The Spirit Covenant, Changing the Past, and a Leap of Faith

Wall hanging

If I’d had any of these dreams individually, despite being chock-full of symbolism, I probably wouldn’t have bothered writing about them. But put back to back over the last two nights they make for an interesting combination and an intriguing string of potential messages and glimpses into spiritual locales. The three big ones in chronological order, but a brief fourth:

THE SPIRIT COVENANT: This is definitely one where I wish that I remembered more details.  But the gist of the dream was that I was writing out pages of multiple promises and pacts that my spirit (or otherwise noncorporeal) guides and I were making with each other in regard to my spiritual work. Each page was one promise or pact that I would set to paper, and then on the very last page we all signed the sum of it – me with a pen, and the spirits’ names appearing on the page.

Then I thought of something to add – I don’t remember exactly what, but it had to do with how I would or would not write about my guides – and then said aloud to the air that since I added this page after they’d signed already, we should all sign off on the new item too, if they agreed. They did, their signatures appeared on the page one by one, and then mine joined them.

I don’t know if this was some kind of literal dream or not – but I certainly like to think so.

CHANGING THE PAST: I’m offered the chance to go back to my own past and talk to my younger self. My guide is someone I know in the dream but not in waking life; he warns me that he tried talking to his younger self but without any effect, yet offers to let me try anyway. So I say yes, and choose what time period I want to go to: when I’m 19. This would be right before I met the people who became most of my closest friends – encouraging my younger self to meet them – and a couple of years before I got into what became a really wretched relationship, so I wanted to warn my younger self away from this.

We overshoot, and wind up arriving at my house when I’m 16 instead. Furthermore, it’s early on a Sunday morning, and Younger Me isn’t even awake yet before needing to get up and go to church. I decide to try it anyway. My guide’s younger self had been startled and frightened by his older self’s appearance, he tells me, and wouldn’t even talk to Older Him. I figure (rightly as it turns out) that Younger Me won’t be too rattled by this thanks to all the science fiction he / we read. I go into the house armed with both “Here are things only you would know” answers along with pictures of the friends I want to ensure that he meets.

Here’s another part where I wish I remembered more detail; I don’t recall what I said, exactly, or his response. But I do remember that Younger Me’s response wasn’t promising. When I go back outside to meet my guide, I learn that nothing substantial changed – I did still meet my friends (some of the pictures I carried, though, are slightly altered, but not in a big way), but still also went into the disastrous relationship.

It turned out that Younger Me did believe me to a degree – but was naive. He simply couldn’t accept – as I wouldn’t have at that age – that someone who claimed to love him would intentionally be so manipulative and damaging. He would have (as I might have) gone into the relationship anyway, feeling that armed with foreknowledge, he could change things. In the dream, he didn’t.

Jane Roberts’ Seth insists that we can change the past…this is one thing I’m rather less certain about. Even if you’re able to try, I think your efforts are more likely to wind up the way this dream did.

A LEAP OF FAITH: I’m living in an apartment next to one where my sister and her kids live, which in turn is next to a suite where my mother lives. (I don’t remember if my father wasn’t there, or I just didn’t see him.) While in Mom’s suite I accidentally knock a couple of plastic cups out a window and watch them sail down to the cement patio a few stories below. So I head outside to go fetch them.

The back of the apartment is verdant, a wide swath of grass backing up to woods, much like the hotel at a state park where my family and I go every summer. In fact I realize at this point that the apartments are in a kind-of-fancy hotel. It occurs to me that I should give people my new address (I even got the address in the dream, though not the apartment number – I’d just moved in and didn’t remember it yet.) And then I took a step into active dreaming: I realized that this apartment was just in a dream, but that my waking home address is the real one.

Being active rather than lucid dreaming, I’m still wrapped up in the dream itself, and continue to retrieve the cups. Coming around the front of the hotel I see an urban landscape stretch out in front of me – utterly unlike the state park, and utterly unlike the old medium-sized town where I lived once that the hotel was supposedly in, but more like downtown Columbus, Ohio, where I spent a few days in a kind-of-fancy hotel last summer. The hotel was essentially a dividing line between rural and urban. I make a note of this in the back of my mind, then sift the cups out of a pile of other cups and random trash while a few dozen other people are milling about the patio.

This is when the active dreaming kicked in the hard way.

I head back for the hotel’s front door, stepping down off the patio to what I think is another step, realizing too late that this was actually a wall several stories high. I fall over the side but manage to grab the edge of the wall, and there I hang over apparent doom. I start to call for help…but then realize that since my real address is my waking address, this must be a dream. And if it’s a dream, I can let go of the wall and nothing will happen.

So after a few rapid heartbeats, I let go.

…And am surprised and relieved when instead of falling to my death, I drift down easily, almost casually. A few people glance my way, but nobody seems to think my floating to the ground is at all strange.

Once I touched down, as lightly as I’d been floating, I woke up.

This back-to-back combination is fascinating to me because it addresses, in a pretty big and obvious way, things that have been on my mind lately: My desire to do more spiritual work (with helpers corporeal and otherwise), recently inflamed wishing that there are some big things in my past that I wish I could change, and then the moment of active dreaming at a time I typically feel that I’m barely hanging on the edge of a high wall. (The last I note especially because lately my biggest waking concerns have tended to not bleed into my dreams – that hasn’t been the case for most of my life.)

Beyond that, I’ve noticed that the thread of my moving into new apartments has been showing up in my dreams lately too. I’ve been told that any kind of living space represents aspects of the dreamers themselves, but every apartment is different. The one above, as I said, was in a kind-of-fancy hotel. I was in that one alone, but near family. One recent dream had me in a more run-down place – to the point where the floor was crooked – alone except possibly for a roommate I didn’t know, though in a building that included shops catering to higher-income university students. Yet another was in the same university town but a nicer apartment, shared with my wife, with a back door opening to a patio that stretched out into a common grassy courtyard area. And then there was the apartment in my Purgatory dream, which included a roommate I hadn’t met and didn’t know, and where I’d be stuck for at least a few years.

There doesn’t seem to be any common theme in those apartment dreams except for one: The more people I know that I have close to me, especially family, the better the apartment. That stands to reason; I haven’t seen my family nearly as much as I’d like to, and visits with friends these days are practically non-existent. Overall life has been lonely lately for someone who loves spending time with loved ones.

The last dream only lasted for a moment and wasn’t anything like the previous three, but it’s almost unique. As I may have mentioned before, since moving out of my parents’ house my dreams are almost never set where I actually live in waking life, and if they are, the house looking like it does in waking life instead of a dreamscape version is almost nonexistent. I can count on one hand all the times in the last two decades that a dream was set in a version of my living space that looked like my living space. But a couple of nights ago, for just a moment, it did again.

A casual stroll at home: I was walking down the steps from my bedroom to my kitchen. By the time I reached the kitchen I heard a phone ringing in my bedroom – not my phone’s ring, but definitely coming from the bedroom. So I sprinted back up the stairs, into the bedroom…and woke up.

That was it, the whole dream. Once I woke up I checked my phone, but there was no waking call. So maybe I was running around out of body while asleep, just barely out of body since it was recognizably my bedroom, stairs, and kitchen – though that’s got me wondering who or what would have called me back, and why.

All in all, sleep has certainly been a lot more interesting lately.


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