I was meditating in the outside meditation garden at Edgar Cayce’s ARE. The last time I was there in November, I had snuck up to the meditation room on the third floor. I ignored the notice to not go up there. The shop and library were open to the public. I did not understand why the meditation room was out of bounds. The beautiful white and purple crystal type rock cut stones and the monster lapis blue stone from Tibet and the ocean in the distance twinkling were a gift to me. I dreamed once that a huge underground lake underlaid the whole area there. I had a beautiful meditation.

While on the third floor, meditating, I got the idea I had better finish up and sure enough a tall man with a cross face stood over and pointed his finger at me. I asked him if he had a dream. He said he did not and he escorted me off the premises. I had to do a little praying to right myself up again feeling attacked by this volunteer overseeing little old ladies like me.  This visit I heard the meditation room was being redone so I stayed outside. 

As I sat over the goldfish pond, and opened my eyes, I was looking at two trees, covered in blooms, one of red and one of pink. And flying among the blooms was a very small hummingbird, with my eyes just catching the glitter of its green and red coloring. I was very surprised as it was into the third week in December and this little bird had not gone south yet. Perhaps the many blooms were delaying the bird. Maybe it stayed to help with meditators in the garden. 

I had a beautiful silent time and as I finished up with taking pictures of the blooms, I saw a middle aged woman walk up the path nearby to another building. She was dressed in a smart black coat and long black boots. Her hair was cut in a short boyish cut with a smart fringe falling over her forehead. 

When she came back down those steps, I was already putting on my bike helmet and as is my habit, (I was almost in her way,) I asked her for a dream. She paused, put her feet together, her arms at her side and looked up toward the sky, and said, “Okay then, I do have a dream image for you from last night” She pulled out her black face mask looked into her consciousness and started with” I dreamed I was sitting in a group of five, some from work, including my boss, who said nothing.”

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“I knew what I wanted to say, but no matter how I tried I could not find the right words. Then one of the men, who sat beside me let me know that he knew exactly what I wanted to say, but he could not find the words either.”

I asked her if she meditated. She replied she did not, found it hard to still herself, was too “flighty.” She followed with “But I am always “on” as I am a Reike Grand Master and my hands get hot and then I know there is someone nearby who needs my help.” 

She felt the dream was telling her that something has to change at work. She did not pin it down for me and we talked about being able to find the right something to facilitate this change? We chatted a bit more about the inner man helping her but neither of them finding the right word. I suggested she meditate for the number of minutes that corresponded with her age. She said she was now seventy. I was surprised as I thought she looked fifty at most. 

It seemed time for her to go, and she wished she could hug me, as she walked toward me. Then she came behind me, with my permission, and looped her arms around my shoulders, with her heart, her front against my heart my back. It was a delicious backwards hug. 

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I asked if her hands were hot now. There was a pause before she said, “Well yes” We broke apart laughing. It was a marvelous bit of humor, and I do consider that she brought healing to me in ways I know not of. God’s blessings come in many different forms. 

When I had an osteopathic adjustment at the Spa, the practitioner was very interested in my dream interpretation and noted that in the Grecian Temples, treatment was based on dreams. People came to sleep at the temples and their dreams were given to the priests of the temples to figure out ways to heal them and the treatments were based on the dreams. He gave a little bow to me as he called me “priest.” My mother once said she saw the priest in me. 

I personally believe that if we ask our dreams for such help, it will be given to us. The voice of our Maker can be heard in our dreams. Believing that this can happen, as well as asking for help is key. 

I wish you a Happy Holidays. Look for your individual relationship to Spirit, keep hammering away until you have distilled a concept of your link to your Maker. This is where happiness comes from.

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As I keep splicing into my prayers to connect me to ‘where I come from’ as I still my body, my mind and my heart, I can feel those promptings from the heart, toward peace, patience, love and understanding that belongs to where I come from, from my Maker.

Feel that pouring forth in the stillness, until that river of pure crystal flows and what was rock solid becomes flowing down all around you. (A young woman client told me that she felt this in a meditation recently.) I had this experience many years ago and wrote a poem about it saying “water falling down a dress.” The image came to me while meditating in my sunroom in Belmont about thirty years ago. Love from Rose.