Journal: Spirit Guide quick message

During meditation, I asked to speak with my Spirit Guide. I asked for messages and information about Mediumship for me and my role regarding it. I heard a man’s voice, never saw him, say “For the women”. I was standing next to him and he was reaching down, opening a wooden box. That’s all there was. I came out of the vision, asked for more but didn’t receive anything else.


Journal: Mediumship

I have done some Medium work with friends for beloved pets who have passed on and I did a beautiful one for a close friend whose Mother had passed away. When I heard about the troubles a friend of mine was going through (we were not close, had only hung out here and there but she was special) with the devastating loss of her dogs, I offered to see if anything came through for her and her beloved dogs that had passed.

I had a beautiful vision of her running with her pack…it was golden, it was ecstatic, it was as though they had never even left her, flying through the woods as one, always together. It still makes me smile even today. But before I saw and felt that, I saw her bent over her knees, vibrating so fast and chaotically, it seemed like she might tear apart. Her mother was there, her hand hovering over her back and it all felt wrong somehow.

I told her my vision, the resplendent one of her running with her pack, golden sunlight on her shoulders but I also told her about her mother and the chaotic vibration. I didn’t want to scare her, so I was gentle but I did feel that she should know.

A week or two later she died by her own hand. I am not close to the family or her circle of friends but it was devastating for them.

I’ve not known how to process this, what I saw and felt. It scared me to see her like that in my vision.

I have continued to work with the cards and connect to Spirit through meditation, visions and dreams but I have let this connection with the dead fade. I tried a few times after this experience to connect but was never able to and would usually just fall asleep.

Tonight, I am thinking of her and my calling to Spirit work.

I have been watching the documentary Surviving Death and it brought up all these feelings, confusion and pain over that experience, a calling to do healing work for others through Spirit. I watched the episode about Signs from the dead tonight and there was a moving part where the deceased son sent a message through a penny with his birth year on it. I finished the episode and started to write this post in hopes of working through some of these big emotions. I got most of it done before Agnes, my dear elderly kitty started walking across me to tell me that she was ready for dinner. When I came back there were little wet kitty paw prints leading right to a penny half under the sheet. I saw it and ruefully decided to look at the date. 1980, the year she was born.

Thank you dear friend, for your lovely sense of humor in showing me that penny and for your great kindness in thinking of me and making such an effort to bring me closure and comfort in this experience.

Journal: Waterfall

For two nights in a row I have dreamed of a specific waterfall.

It was on the side of a small mountain. It seemed to spring from the mountain itself, fell in a running cascade for a bit then sideways ran down the rocks. I was in a place like the Pacific Northwest, where it rained a lot and the trees grew tall and cone shaped. The waterfall was surrounded by dark green, on a charcoal grey rock face.

The sight of it brought me to tears and both times I saw it from the view of a wealthy woman’s house.

Journal: Black and white horses

I dreamed about a divine horse pair. The stallion was a large black friesen Percheron . The mare was a little smaller and white. I was walking them on a grass strip along a small road. They were wonderful. At one point, I could see my own hands reaching up as both muzzles crossed in front of me in an embrace.

Journal: War dream

I dreamed about being a large house, I think it was an orphanage or children’s home because all the children lived upstairs. An invading army came through, went upstairs and attacked the children. We couldn’t stop them. Many of the children were mutilated, in particular their legs. They had killed our horses too.

We helped the surviving children as well as we could. Bandaging them up, teaching them how to ride horses again so we could flee. This happened over a period of months so I think we were in hiding somewhere.

Many years later, I was working undercover for a company that was secretly funding the invading country. I was there with my best friend and confidante, a cranky skinny old woman. we were both very skinny. We only ate what we had to, and saved the rest for those who needed it. I was fussing at her, “have you eaten anything today at all?” and she would say yes, yes i have. “I don’t believe you, what have you eaten?” it was the end of the day, in the evening. “I had two stewed tomatoes earlier in the day!” she said hotly and i just shook my head because who can live on only two stewed tomatoes for the whole day?

At one point, I walked outside the building I worked in and there were gently rolling green hills all around and I remember thinking so this is what this area looked like before industrialization. So, I must have been lucid at this point. I saw a delivery truck pulling in and thought, maybe 1930s?

I woke up confused and realized I had been biting the inside of my cheek.

Journal: Erik Bear (Bjorn)

I went to my community meditation and was able to connect with one of my oldest and dearest Guides but one who I actually don’t know much about.

Northern lights.

Hug. Furs. Large, beard. He saw me with love but he also saw his wife, me from a past life.

I hugged him, he held me close under his chin. He was easy, comfortable, mine. I knew he was brutal too though. Not to me but in life.

I asked him about tarot reading and he reminded me that I was a village wise woman. I could see myself through his eyes, messy dirty blond hair, the dress. I wasn’t necessarily a high ranking shaman or mystic but the people in my village often came to me for spiritual help. The Lynx was my guide, my companion in that life.

He gave me an amethyst ball. He said to look to the northern lights when I needed to connect, that they were a path to him and this lifetime.

Journal: Rose Bush

We planted our rose bush before our daughter was born.

I had a dream I was sitting under the rose bush, the leaves are starting to come out but not full yet. I was talking to it, so happy and loving that the vines I had rooted were taking root. Worms, sitting close to the thorns, watching the worms and all that rich dirt. My daughter was sitting above me looking down, she was little, toddler age and her boots were supported against the rose bush. It was such a sweet moment.

Journal:Amethyst dreams

In my twenties, I dreamed that I was walking through the woods and there were small streams of amethyst with larger crystal structures around. It was enchanting and I woke up feeling their magick and beauty. I’ve never forgotten that dream.

In another dream I had last year, my house had a high dome ceiling and it was wonderful to fly and not worry about other people seeing me. Usually in my dreams, I can fly very high and wherever I want but I have to stay hidden from other humans. When I landed I found a quiet corner and there was a tall amethyst rock, like a geode, grey on the outside, that cracked vertically. I took the pieces apart like a puzzle and inside were thin sheets of amethyst. I held them up to the light and sang to them. My voice was their voice. I was an amethyst fairy. It felt wonderful…light and sweet, kind and centered.  

Journal: Cougar Vision

The night before last I pulled the Cougar card for my psychic journey. Before sleep, I had a vision that Bast, the great cougar swallowed me up and released me into the cosmos. At first, I thought why am I here, what am I here to learn? Then, I became my Isa aquamarine dragon and soared higher, farther. When I got far out into the stars, I settled in and just floated, enjoying the quiet of thinking and doing nothing.