Angelic Dreams

When I was a little girl, I woke up one night to see that I was hovering over my bed. A light came down the hallway, and into my room. It was an Angel. She called herself Soveseve, and she was blue with long flowing silver hair. She told me I was special, I was different. She told me that I would restore balance to the world.

My parents convinced me that I had dreamed this.

A couple years ago, when I was in college, the Angels came back. They came to my room night after night. There were scores of them this time, not just the blue one. These Angels looked more like men, but they glowed with an unnatural light. When they showed up they would fill the room with music, it was horrible and beautiful and I couldn't move to get away from it. I covered my ears with my pillow, but it was no use. The leader of these Angels identified himself as Gabriel. He looked like a scruffy middle-aged dude, nothing special, but he was surrounded by a powerful white light.

Gabriel told me I was different, he said I had a purpose in this world. I rejected him. I didn't want a mission from God. I didn't want to be special. Hell, I'm not even a Christian, I'm a Wiccan. What could the angels possibly want with me?

I was determined that these Angels were dreams, blinding, deafening dreams. I rejected them. I refused to listen. I cursed their presence. But they persisted, they came back night after night, while I lay powerless and frightened in my bed.

The last night that the Angels came something strange happened. I knew they were coming and somehow, I left my body. I was hovering above my bed and looked down and could see my lifeless body on my bed below. I saw Gabriel stand next to my bed, but I couldn't hear the music or see the blinding light, it was dark. I felt red hot rage boil within me, I hated him. I swooped down and grabbed the Angel's throat. I seamed to have claws. I ripped out a warm chunk of flesh, and silvery blood sprayed everywhere. I looked at my hand, and the flesh that it held, and in that moment I knew that there were more Angels, and that I could destroy each and every one of them. I whipped the bloody flesh across my chest to mark myself with his blood, and then screamed out into the darkness, challenging any other Angels who dared to take me on. None came, so I flew out my window in search of them, fueled with fire and rage and thirsty for more blood.

The night was dark, silent, and still. There were no more Angels present for me to kill. Gradually my anger diminished, and I returned to my room, and to my body. I awoke completely bewildered.

The Angels didn't come back after that. But my curiosity has not ceased. Were these episodes just vivid dreams or something more? Did I kill an Angel? What purpose did they have in mind for me? Was my mission withdrawn after my act of violence?

I continued to study wicca, and tried to write the angels off as dreams. I learned the art of shamanic journey, and met guides and goddesses. In my mind's eye I saw visions of Ishtar, and swam the cool waters of the Underworld with my faithful Koi-fish guide. I ran through the woods of the middle realms with my Guide the Fox, and I soared up to the astral on the wings of another Guide, Heron. But in my travels, I was always careful not to ask about the Angels, or their plan for me. I have ever avoided discussing that night that I ripped Gabriel's throat out and marked myself with his blood.

The time has come though to face these old frightening visions. Tonight I plan to go into a trance, and ask my guides the questions I have long avoided. I feel something big is coming, and it frightens me. I think I was supposed to do something important, but I can't quite think of what it was. For the last three years I have felt this nagging pull on my subconscious, like I've left the oven on.

So here goes. Wish me luck I guess.