Graveyard Dream

Ever fall asleep in a graveyard? I used to go there to get away from home, I had no friends. I would lay in the sun, my thirteenth summer, in the afternoons listening to the crows caw, wishing I could stay on that grave covered hill and never go home. Drifting off to sleep, I had no idea the change I was inviting.

I preferred  that graveyard to home so much that I began to dream about going there even when I slept at home. This is the dream I had many years ago. It was the first dream I can remember in which I was “called” by a powerful being. The being was so powerful that I was afraid to look at it as I felt it beside me. It called me to a graveyard where I looked in a shallow grave and saw tarot cards.

I could hear voices from the cards speaking to me. I could feel their frustrated souls crying to be set free from their prison. But it was not the cards that imprisoned them. It was their own regret, bitterness or pain that was keeping them from moving on. They called to me to speak for them to help the living to hear them, to ease their troubled souls. I did wish to help them, but when the presence told me I was “chosen” to do this, I balked.

“I can not speak for them. I can not even speak for myself. People already treat me like I am crazy. No one listens to me, they only laugh,” I argued.

“If you refuse, this is what will happen.”

The spirit pulled me up to the clouds. Flying though space and time it showed me a huge city full of skyscrapers. New York I thought, having seen it in many movies. I watched as two planes flew toward the tall towers. I knew they would kill many. I wondered why. That was when I saw the monster, a “Godzilla” like creature as big as the towers. It was making it happen. I could see the minds of the men flying the planes were blinded by the monster which had filled their thoughts with hate and numbed their hearts. Looking closer at the monster I saw faces and recognized the souls from the cards in the grave. They were darker, angrier and more twisted. They had given up on redemption and passing on. Instead, since the living continued to ignore them, they had bound themselves together with thousands of other lost souls to make the living notice them the only way they could. Through murder and destruction. And the more they killed and the more fear and hate they spread the bigger they/ it (the monster) would become.

Then the spirit lifted me again and carried me in the opposite direction and further forward in time. I found myself looking down upon an island. I saw people that looked asian near the waters edge. Again, the “Godzilla” creature came. Out of the water, it roared, pushing a mammoth wave ahead of it. Bigger than before, fed by all the deaths of the past. I could not imagine anything, anyone could ever stop its ravenous craving for death and destruction. And more people would die, oh so many more to feed and fuel this monster.

I refused to watch anymore and the spirit took me back to the graveyard.

“That is what will happen.” It repeated.

Again, I argued. “I am not the one, chose someone else,” I begged. “Chose someone people like to talk and listen to,” I thought of all the people in my life who others listened to without ever getting called weird or crazy.

“No, they are star children,” the spirit informed me. “You are a moon child. You are chosen. If you do not accept it these things you have seen will happen. Then you will know, absolutely, you are chosen.”

I did not trouble too much over the dream. It was just a dream. I wanted a normal life, if I could have it. I told no one of the dream. I told no one how real it felt. I told no one how I worried that the dream was important. I wanted a normal life, I wanted to be a normal person.

But I did not have a normal life. Nineteen years passed by. I had too many other problems to think about dreams. Nineteen years passed. In the summer of 2001, I learned to hate. I had never truly hated before, but that summer I hated like I had never hated before . . .