We are our ancestors' wildest dreams.
As this gentle ancestor stares into that place called 'middle distance,' I wonder what she's seeing..... who she's listening for....
In my quiet lucid dream state, I rest on a bench beside her. She turns her head slightly, slides her eyes in my directions. The corners of her mouth barely turn up. Then she returns to her vague focus stare.
"What do you see, Grandmother?" I whisper.
"You, my child."
I blink, turn my head to see what she sees. A shadow-child slips across my field of vision. I blink again... and it's gone.
"How can you see me there when I am here beside you?"
"It is you ~ and not you, my darling. It is a wild dream of one who is to come. One who will heal the lineage from which she came. One who will dare to bring about the deepest and most necessary soul changes."
I was afraid to speak lest I jar her from her vision .... which is what I realized she was in. There was still more to come. I could see it in her eyes, clear and keen; in her posture, body alert and forward; in the way she held her head, tipped ever-so-slightly to one side as if listening for something.
A barking laugh emerged from her. After a pause, another. Then she lifted her head and a full, deep, extended belly laugh bubbled out of her. I smiled as I sat beside her, infected with the joy she was expressing.
"There are many of you, child. Many who will carry forth the life of our people as they walk on this earth. It brings me great joy to see their wild dancing selves! They laugh, play, love, wander. All the phases of life and earth bloom within them. Nothing grows without them."
I wanted to ask how she knew this. I wanted to tell her I understood. I wanted to run and hide. So much was in her vision of the world. How could I live up to her expectations?
As though she read my thoughts, she said, "It is not only you, child. It is all my children and my children's children and my children's children's children on and on and on. That's what brings me joy. Because it also brings me hope."
I sat beside her for awhile longer. Quiet, reflective. One moment I was aware of her at my elbow, the next my head was jerking up as though from dozing. The old woman was gone. My memory of her was clear yet ever so slowly fading. I found myself staring into that same middle distance she did ~ and wondering when I would be old enough and wise enough to see the way she saw.
What would your ancestor look like? How would you be with them? What does your dreaming self hear them say? How do you express being your ancestors' wildest dream? How would you like to dream your children's and children's children's worlds?