Swedish Laplander

This morning I dreamt. I was trying out a handcrafted hand carved beautiful javelin I was considering buying. The javelin was very very long like a ship. It was made by a Norseman. I walked the road to Sweden, javelin in hand, and as I did, my surroundings changed sharply from american day to swedish night and from late spring to winter with snow covering the ground. The night snow stirred me inside with a profound recognition.

With my small traveling group, along the walk deeper into the snowy landscape towards Sweden in the North, my ex-husband (from whom I acquired the Lapland name Lappin) approached my path from my right (coming at me from the Northwest direction going Southeast as I walked going North from the South) carrying a smaller Norseman javelin. He almost bumped into me with his javelin, but before he did, his path veered tangentially away from mine.

My javelin was unusually long, longer than most others. It was in a special honored class of javelin which looked like it had been shaped from the side of a Viking longship. It was functioning like a divining rod and compass for me as I walked towards Sweden. It was no ordinary javelin at all. I wanted to keep this javelin. It was working out well in my hand. I felt deeply connected to the javelin and to Sweden. It was a deep sacred connection and in my hand, it belonged to me now.