Originally Posted by JustLovelyJenn
::: When I meditate I most often find myself walking in a dreamscape of my own making. The place is always the same, but the experience changes each time allowing for different lessons to be learned and giving me the what I need to understand the things that are happening in my. :::
I look down at the water. It is moving swiftly but I cannot hear its flow. A moment later I feel the earth shift beneath my feet and I am aware I am crouched low with my hands on my knees. Slowly sound filtered in and I can hear the rivers song. Then the wind joins and the trees and I am in my place, with the red dirt beneath me. I can’t look away from the water. I watch a leaf float by and I see the pebbles glitter below its surface. Then a salmon swims past, hurrying against the current. My eyes move, finally, across the water to the far bank and I noticed for the first time the feet standing on the other side. They belong to a young man, just a few years younger than me. He is clad only in leather leggings and his long, dark hair is split and braided over either shoulder. As I see him, he smiles and beckons me, saying a single word as he turns to sprint into the forest. “Come.”
I look up and down the water’s edge searching for a bridge to cross and find none. Again, he beckons me. “Come.” Taking a resigned breath I stand and step into the river, wading across the in water just above my knees to the opposite bank. I hurry to follow as he weaves through the trees to a small fire. He stands, silent, his arms outstretched to its warmth, only long enough for me to reach him and catch my breath. Then again he turns to the trees and beckons me, “Come.” As I follow new noises register in my ears. I hear movement that can only come from people and voices raised in joy and celebration. A longhouse comes into view and I can see the shadows of dancing and fire beyond.
He pulls aside the skin covering the entrance to the longhouse and gestures for me to enter. Again, saying a single word. “Come.” I follow and sit as directed by a small fire in the center of the single room. My guide disappears out a second doorway at the other end. When he returns he carries two small wooden plates laden with food. “Eat,” he replies to my questioning glance. We eat in silence. I am starving. The meat is warm and juicy on my tongue and too soon it is gone. I look up to thank my host and am stopped with a raised hand. He shakes his head and places a small leather bag in my hand. With a nod he explains. “A gift. Open.” I loosen the long strings and empty its contents into my palm. It holds three small items. As I examine them, he moves closer and touches each one in turn, telling me what their purpose is. “Bear claw, obsidian, amber. Strength, sight, patience.” He picks each up, returning them to their bag and places it around my neck.
“Go now,” is all he says as we leave the longhouse together. I turn to follow the path we had arrived on and he stops me with a hand on my arm. “Fly,” he says as he looks up. Understanding his meaning I close my eyes and wait for the familiar feeling of the wind lifting me up into the night. As I sore on the air I feel a thousand worries carried away from me. I feel free and my heart smiles. I fly high watching the last moments of sunset and then low over the lake, admiring the reflection of the beautiful bird it shows me with white feathers at its breast and a pointed beak. For a long time I play on the breeze feeling no need or desire to land. As the moon reaches its full brightness, I turn in the air at the sound of a high call. Another bird is close. Different, but still somehow the same. We circle each other and play together for a time before moving as one towards the Earth below. As my feet land softly on the red ground, my fingers lace with another hand. I look down at the two hands entwined and know only happiness as we walk towards dawn.
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