he was basically just talking to a wall?

Then my mom and I are walking down the main street in the town where she lives. I see that there is a new store off on a side road and they seem to have some midcentury modern furniture. I guess it’s a second hand store, but they do have some new boxed, build-it-yourself furniture. They have two end tables that are identical to the tables my uncle made for my cousin’s bedroom when she was a little girl. I think it’s odd that there would be identical tables, identical down the hardware, because my aunt gave me those tables when I went away to college and they are sitting on either side of me as I write this, and endtables in the media room of my house.

So we go inside. I go poking around, and my mom goes poking around. I look at two framed oils in a large canvas bag and see that they are portraits of me. I call my mom over and she sheepishly admits she gave them away. I chew her out about that; why would she give pictures of me away?

Then I keep digging to see if there is anything else she gave away I need to get back. I see a series of oils in blue gilt frames. They look like Gainesboroughs. It’s hard to describe them because I was looking at them upside down–they were on the floor facing away from me, in a triangle shape (like a family tree?). The top picture was small and looked a lot like Blue Boy. There was a man in one and a woman in another. To the far left, there was another picture but I couldn’t see what it was because it was covered in kraft paper. I don’t know whether to take the paper off or not, but I decide not to because I think it will hurt the value.

I decide I need to get back these pictures as well as my portraits. I’m peeved that my mom gave them away and now I have to pay to get them back. I go looking for the owner. I hear him in the back room and I go to the back room door to yell to get him. There are DVDs and CDs in a carousel display by the door and I blunder into them and knock some down. The guy yells from the back room and I ask him if they are his porno collection.

Then I wake up, briefly. I think, It’s the blood moon eclipse; it’s opened a portal to see beyond.

Then I remember that dream, the one that started it all for me, all those years ago when I was young, a blood red full moon sitting atop the electric pole in my parents’s back yard, power lines radiating out from either side of it. A cross. The cardinal cross. The blood moon eclipse pattern with the cardinal cross. Now. Right now. All those years ago a sign that I puzzled over and now it makes sense.

The time is now.

Erasure

I dreamed about the weird bird like guy again last night. All I remember is a map of the United States and written on a chalkboard next to it, information about weird bird guy. And just as I was getting ready to focus in on the board and read it, the writing simply disappears! Like an eraser just swept across the board. And I actually heard someone say the word “erasure” as I woke up, startled.

Of course, no one in the real world said it. It was the bleed over between the dream world and ours. But my annoyance remains. Why make me aware of something if I’m not allowed enough information to do something?