Twenty Years Later: A Dream
September 12, 2021

Yesterday was the anniversary of an important historic event twenty years ago. I remembered how just before those events, I'd referenced the tarot tower card, all aflame, in a journal entry. I could not fail one week later to notice the similarities between it and a photo of the Sept. 11th events:

Traditional Rider-Waite tarot card, photo: ASSOCIATED PRESS, 2001

But going back to those twenty year old entries, I came across a dream I had the day before the tower card reference. It comforts and gives me hope now:


September 3, 2001

"The Magic Within Me"

This afternoon, when napping with Laura, I awoke from a most powerful dream:

I was as I was as a young girl. I was with Gramma and someone else at her house. Was it my Aunt June? We were gathered around something in the center. Was it a deck of tarot cards laid out in a foreboding pattern, a clue to something awful at work? The door bell rang, and Aunt June said, ''Oh that's the hiijra who has a 'friend' next door,'' (Hiijra being the Indian present day ancesters of the ancient Gallae, male priestesses of the Goddess). ''He comes to visit his 'friend', and now he's visiting us.'' I ran to open the door, and found a tall personage there, somewhat thick in the middle, with great long hair. S/he had a variety of raiment piled on he/r, robes, and such, dressed for northern climate, at the very least. I reached up and touched the long loose braid of hair that reached to he/r waist. It was thick and coarse, dark brown with streaks of gray in it. I felt in awe to be touching the hair of this fascinating creature.

Next comes the reason of the visit. It turned out Aunt June and Gramma were seeking he/r assistance on some matter, perhaps what the cards were pointing to. I do not recall the nature of the problem, but that magical assistance was required.

At this moment, there is a strange transformation. I am the hiijra, about to summon the divine forces. I am circling around from the waist up, causing my hair to come loose from the braiding. My hair swings wildly around me, as I circle faster and faster. I feel the magic power swell up through me, through my feet, and out through the ends of my hair strands. Whatever needed fixed will surely be set right by the forces I am calling. I am near struck down by the power, and it is only my twirling that keeps me upright.

I know this dance is called by some the Sufi dance, as I whirl and twirl to channel the power.

At this point I awaken to the present day world.

Perhaps this dream is telling me I have magical abilities within me that I am just beginning to be aware of. I would like to think it is, at any rate.


September 4, 2001 - A

"One Can Only Hope"

New clean sheet . . .

When to the morning's prayer, I start the day with a searching awareness. What shall be worthy of being set to print? No doubt many items are lost, and without good reason. Still, we gather what we can, and that is all we can do.

What to make of a dream like yesterday's? The repercussions echo in my mind a thousand times over. I remember as a child, Gramma telling me I had a 'gift for prayer'. Within her Christian framework, this is as best as she could visualize it, and it might be sufficient. Still, to the understanding of what I have within me that might 'make the world a better place', other icons have been set in place by others who call such things 'magical'. Who is to say what is right?

* * * * * * *

It all sets me to wondering, and so I wonder. On a still dark morning, wonder is not all bad. Still, I begin cautiously, with prayer, and await what lies before me. Magical or not, there are still the pressing day to day concerns. There can be a stability in that, one task leading to the other. One thing is sure, I feel a sense of a growing confidence I did not have when young. Perhaps that is another meaning of the dream. Note the whirling, twirling dancer had GRAY streaks in that marvelous mane of hair. Wisdom (and power) may come with age. One can only hope.


So here I am, twenty years older. My hair isn't gray, but I have a neck wattle and thin, shiny skin on my hands.

I'm taking the dream to mean that I have talents that are needed, and that I needn't fear getting older, because in some ways, I will grow stronger.

Kheperu! (May it become!)


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