There's someone behind you!

A woman I'll call Darlene cleared her throat and nervously opened a folder that was sitting on her lap. She then began to share her dream with the group.

‘This is my dream. I am standing on a street corner somewhere in the city. It is night, dark except for a few street lamps but they are not very powerful. It is windy and cool. I am standing watching a parade. There are marching bands and performers moving down the street. There are families, lots of them, standing on the side of the street smiling and enjoying the parade. I feel uneasy and suspect something is wrong. Then I see him across the road! He’s laughing at me, showing me the curved machete in his hand. He raises his eyes to taunt me. He starts running quickly through the crowd and down the street, indiscriminately cutting the top off the heads of people - scalping them – but they can’t see him. Why can’t they see him? ‘Look out,’ I scream. But they don’t hear me. I chase after him yelling out to the crowd to get out of the way but they don’t respond. People keep falling down as this smiling jester type figure continues to scalp his victims at random. I am racing after him but I can’t get close enough to catch him. He is always just out of reach. My fear for what he is doing keeps me going. His victims fall slowly to the ground and feel their heads. He hasn’t killed anyone but has inflicted pain and disfigurement on them. When will he stop? Still the parade goes on. He gets to the end of the main street, turns and smiles at me, then moves off into a backstreet. Should I follow? I cautiously look around the corner of a dark side street and I see him there, smiling and waving for me to follow him. I think it’s too dangerous. I’m scared. Why is he doing this to me? This was my dream.’ 

For what seemed like an eternity, no-one said a word. I was speechless for another reason. For the entire time Darlene read her dream, I couldn't takes my eyes off the shimmering figure that seemed to be standing behind Darlene with what 'looked' like a hand on her shoulder. Later I was thankful that Darlene had printed copies of her dream to hand out that night. I'd written down words while she read her dream, but what I wrote was what I was 'hearing' from the figure that had somehow 'spoken' to me while Darlene spoke.

Two things where clear at that time of the night. First, I had a page full of notes, metaphors, saying and examples relating to the meaning behind Darlene's dream. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, these messages that I had written down had not come from me (or so I believed). I can't remember thinking about anything that was now written in front of me in my own writing.

The message I had to share with Darlene was from another 'source.' The presence that was 'standing' behind Darlene at the time she shared her dream. A presence that I understood to be that of my grandma.

And like any human being that has ever felt a combination of exhilaration and fear at the same time - like the feeling I can only imagine that is experienced by elite sportspeople as they attempt a new feat or record, I was about to enter uncharted waters. I was about to share a message with Darlene, a message that came from a person that had long ago departed this life.