One night in high school, I was having a regular “recycle the day” dream, and I heard my grandmother’s voice getting louder and louder, “Wake up! your brother’s room is on fire!” I woke up and smelled smoke, I run to my brother’s room and sure enough, the whole room was on fire, except for the bed where my brother still slept. He had left a candle burning and it had fallen, setting the room on fire. We were just in time. I woke everyone else and my dad and I grabbed the sheets and pulled my brother out of the room…
The last time I saw my grandmother was when I turned 15, and she came in a dream to say goodbye. She showed me a beautiful field and in the middle was a large standing mirror in a pedestal. She explained that now I was old enough to fend for myself and that she had many things to do and that I could always call on her, that she would be always with me in my heart.
Then she walked through the mirror and she was gone.
There have been many guides since then, and I find that the guides are usually there for me depending on the questions I’m asking, or the issues that I’m exploring at the time.
There is this guide I call “old man”, that usually shows up when I’m working on issues, such as fear. In the dream state he takes me to places and times where issues originate. He shows up in a dream, interrupts the ‘regular’ dream and we travel to a different time, ancient times usually.
The first time he showed me a place that looked medieval, but I know it was much, much older. It was dark and you could sense malignancy everywhere. The guide, Old Man, gave me a sharp wicked looking dagger, and he told me I had to kill someone… someone evil. I was disappointed, I expected something different.
In the center courtyard, there was an ancient tree, and a suffering tortured person, tied to it. There were wild cats like panthers. I wasn’t sure if I could be seen, but I walked cautiously towards the person, cut his ties and helped him escape. Then I saw this dark cloaked figure of a man appear.
He seemed surprised but quickly attacked me, we fought and as I pinned him down, his hood came out and I could see his face, twisted with rage and fear, and I realized he was me. Wow I didn’t see that coming. I dropped the knife and walked away.
Still in the dream state, I returned home. I could see my body below lying in bed, sleeping.
I apologized to the old man for having failed the mission and I handed him the dagger. Then he smiled and said that I had actually passed the mission.
In confusion, it wasn’t until I woke up later that I realized what he meant. He wanted me to have compassion for my past actions and for myself, in those many different states of consciousness.
That was one of the places where fear had originated, it had so many facets, as many facets as there were lifetimes. The fear of hurting someone, of repeating mistakes and of not making the right choices. That is one of the things our soul fears the most…