THE WITCH'S CORNER

Upon this page I've recorded my dreams-- at least some of them.  When I started recording dreams I was both intrigued and appalled at how much they reveal about a person's nature, that dark inner side that we don't like to share with anyone and usually try to deny to ourselves.

 If you don't now, I hope at some point you begin keeping a dream journal.  You will be amazed at how much you will learn about yourself.

 (Turn off the background music at the bottom of this page.)

Reincarnation:
Past Life Dreams

June 2007

I've been dreaming about three classmates from high school. And after having dreams about them for several nights, I became aware of them in my waking moments. They seemed to be stuck in my mind and wouldn't leave. The essences of their personalities was unbelievably strong; it was as if I could actually "feel" them around me. This had been going on for a few weeks.

It didn't stop until I consciously banished them.

Come to find out, something has happened to two of them. I have no contact with anyone who is even in contact with the third one. But I would love to find out some way...

1) Sean F.-- a mean, nasty, horrid school bully. He made life miserable and unbearable for the bulk of the student body. He invaded my dreams and my waking conscious mind for so many days that I deliberately called D.M. in South Dakota and asked her about him...He was killed in a motorcycle accident on a curve at Lake Mitchell, by the Indian excavation site.

2) Debbie S.-- Debbie was married to my first husband's friend; but I had met her in high school and we had become best friends before I ever met her husband or my future husband. I learned a bitter lesson in "friendship" from Debbie when she showed up in court with my first husband to show him "support" during the divorce.

Again, it began with the dreams and the feeling of her "presence", her personality around me during waking hours. I called B.K. in South Dakota and asked her how Debbie was doing...She died from a bowel obstruction. "She still had all that long blond hair." B. said.

3) Randy K.-- was the first boy I ever had a crush on in Junior High School. He had a horrible personality, was mean, abusive, and devastatingly handsome. Fortunately for me, he couldn't stand me and was rude, insulting, obnoxious and never asked me out. He was known in later years for using and abusing girlfriends. He had quite a reputation, and it wasn't good.

Again, as with the other two, it began with dreams and then the essence of his personality around me so thick and threatening you could cut it with a knife. Did something happen to him too?

 I was in a restaurant full of white-haired women and I was one of them!  I had on a pink sweater and white slacks, my makeup and jewelry and my hair (white) was well done.  I got up from my table, my coffee cup in hand and headed over to a table where two ladies were seated, deep in conversation.

They stopped talking and looked up at me expectantly.

 I said, “Come here, dear.”

 And a little girl about three years old came out from beneath the table where she had been playing with the mini-blind cords.

 The woman said, “Oh, how cute!  Your granddaughter?”

 I replied, “No, that’s my daughter.  I’m her mother.”

 They looked quite shocked and one of them said, “Oh my, women our age don’t have babies, dear!”

 

I only remember snatches of this dream:

It’s a rodeo.  I seem to be observing it while hovering above it.  This is an unusual view for me.

 A young woman is “demonstrating” the abilities of a “rescue horse”.  She’s lying on the ground and the horse rolls over her, stopping just before it reaches her face.

 It then gets up, walks around to the front of the woman.  The woman reaches up, grabbing the horse’s tail in her hand.  It walks out of the arena, dragging her gently along behind it.

 In this dream, I actually don’t see any of the characters.  There is an unusual light, dark, hazy, with a “glow” at the same time.

 The land looks barren—all dirt, almost like desert or wasteland, not even a blade of grass.  There is a high, flat ridge with a gorge behind it.  Then there is another gorge and then another high flat ridge beyond it, where it dips down again.  The landscape is surreal, almost computer generated.

 I don’t know how I know, but there are two opposing armies camped here.  One at the base of one ridge and another at the base of the other ridge. 

 There is a prisoner in the first camp.  I don’t “see” this character either.  Sometimes I sense him; sometimes I hear what he is thinking, and sometimes I think it might be myself!

 This prisoner is going to escape from the camp he’s in, quietly, while everyone is sleeping, and work his way to the top of the first ridge—down into the gorge—to the top of the second ridge, and down again where his own people are camped.

 All I ever see in this dream is the barren landscape.

 We had ordered food from a fast food place and are walking through the kitchen to leave.  It’s filthy, more like the kitchen in some medieval castle, except there are stainless steel counters throughout. 

There are cats everywhere—up on the counter tops, eating food lying about—yuk!

 I say, “I can’t believe we got food here!”

 There is one person back there...a tiny, very old woman with wild unkempt black and gray hair.  She’s wearing a long lavender dress and house slippers on her feet.  She’s slightly bent over and she’s talking intently to a large orange and white cat who is eating the remains of a hamburger on top of a table.

 Some kind of animal ate a snake—a reptilian animal of some kind, I think.  My grandmother (who is deceased in real life) was trying to “squeeze” the snake out of the other animal.

At one point the back end of the snake shot out of the animal’s mouth, surprising both of us!  My grandmother said, “Oh, that’s too much snake for me!”  But she continues to work to get the rest of the snake out.

 Once it’s out, the little snake seems very tired and spent and limp.  We put it in a small cage with a towel to lie on.  I have to go somewhere and I’m very worried about leaving it alone.  We decide to set the cage in a darkened hallway where it will be cool.

 I’m working in the basement of my grandmother’s house, dusting, I think.  I am somehow aware that there is something evil down there with me.  This evil thing is going to do harm to a woman in the house unless I can figure out how to get rid of it before midnight.

As I’m looking through a Craft book, trying to find a way to banish this evil thing, the lights go out and the room is black.

 I hear a rustling on the bed in the room.  Something is there and I feel it’s the evil thing.  Although I am afraid; I don’t run away.  I make my way over to the bed, book still in hand, and jiggle the light until it comes on.

 I find myself sitting on the bed with a huge gray and tan cat.

 I am afraid that this cat is really a demon, not a cat at all. It works its way around to the foot of the bed and starts to sharpen its claws.

 As I’m looking at the cat, I see movement out of the corner of my eye--  a leopard stealthily starting up the basement steps.

 I think to myself—“Oh, it’s the leopard that is the demon and not the cat!”

My father-in-law passed away in mid-June.  He was a very controlling manipulative man.  When he died, my husband and I were estranged from him.  In my lifetime I have experienced contact with people who have passed over.  I knew that this man would come.  I just didn’t know how long it would take him to get his bearing in his new plane of existence.  I was expecting him...

 July 1, 2008

 In this dream—

 I and my husband’s family were in some kind of ‘house’—I don’t know if it was a country club (that’s kind of what it felt like), a funeral home, or what.  There were large, spacious rooms, people milling about, mostly family.  A kitchen area was along side these rooms—a galley kitchen.  You could walk in one end and walk out the other.

 My husband and I were in the kitchen together for a few minutes.  I think we were slightly peeved with each other for some reason.  On leaving the kitchen, my husband went into one of the spacious living rooms to watch TV, and I turned to the right and went into another.

 One of my brother-in-laws, P_____, was in this room with several other people.  He was sitting on a tan couch.  There was no where to sit, everything was occupied.  He tapped the couch between his knees and said, “Sit on the floor, over here, by me.”

 So I went and sat on the floor, leaning up against the couch between P_____’s legs.  There was something that felt uncomfortably intimate about this situation, but I wasn’t sure why.  There was no reason, at that moment in my dream, to feel that way.

 Not too much later, I was hungry and thirsty, so I got up and walked through the kitchen, coming out at the other end, where there was a small table of food and drinks sat up.

 This table was in a smaller nook at the end of the kitchen where a dining table sat, and several men were seated around it playing cards.  My father-in-law was one of these men.

 When he saw me at the small table of food, he gathered the cards up and rose from his chair, coming over to me, extending his hand.  I thought he wanted to shake hands, so I extended my hand and he took it in his.

 In a flash of a split second, I knew I had made a mistake.  He didn’t want to shake my hand—he began squeezing it, gradually, fiercely, the look in his eyes evilly gleeful.  He was enjoying what he was doing with unabashed devilish delight.

 The strangest thing about this dream is that I knew within that split second that I was dreaming and I knew, within that dream that I was going to have to snatch my hand away before he could really hurt me.  I looked into his eyes and I said, “You bastard!”, letting him know that I knew what he was up to.  And I snatched my hand away at the last second, just before his grip would’ve tightened and I wouldn’t have been able to get loose.

 The irony of this dream doesn’t end here.  When I told my husband about this dream—and the fact that I was expecting his father’s spirit to manifest here in some way—he told me that he had dreamed of his father on the same night.  In his dream, his father is sitting on a bench talking quietly and calmly to him.  My husband told me that my father-in-law left a message for me—he said to tell me that he apologized.

 Chilling is the only way I can describe this dream.

I see this dream through a woman’s eyes.  I’m there, inside her body, but I’m not her; and in this dream I realize that.  I’m ‘along for the ride’, so to speak.

Her husband is a man with serious emotional problems.  He has a ‘good’ side and a ‘bad’ side. The bad side will try to talk the good side into performing acts of deviance, including murder.  The victims are children, little girls.  This wife is aware of her husband’s actions, sickened by them; but she does not go to the police—which I found perplexing.  I think she’s afraid.

 In my dream, the couple is at home with their children.  I didn’t see their faces clearly, but I believe they are little girls, two or three of them, from six to ten years old.  The man had been arguing between his two selves and the ‘bad’ side had won. 

 His daughters were having one of their friends coming over to play, and he prepared for this little girl’s visit.  All the while the wife is watching, knowing what’s going to happen.  I’m inside her body and I’m aware of her thoughts:  she doesn’t want this to touch her children and affect their lives, she feels empathy for the child who will be her husband’s next victim, and she’s struggling within herself to gain control.

 Finally, the doorbell rings and the young visitor is let into the house.

 The man sits on a large overstuffed chair.  He’s calm and unperturbed; and in his lap he holds a dark cloth folded into a square, on top of which are a blindfold and a long silver chain—like the kind you would see in the dog section of pet supplies.

 The couple’s daughters greet their guest and then the man says in a very casual, friendly tone, “Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me?”  And the little girl bounces over and perches on the arm of the chair, smiling and completely oblivious to the danger so close at hand.

 She’s about 6-8 years old.  She has on pink slacks and a light grey jacket; very sandy blond/brown hair to her shoulders, with the top part pulled back and held with a pink ribbon.

 The man’s wife watches from another chair and suddenly she rises, breaching the small gap between herself and her husband.  She reaches down for the pile of cloth and chain that he holds in his hands and she takes a hold of it, looking him in the eye, she says with a very distinctive voice, ripe with warning in it:  “We’re just going to have a nice, quiet visit today.”

 It was at this point that my youngest daughter woke me out of this dream by knocking on my bedroom door. 

 The night of November, 8, 2008

 A house...

 The neighborhood in my dream looked a lot like the Mitchell, South Dakota, neighborhood I grew up in.  I suddenly remembered that we had bought a house a block or two down the street from ours—and then we forgot about it!

 I walked down to look at this house:

 It was a nice, white, clapboard house, probably built in the 50s or 60s.  I admired the *huge* main floor laundry room carpeted in shades of soft green/gray, with a tall floor-to-ceiling cupboard built into the wall beside the washer and dryer.

 I then went to the bedrooms:

 The people who had lived here were a large family with lots of kids.  There were a couple spacious bedrooms filled with white wooden bunk beds.  I was learning information about this family as I explored, but I was alone.  I was gleaning this information apparently through clairvoyant and clairsentient thoughts.

 I suddenly knew that one of the children was a 17 year old boy whose single bed was set off separately from the bunks in one of the bedrooms.  At the end of his bed was a large glass-doored cupboard—a gun cabinet.  I tried to open it and found it locked.  I had a key in my hand, but I flipped a switch on the side and the cupboard door automatically opened.

 I was surprised at the array of weapons it contained.  Gingerly, I picked one of the handguns up and examined it for a minute.  I know nothing about firearms and couldn’t tell anyone what kind was in this collection, but I suspected some of them were antique and others may be automatic weapons, and there were rifles as well as handguns.

 I had a tremendous feeling of foreboding and dread.  I suddenly knew that the guns had something to do with this family’s disappearance.  Both the guns and the teenage boy had something to do with this family's disappearance.

 The family, I realized, had either disappeared under terrible circumstances or had fled the house in a frantic rush.

 I spent time wandering through the large living room, looking at things.  There was an eerie silence about the room and the shadowed corners, and the emptiness.  There was a TV against one wall, a corner knickknack shelf—on the top shelf I saw an all white statuette that looked like the Virgin Mary.

 Then I went to the bedrooms again and sat on one of the bottom bunks.  I noticed that some of the beds had been stripped of bedding, the bare mattresses exposed;  and other bunks were messy, as though someone had just crawled out of bed.  For some reason this gave me an ominous, sinking feeling.

 I sat there debating what to do about the house—keep it or resell it?  I found myself thinking of the previous owners—the family, almost able to see the members as a group in my mind’s eye.

The music on this page:  "Spirit Wind"

by:  David R. Maracle

CD:  Spirit Wind-- Native American Flute