My grandfather visited me in a dream...
I was standing in a bustling and cavernous train station, looking at a schedule. It was evening, and golden light was slanting in across the marble floor of the echoing concourse, as people went busily about, locating their iron horses. To my left I heard an old man's gentle voice asking about the stops a train would be making. He sounded a little confused. Two female train attendants dressed smartly in blue wool dress suits and pill box hats stood by the man where he sat, answering his scheduled stop questions. I looked over and realized it was my Baba.
I walked over to where he sat, not more than 10 steps away. "Baba?" I asked. Baba looked over, and his pale blue eyes lit up with that mischievous sparkle I always knew and loved. His face exploded into a smile, and he called my name out in his thick Danish accent, lifting his arms to me, inviting me into his embrace. I leaned in and hugged him tightly where he sat so distinguished, our faces pressing up against one another, holding each other like we'd never let go. I angled my face and kissed his left cheek, and told him that I love him, as the tears began to roll from my eyes.
I woke to the dark of our room, but I could still feel his arms around me, I could still feel our cheeks pressed to one another.
I walked over to where he sat, not more than 10 steps away. "Baba?" I asked. Baba looked over, and his pale blue eyes lit up with that mischievous sparkle I always knew and loved. His face exploded into a smile, and he called my name out in his thick Danish accent, lifting his arms to me, inviting me into his embrace. I leaned in and hugged him tightly where he sat so distinguished, our faces pressing up against one another, holding each other like we'd never let go. I angled my face and kissed his left cheek, and told him that I love him, as the tears began to roll from my eyes.
I woke to the dark of our room, but I could still feel his arms around me, I could still feel our cheeks pressed to one another.
Connecting with and paying homage to our ancestors via ritual is part of many magical and cultural traditions.
Although invoking one's ancestors while in sacred space has a long history that spans both time and cultural heritage, it has not been a part of my spiritual practice until very recently. When a friend shared her method of inviting her ancestors into her sacred circle, I realized that this was a component that I too, would like to include in my practice. Bringing this tradition into my practice at the time of the year when the veil is at it's thinnest, and when the moon was still new was fortuitous timing. That there was an incubation period of 10 nights between the completion of the ritual and my grandfather coming to visit is something I have not yet put research into, altho I am curious as to whether there is any numerological significance to this timing. The setting of the train station - a point of transfer and transition - makes crystal clear sense to me. The very visceral emotion, physical contact, and having my name spoken while looking directly into one another's eyes goes beyond any dreamtime visitation I have ever experienced. I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to tell my grandfather how much I love him. It's an interesting experience balancing such a depth of loss and pain alongside such heights of recognition and love.
Thank you for the visit, Baba. Please come and see me again soon. You and the rest of my honoured kin that have gone before me are always welcome to join me in my circle, now and forevermore.
Thank you for the visit, Baba. Please come and see me again soon. You and the rest of my honoured kin that have gone before me are always welcome to join me in my circle, now and forevermore.