I was in something like a cavern, descending, it seemed forever when at last the tunnel leveled out, opening into a wider space. It was at first dark, requiring some time before I could see clearly.
When at last I regained my vision, I could see that I was in a throne room, jewels flashed dimly on the walls, the floor was made of glass, and a chair was on a platform at the far end of the room from me.
Everything in this dream came into focus very slowly. It required sustained concentration on my part to gain a clear view of the object of my vision. Therefore, I couldn’t see clearly at first who or what was on the throne. I could only see that there was something there, and that it required my presence and my full attention.
I drew closer in curiosity, but also with awe. I knew somehow that I was about to be shown something of crucial importance to my life. As I drew nearer, the atmosphere became more charged.
Now I could see who it was on the throne. It stood straight up, looking like a giant worm or serpent, with a skin of flesh It had one eye. It bent over to look closely at me, and I was afraid I would be devoured.
I instinctively knew what it was that was seeing me, and that I was being chosen, for what I didn’t know.
The only thing I was certain of was that this encounter had to be kept secret, and it remained so for many years.
I was about six years old when I had this dream. It wasn’t my only experience of God, but it was the first one that I was aware of. I learned from this that there were at least two aspects of God. There was the God of light, the God who was present in Sunday School. But there was also this God who dwelt in the darkness, who threatened to devour me,which thought created a response of fear and desire that threatened to overwhelm me.
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this experience put the lie to all the pious mumbo jumbo that I had been taught. The was the jealous God, the God that desired me, and this stirred my desire for Him.
I knew that this experience could not be shared with the adults in my life, because it removed me from their control. Parents don’t want to hear about it when a child encounters God in the “cleft of the rock”. I knew even then that adults used God as a fiction to make children mind. The God of my family had nothing to do with this dark and somewhat sinister God of the deep places of the earth.
It was a long time before I could put all these things into words, but just like I knew in that dream, it’s been with me ever since.

Be loved,




  1. Scott Says:

    I love the blending of masculine and feminine. You speak of things I have thought of time from time. My god hangs in my bedroom. And since god is in man, he is my alterego

  2. Lemuel Says:

    I found two of your statements very intriguing.

    In the one as you, speak of realizing “two aspects of God”, you state that the “…thought created a response of fear and desire that threatened to overwhelm me.” I cannot help but ask if you have ever worked through the question of “why the fear?” Was it the imagery that was a part of your dream? Was it an understanding of being in the presence of the “wholely other”?

    In the second you state that this “was the jealous God, the God that desired me, and this stirred my desire for Him.” Are you familiar with the poem/hymn “I sought the Lord and afterward I knew”? – or the poem “The Hound of Heaven”? I find interesting parallels between your conclusion and in the thoughts of many that, as we seek God, we discover that he has been seeking us. It is reflected (in a more benign manner in the Christian scriptures) by the theme of the father waiting for the first son in the familiar story of the Prodigal Son.

    BTW, it was an interesting choice of image below the post, too.

  3. tornwordo Says:

    He’s always got blinding love in mine. And a long white beard. I’m never afraid.

    Have you read any Tom Harmer books?

  4. Kalvin Says:

    You and Scott have such personal views on faith that I really enjoy hearing about. I think there is something “terrible” about these thoughts of god, but I think that’s part of what makes it exciting–a contrast to the passionless god that is so rarely portrayed but so often extolled.

  5. Em Says:

    That fear. Was it a choking fear? It reminds me of the night mare that Robert Graves describes in The White Goddess. A fear of which I’m very familiar.

    Also, there is the image in native american spirituality (and I’m guessing others) of being devoured by the spirit and then re-born (but not really re-born. Born differently.) You know, consumed…

    As I gain experience in mystical spirituality, I increasingly hear people say, “They want something too. They want to help, but you have to give them something in return.”

    I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just know that your post here rings true to me. I have always felt that I have to give away my… well, it is probably ego, but it feels like pretty important parts of me in order to connect to that other place. There is a viceral fear there, for me that if I don’t go in with the right tools chances of survival are slim.

    You know, it was the earth who saved me from the crazy religion of my youth. It sounds to me like she (it) saved you too.

    PS Do you do any specific spiritual work? Are you aware of all the bear stuff? You must be. There is a lovely bear story that is a young adult novel. It is called BearDance. Will Hobbs.

  6. Enemy of the Republic Says:

    Jung would go nuts with this dream story. I think it taps into our collective unconscious in a big way, almost primally. It touches me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: