If there is one thing I rarely do, it’s recall my dreams. Even if I know I’ve just been dreaming, I can’t remember a bloody thing that went on. My wife is the polar opposite. She has a dream tale to relay nearly every morning when we get up, all of which have a very coherent narrative and characters.

That is why the last few weeks have been so strange for me. I haven’t been dreaming a lot per se, but I’ve had three distinct dreams that I recalled in their entirety after waking.

I should preface this with the fact that I sort of ‘asked’ my Ancestor(s) during a recent ritual to give me some clue as to who specifically I was dealing with, so I could better offer things of meaning to them. It’s one of those pleas that I’ve made in the past that went largely unheeded, so I didn’t think much of it.

The following night, I had a really bizarre dream. I was standing in a wooded place holding a bunch of some sort of green leafy plant. Then an old lady approached. She had matted, grey hair and was wearing rags or furs. She looked like what I’d imagine someone living in a cave for a decade might look like. Although, she seemed less homeless and more like she was plucked from the dark recesses of time. I threw the plants in her direction and they became these twinkly lights that spread all over the ground in front of her and she seemed pleased and the dream ended.

In the second dream, which happened about a week later, I was in a white, heavily sunlit room. I could hear a woman making noise in the next room, so I went over to see what all the fuss was about. There was a woman laying on the floor, in what looked like some sort of weird sleeping bag. She looked as if she was a younger version of the previous woman. I could tell she was dead, or in some sort of coma-like state. She woke up and walked over to me slowly and was wearing a red, silken robe of a sort.

I was like “what was all the fuss about?” And she answered “You were the one calling to me, I just answered.”  Weird.

Then she drops the robe and she’s totally naked. Instead of the typical “oh nice!” dream response to naked lady parts, I didn’t want to look, as I felt it wasn’t appropriate. She reassured me that it wasn’t a sexual thing and she “appeared like this all the time.” But I wasn’t having it. I was even wearing my glasses in the dream, as I made a point of looking at her while she spoke over my glasses so she’d be blurry. She had tanned skin and long dark hair. If I was forced to place her ethnicity, I’d think she was somewhere nestled between Iberian and Welsh in colouring and appearance. That is just a guess, mind. She may have just had a killer tan.

At the end of the dream, she came and sat beside me, now dressed and with her hair braided. The last part, right before I woke up is probably the most bizarre. For some reason, I decided to playfully bite her arm, right before I woke.

The third was a real odd one. In this dream, the woman didn’t make an appearance and instead I was visited by what looked like an old Native man. He had grey hair and seemed friendly enough. He told me he was Mohawk and showed me his village. It was Winter and I saw young men from the village fighting another group of Natives. The old man said “they went for a year to fight, it’s a rite of passage.” I then went over to an icy pond, where I saw a friend I used to work with fall in. I ran over to the hole and tried to wrestle him out and at the last moment, I realised that I too was in the frigid water. Then I woke up.

Admittedly, I know VERY little about Native Americans. I didn’t even know, until I’d done some research the next morning, that the Mohawk are part of the Iroquois Confederacy and lived in this very area prior to European settlement. That is why it was so weird to find that there was a Dream Feast held in the Winter, where young men would dream and have their dreams interpreted by others in the longhouse. One dream that was famously told to Jesuits during their time spent with the Iroquois, was that of warriors going through a hole in an icy river and emerging from a different hole, which was symbolic of an initiation. In the Jesuit account, they also bore witness to young warriors returning from a year-long battle with the Cat Nation.

I have no idea why I’d be having dreams about Iroquois rites of initiation, as I know virtually nothing about them, and have no links to them in any ethnic or cultural sort of way. My father came to Canada in the 70’s and my maternal great grandmother came in the early 20th century, so I don’t think I’m making contact with a lost relative in this case. Perhaps it’s a Wight attached to this land answering the call? Perhaps my Cofgodas are a carousel of different Ancestors and Wights that make their appearance at different times, or for different reasons. I really don’t know. All I know is, I’ll be adding a pinch of tobacco to some of my offerings in the future, just to be safe.


2 thoughts on “Swefenracu

  1. Just because they’re not *your* ancestors doesn’t mean they’re not *someone’s* ancestors. They want to be remembered. I think that is amazingly awesome. I think there might be some study in your future!

    Liked by 1 person

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