Late Night Visit With the Mighty Dead: A Knock at the Door

Dreams are one the many ways in which I interact with the world magickally. For a while now I have been practicing lucidity and forms of astral work on the Dreaming Road. Usually if I do not instigate such work I don’t recall my dreams the next morning. Don’t get me wrong, I dream, often in fact. I just don’t remember them, that is unless it is important.

Last night while I was sleeping, one of the Mighty Dead, an Ancestor of Spirit, came knocking on the door. I mean this quite literally.

Earlier this year a Druid I have known for a little over a decade, whom had been active in Druidry/Druidism for the past 40 or so years and has helped to shape its core in this country, passed away. For those that do not know, Druidry, both British and American forms, have greatly shaped my Craft. For a long time Druidry was the foundation of my personal practice. This Druid, whom we shall call Druid Curmudgeon, an honorary title given to him by his Grove, was instrumental in the direction I took when first embarking upon the path of the Druid. He pointed me in the right direction and I will ever be grateful.

Well, last night I was dreaming, I don’t know about what, I had not planned any work and it wasn’t anything important. That changed suddenly. There was a knocking on my front door and not only had my dream shifted into the realm of importance but I was instantly lucid and aware of the importance of what was occurring. So I answered the door. The figure at the door was none other than Druid Curmudgeon, whom let himself in, walked into my kitchen, and told me to have a seat at my kitchen table and that we needed to talk.

Panic set in. Why? Cause apparently someone that is already nicknamed “curmudgeon” came back from the dead to have a sit down talk at me, note that the wording was not “with me” but “at me.” He had a quite bit to say, I’ll sum it up as “You are wrong.”

The slightly longer version being, I recently began to refocus my Priest work, again. Apparently the direction I was headed in with it was towards complete and utter failure, from Druid Curmudgeon’s perspective. Pretty much as soon as his message was delivered, I awoke. I spent almost the whole morning mulling over what had occurred and have concluded, via omens, intuition, and circumstance that it was indeed a message I need to heed.

Whether or not Druid Curmudgeon actually visited me upon the Dreaming Road or if it was something else, I dunno.  I do know I have a black volcanic skull I keep on my ancestor altar that I make offerings of Ancestor Oil upon once I have opened the gateway, and that I will do so and light a flame in his name.

Maybe I will see him on the Dreaming Road again, but maybe next time it’ll be less of a talking to.

Boidh Se!

-SM

“Lost in a thicket bare-foot upon a thorned path.”