Divination through Dreams

If you’ve been following me here or on social media, you know that dream work is a main focus of my work and life. Recently I had a dream but it was more than a dream. This dream was a message. There’s no doubt about it. But who it’s a message for, I haven’t a clue. When you have a visitation in a dream it’s so deftly clear that it’s a visitation and a message. It took me a minute to get this posted, but the dream was about a week ago. The woman visited me last night again, just as I was fading back to sleep after another dream telling me that I’m on the right path.

Upon having the dream the first time, I wrote the dream down right away and in my notes I titled this “Message For The Young Man In The Hay Loft.” He was featured in the dream and the visitor, a woman, wants me to find and deliver the message. But this man is not in my life anywhere. So, I’m turning to the power of the internet.

Message for the Young Man:

The dream opens in the hayloft of a barn, although it also has kind of a clubhouse vibe to it. So maybe it was a hayloft at one time, but isn’t really used as that any longer. Dreams, you see sometimes are a kind of movie, like reels, and other times they are snapshot collages. This dream was like watching an episodic program. First episode, there’s this young girl (late teens, early 20s). She has dark hair. Glasses. She wears a long thick braid. She is sad. The energy is all dark and desperate. She isn’t crying but looks very much like she is crying. She can look out that hayloft window (many barns have an opening at the roof’s peak to make sure the stored hay gets air to not combust and to move the hay more easily to the animals below). She is looking out across a farm and an old two lane road leading to the property. I can see a big Elm tree — at least I think it’s an Elm tree. It looks to be maybe the beginning of fall because some of the fields in the background across the road look like wheat ready to harvest. She is wearing a flowered top and blue jeans. I get the sense from the clothing maybe this is the late 60s or early 70s. She’s breathing in the air and I can see she’s trying to calm herself. She is not bracing herself, but letting the light breeze blow on her face. One navy sneaker, like a classic Ked, perched on the sill of the loft opening, the other on the loft floor. She has one hand on the wall of the loft opening and the other is on her heart, as if, again, she’s trying to calm herself. And from behind, I see, feel a presence. In an instant, you see that there is a hand on her back. The nails are painted a light pink. It reminded me of the color my mother would allow me to use as a young teen, because it was very sheer. The hand pushes. And the young girl falls to her death. In the dream I see her on the ground. The leg that had been on the floor of the loft is bleeding. Her eyes are open. She sees the shadow in the hayloft. 

The visitor then guides me to look in a different direction and I instantly know I’ve moved perspectives and it’s like a stage change. New episode. In the next scene there’s a young man. Dark hair. Glasses or maybe they are some kind of safety glass? Thick black frames. The young man is plain in that country sort of way, but he is strong, from working the land or learning to blacksmith? I’m not sure. He’s also like in a barn, but only three-sided, more of a lean-to. He’s learning to be a blacksmith, maybe even a farrier, as there’s horses in pasture not so far from this lean-to. He has kind of a cloud over his head. He knows he needs to be here, but he’s just so sad. There’s an older man, I feel like they are related, and perhaps this is an elder uncle or even grandfather. The familiarity between them as I observe them work metal and the older man instructing this young man gives the watcher (me) the sense of relationship. At any rate, the young man has this tool. It looks like a hammer, but there’s a sharp edge on the one side and a weird type of funneled-shape head on the other. The two men are taking a break, drinking tea or coffee, the mugs look like coffee but there’s a kettle in the background. Anyhow, the young man is sitting on a stool at a two-person table kind of in the opening of this lean-to. I can see an anvil to the side of him, where the older man has his mug resting. The older man is talking. I can’t hear him. And likely I can’t hear him because the younger man has my POV and he’s not listening. He’s thinking of the girl from the barn. You know how “in love” people have that far away look. I feel it without knowing it. Intuition is strong here. He’s thinking of the one who was pushed. But he thinks that she jumped. He feels guilty. I suddenly see the spirit of the dead girl, her leg still bloody in her flowered shirt and ked sneakers. She’s trying to tell him that she was pushed. She didn’t jump. She loves him. She wanted to be with him. She tries to reach the mug to push it, to get him to see her. But instead she moves the tool he’s holding, and the sharp end begins to swing toward him, but just in time the older man is there to catch it and he berates his younger to pay attention, that this craft is not something to mess with. I see the dead girl’s face. She’s talking to me now. Tell him, she says. Tell him I didn’t jump. Let them all know that she pushed me. She killed me. I loved him. We were supposed to be together. Then she screams this awful, awful cry of someone in so much pain and torment. 

I wake up. 

I have received dreams like this before. Messages from beyond. But I have known who the people are, or I get a name that I can then relate to whomever I come in contact with that day. I don’t know these people. I don’t recognize their landscape. I was super distressed by the scream at the end of the dream. Waking with a start. Disturbing the Viking. I often have nightmares as I am a survivor of much trauma in my life. He patiently asks me to talk about my dreams. I tell him. But the distress after relaying this particular dream is more about how do I reach the people who these messages are for. My intuition says that the old man is likely passed on. The young man is probably receiving social security now. What of the woman’s who’s hand with pink-painted nail pushed the other woman? I don’t know. I only saw a hand and the nails. Why I didn’t get to see the face? I don’t know. My distress again is that I do NOT know who this is a message for. I do now I’m suppose to relate this message. Tell him, she said. Tell who, lady? This is a gift that is to be used, although for so many years I dismissed it because I didn’t understand it and it can be perceived as unhinged.

My Viking suggests that I should write about it. Post it as a message knowing that the person who is supposed to receive it will see it. Ah, my Tech Witch Hubby is brilliant. So here we are. I’m posting it here. Who knows, maybe it will find the intended receiver. 

It’s all I can do, I suppose. But on the night of the Virgo Full Moon March 18, 2022, I had this message come through. 

Is it for you?