Moon Sign: Sagitarius
Weather: Cold, moderately cloudy
I occasionally will have visions of things. Sometimes, my ancestors will come to me in them and tell me things or give me tasks to do. There are times where I can make sense of them quickly. Othertimes, I may over complicate them in my efforts to make sense of them. This, I suspect, is the case in the one that I present below. This has been a recurring dream in the midst of the dreams of nonsense. This dream, however, has been particularly clear. I know that there is a message here. I just can not make sense of it.
Now, to place a bit of context here. I am dreaming of the native american women to whom I am related. One is my great-great-great grandmother, a Souix medicine woman. The other is her grandmother. They are related to me on my mother's side of the family. They've come to me at other times with answers to major questions or information. They've also taught me things as well. All of this said, here is the vision that I have been struggling with. Please, some one, help me make sense of it.
I am walking on a dirt path thru a forest. It is late Spring/early Summer. The air smells wet and heavy, though the Earth is dry. I believe it will rain sometime later. The walking stick in my hand is warm and my sandals are uncomfortable because my feet are mildly swollen. Ahead of me on the path, she is waiting as she always is. On her stern face, however, is a smile. She is proud of me for struggling up this far and actually showing it on her face, rather then a curt nod of approval.
The baby is squirming in his sling across my shoulders. He's secure, so I am not worried. I think we may need to run, but I don't know. The ground here is uneaven. The soil has a red color to it, smells strongly of clay. I think I'm in western Georgia, but I'm not sure. This place never seems to have any firm indications of where it is, except for the forest, mountains, and the humidity. Ahead of us is the village. Nothing here has changed in the years of having visions of this place. Grandmother has come out of her home. She never does that. But now, here she is, standing in the sunlight with her steel grey hair gleaming in the dappled light.
She is also smiling. It is a plesant surprise, but I am now wondering why they are smiling. I walk up to her and embrace her. She nods and claps me on the shoulder before pointing up to the top of the hill (mountian? what is this place? I've had dreams and visions of being here and I just don't know!). I turn and begin walking up the path and they walk with me. It is silent, but they've never been ones to idly chatter. As we walk, I see that there is a large stone outcropping up here. The stone is flint and remains jagged and sharp, despite countless years of weather wearing at it.
I'm motioned over to the edge of it and told to sit. They sit beside me and point away off to the East. There, on the horizon, I see open green fields turning to sand. Among them, people are flailing, covered in bugs. Various stinging and biting insects swarm over them. I'm told that this is what is coming and that pure, clean water will help prevent this from coming into my home.
They then point off to the West. There, the horizion appears as though there is a sunset, but all in shades of red. Away, as far as the eye can see, there is bare bedrock in an uneaven broken sheet. Animals and people are fleeing as this barrenness spreads, spurred on by wind. Where the sun would be setting, there is a point of darkness. It is almost oily black, but it has a depth with out luster. Within it, there is a figure of a darker black walking forward. All of this spawns forward with each step.
They then point to the North. Snow and wind blind me for a moment. Then, I can see children playing, shreiking and screaming with laughter. The air is so cold that it takes my breath from me and my lungs burn. The snow falls faster and faster, piling up higher. Soon, the children are no longer laughing but crying. They want to come in out of the cold, but can not for they are lost in the snow. The places where their footprints were in the snow are filled in and swept clean by the wind.
Then, they point to the South. I'm told to watch and not say a word. I see smoke. I can smell inscence, I believe it is frankinscense, but I am not sure. It is heavy and cloying, I can taste it on my tounge. A woman is groaning and crying out. Her belly is huge and her head is hanging down as she lies back on an odd looking chair. Her feet are raised and her shoulders are as well. It as though she is sitting in a crouch, like a hospital bed with stirrups for labor or a gynecologial exam. The chair is made of red wood, almost looking like fresh cut cedar when it is wet. I can not see her face. Her hair is long and twisted. She is coated in sweat and seems to possibly be in labor. I don't know, all I see is her straining to no apparent avail. After a few moments of additional struggle, she leans back and begins to weep and cries out with anger.
Something that is supposed to happen is not happening and she is tired. As a person wearing a turqoise/aqua colored paper mask approaches, she begins to yell at them. "No, don't you dare poison me with those things. You claim they help but they don't! Don't you dare put them in me! Now, get away! Go!" The smoke rises and stings my eyes as it obscures my vision.
Then I see the trees on the hills with their leaves dancing in the breeze. I hear bells and the Grandmother takes my hand and pats it. She kisses my son, who is sleeping, on his forehead. She walks away down the path. My other ancestrix sits by me. She's waiting for me to do or say something. But I don't know what I am supposed to do. Down at my feet, a pregnant mouse comes out of the grass and stares up at me with a large seed in her teeth. She sits up on her hind paws and begins to eat, staring up at me expectantly.