Monday, January 13, 2014


Earlier today, I woke up from a dream of birds. I should've written this down sooner, as I've forgotten the beginning of the dream, but nevertheless, I still remember the most important part.

I was with a guiding male spirit by my side. A huge flock of big black ravens had been sent to kill me. Without a word, I knew what to do to divert them, to turn them away, to redirect them elsewhere away from my group and I.

I had a vial of blood from a person with my group - he had inadvertently lost it during some magical operation he had performed - I had retrieved and collected it. He wanted me to re-infuse the blood into him, but I knew that if I did that, he would surely die. He was in critical condition, but he still had a chance of survival if he left things alone, If I re-infused the blood he had lost, it would surely kill him. Simply observing me, my guide said nothing.

Sensing the ravens coming towards us in the distance, I took the vial of blood and threw it into the midst of another nearby but separate group of people. The birds followed the smell of the blood spilt from the vial, turning away from my direction and toward the direction of the other group.

I woke up.

Just now writing this post, the smoke detector right outside the room door in the hallway chirped. The battery was low, so I got up from the computer, put in a new battery, came back, sat down and published this blog post. That takes care of that. All fixed.

1 comment:

Lori said...

"The Old English word for a raven was hræfn; in Old Norse it was hrafn; the word was frequently used in combinations as a kenning for bloodshed and battle."

Dare to be true to yourself.