Notes From A Dream

The following was taken from notes I made after having a particularly confusing dream.

A ship at sea. Freighter. Old and rusty. Seas were rough. Storm. Ship tossing and heaving. Dozens of people in the hold of the ship. Asians from many different countries. They’d all paid for passage to America, and found themselves in the hands of wicked men. Economic slavers. People were dying. Not enough food. They were locked in the hold and couldn’t get out. Could only hope to survive long enough to get to America. Some believed beyond hope that they’d actually be able to work off that contract they’d signed which would bind them to these men years. Can still smell the sweat, urine and vomit.

Above, the ship was taking a beating. There was a discussion on the bridge about the possibility of abandoning ship. It was an ancient ship, and the captain was afraid it would break up in the powerful ocean swells. They’d already made a nice profit from the thousands of dollars they’d taken from each of their passengers. Losing them would be a loss, because they’d get more upon delivery. But realistically, they’d already come out pretty good. This was the argument between the captain and some of the others. Enough Money versus More Money.

Their argument was interrupted by a searing bright light. White. Like the Goddess herself had reached down through the heavens. It was a general glow at first, but coalesced into a blinding beam of light that flashed and connected to the deck at the bow of the ship, like a laser beam, but as intense as a lightning strike.

When the flash was gone, a woman stood on the bow of the ship. She was luminous from some kind of inner light, like a living beacon. Wore a white dress with long, flowing sleeves the billowed out behind her. Though the ship was pitching up and down and rolling from side to side, she never faltered or was thrown overboard. Even when the waves crashed over the bow of the ship upon her, when the water receded, there she stood.

“The savagery of men is ending,” she called out in a loud, clear voice. Almost like it was in your head. Everyone on the bridge heard her, though there was no way they could have from where she was. “I bring justice.”

She started walking across the deck of the ship toward the bridge. As she did so, the hull of the ship disintigrated behind her, the metal of the plating blowing away in the wind like dust. The captain sent out men with machine guns to kill her, but he knew they were already lost with the whole front bow of the ship gone. His men fired at the woman, but their bullets never reached her, dropping away long before ever hitting her. So they could only watch in horror as she approached them and the ship disappeared behind her.

A few men stood their ground as she approached. She smiled serenely at them, and touched each one. As she did so, they vaporized and drifted away like dust on the winds. Each time she touched one of them, she said “You are impure”.

She continued through the entire ship like that, killing all of the crewmen. When she reached the hold, she soothed the terrified captives, but killed some of them, those who had preyed upon their fellow prisoners. The hull of the ship completely disintigrated, and the woman and the captives where left floating above the heaving waters in a luminous bubble.

I saw this last part as a survivor. A man, trying to stay afloat in the rough seas. I watched as the woman’s sphere rose higher above the waters. Lights broke through the angry clouds above her, and then the shapes of large craft of some sort came down through the clouds. Immense shapes, like flying aircraft carriers. I watched the sphere rise up and enter into one of the crafts, then the ship, for lack of a better word, rose up through the clouds.

A small light broke away from the second ship as it also rose into the clouds and darted toward me. As it approached, I realized it was an aircraft of some kind. But small. Not much bigger than a car, but zipping around like a dragonfly. It came to me and hovered above me, and I thought I was going to be saved. But its canopy opened and a woman in some kind of armor stepped out upon one wing. She was bald except for a long pony-tail that came from the back of her head. She crouched and looked down at me.

“Thought we’d forgotten you?” she asked me. She balled her hand into a fist, which she pointed in my direction. Energy crackled around her wrist and I could smell ozone building. As a wave of white fire danced around her hand, I realized she was going to kill me. “The time of men is ending.”

The energy flashed from her hand, and I was immediately awake, sitting on the side of my bed, gasping for my breath. In that animal moment when you first wake up and you’re driven by nothing but instinct, I knew in my heart that if that blast had reached me, I would really have died. It took a few moments for that panic to pass, and I wound up sitting in here, typing away on the computer, trying to get my heart rate to go back down.

Some of my Pagan friends might think this was a dream about the Goddess. The White Lady and all that. But what would the Goddess need of ships? Much less soldiers in armor who could blast energy from their hands? Maybe that’s what upset me most. It all seemed so frighteningly real. But I have no references that could account for these images. Much less the horror that they triggered in me.

Which, of course, is why I’m writing this. I want to remember it. Somehow it seemed important. I imagine I’ll be thinking about this for days to come, trying to figure out whatever symbolic meaning that it had. What is my subconscious trying to tell me?

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About Claire

Claire Mulkieran is rumored to be a glorified computer programmer by trade, but you can call her a “Systems Security Designer.” She's also a teacher of Pagan-related spirituality and the unofficial patron saint of meandering misfits (or a delusional lunatic, depending upon whom you ask). If you're ready to read between the lines, consider her guiding motto; "Are you a figment of my imagination, or am I a figment or yours?"
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