Journal: Dream Journal
Date: 8-25/26-2013
Aug 25-26 Dream:
Speaker for the Soul
I had been called upon to perform a soul release ceremony
for four young adults who died in a car crash. I am not sure who set it up for me to do this, because all
of the families involved seemed very confused and, at first, a bit leery of
what it was that I was supposed to be doing. “Perhaps it was the souls, themselves, that moved me into
this position?” I remember
thinking to myself while talking with the families and understanding that they
had no idea what it was I did.
“So, you’re like a Speaker for the Dead?” A brother of one of the deceased asked after I told them it
wasn’t going to be your typical funeral service. “It’s similar, I suppose. But I’m more like a Speaker for the Soul. The soul lives on. Death is of the body.”
I began asking the families about different images and
messages that kept coming up about each of the four who had passed. In medicine wheel formation, four
totems spoke up for me to translate to the living: Butterfly in the East, Rattlesnake in the South, Swan in the
West, and Tortoise in the North.
I decided to start with Butterfly, who spoke to my own
Butterfly totem. “Who would be the
one who was very colorful and underwent a significant transformation in their
life?” A father and mother looked
at each other. The mother’s eyes
watered and she covered her mouth, so the father spoke up. “That was our daughter, Chloe. She was our artist, always painting
colorful flowers. She always said
her favorite color was ‘rainbow’.
There was a difficult time in her life when she was addicted to drugs,
we felt like we didn’t know her anymore…like she was a completely different
person, or…like she wasn’t even there anymore. But she got clean, about a year ago, and the change was very
significant. She was absolutely
vibrant afterwards, still the little girl we raised…but also this beautiful
young woman we were just meeting for the first time. We were so proud of her.” He choked up and tried to hold back a flood of emotions.
“Does it make sense to you that she would speak to me as a
Butterfly?” I asked. The mother looked at me with wide
eyes. “I used to call her my
Flutterby when she was a little girl.
She was always flitting from flower to flower in my garden, touching
each one with her finger. It was
so precious. The butterflies
seemed to love her. When I see
them in my garden, I always think of her.”
I nodded.
“There was another who went through a significant transformation, but
wouldn’t be described as colorful.
Someone who physically blended in with their surroundings but could
command attention with their voice?”
“That sounds like Hunter.” A young mother holding a toddler said. “He joined the Marines after he
graduated from high school. He
served two tours battling insurgents and protecting Iraqis in the war. It was constant fighting. He was suffering from post-traumatic
stress. He couldn’t sleep, he was
depressed, and he began drinking more heavily. All of his initial requests for help were ignored. He decided to give up on seeking
help. He watched other Marines
around him behave like zombies on their medication, some of his friends had
committed suicide. He didn’t want
to become like them. He told me he
had to keep our baby, Hope, in mind when he would feel himself slipping. Then somewhere along the lines, he
began using marijuana because it was the only thing that helped him relax. Shortly after, he failed a surprise
drug test and was discharged without honors. He appealed, after his release, and they eventually changed
it to an honorable discharge after determining that his plea for help had been
ignored. Even still, he was
battling his personal demons at home.
He refused help at first.
He was so angry. He’d be
very quiet for long periods of time…but then something would set him off and he
would lash out verbally. He never
hurt us physically…but he would yell a lot. I felt like he didn’t want me around him. He would hibernate in his room in the
basement, and I would just take care of Hope. For a while, it felt like he never really came home…there
was just a ghost of him living in our basement. I was afraid to talk to him most times because I didn’t want
him to snap at me. One night, I
did go downstairs to tell him that Hope said her first word. I thought he’d be happy to hear that
she said ‘Dada’. I saw him sitting
there in his chair with his gun in his mouth. It scared me and I screamed at him. He came to me and held me on the
stairs. He agreed that he needed
help. It was the first time we’d
really talked since he was home.
It was the first time I felt him again. He did get help after that. They found that he had suffered a brain injury as a
repercussion of a bomb exploding.
They treated him for that.
And he went to therapy to work though some of the things he saw while in
Iraq. He was starting to get
better. He was better. And now he’s gone.”
“It’s Rattlesnake who speaks for him.” I told her as the rest of her family
huddled around her while she sobbed.
The father nodded. “My boy
loved snakes. He could tell you
anything you wanted to know about them.
He’s been catching them since he was a kid. Always made us laugh that his mother was so afraid of them.”
“And who would be the graceful, intuitive one? Someone who was very emotionally in
tune with others, and perhaps had musical talent?” I asked.
“That was Bridget Grace, my daughter.” A woman holding a white veil in her
hands spoke up. “This was my veil
when I married her father, and she was going to wear it at her wedding. Liam, the one who was driving, had
recently asked her to marry him…and they were on their way home after taking
Chloe and Hunter out to dinner to tell them the good news. Chloe was going to be her maid of
honor, and Hunter was going to be the best man. I was so happy for Bridget; she’s been in love with Liam
since they were teenagers. They
were such a cute couple. She wrote
a lot of love songs about him. She
was going to sing one she had just wrote at their wedding. The last time I talked with her, she
sang it to me. It was so
beautiful, it made me cry.”
“She comes to me as a Swan.” I said.
“Yes. That’s her.” Her mother replied with a sad
smile. “She also played the
violin. She has a swan feather
attached to her bow.”
“And the Tortoise must be Liam. Was he a very patient, peaceful person?” I asked.
“Yes. He was
very thoughtful; focused. He never
rushed into anything. He had been
planning out his life with Bridget since he first met her.” Liam’s brother answered. “I would always try to push him to make
bigger moves, but he knew what he was doing. He couldn’t be rushed.
He meant to have his whole life secure before he popped the question. He just bought a house, and that was
the last step he meant to make before asking Bridget to be his wife. He had everything together, always,
more than anyone I ever knew. He
was so wise and careful, I thought he would outlive us all.”
“He was very much like a tortoise.” His mother added. “He was our rock. Always so grounded. The most trustworthy person, it’s hard
to believe anything could happen to them with him behind the wheel.”
“It was an accident, honey.” Her husband hugged her while she cried into his chest.
“What will you do in this ceremony?” The brother asked me.
“I’m here to guide their souls into the afterlife.” I told them. “And to help you all to grieve and release. The ceremony is as much a celebration of
their lives here with all of you as it is an initiation into their next
journey.”
