Late June – Denver, Colorado
HAUNTED BY A DISTURBING DREAM, torrential rain beating down on my roof, I tossed restlessly in hand-to-hand combat with a demon invading my home. Booming thunder shook my cottage and, in the blustering torrent, the red maple tree outside thrashed against my four-foot-high garden window.
My twelve-year-old miniature schnauzer, Cabra, jumped up onto my double bed, stood over me and gurgled with concern. I immediately opened my eyes, sleepily reached up and snuggled her silky warmth into my arms. My neighbor’s porch light shone in through my small uncovered window high up over my bed in this old duplex in southeast Denver.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay,” I whispered comfortingly to my gray floppy-eared dog.
Cabra whimpered, trembled, and curled into my comforting arms.
With my motherly duties attended to, my thoughts returned to the haunting dream. Sensations of terror and struggling to escape still nagged at me. The lingering images of combating a demon still pervaded me. Survival had taken all the strength I could muster. I had won my freedom, my life, my soul; but only after a long and arduous battle. The demon’s grip on me was still palpable—as if he were real.
I knew this was a psychic dream—a warning dream—because it took place here in my own small home, not in some faraway dreamland; and also because premonitions were not new to me.
I shivered. The dream was real, all right. So had been the demon. I’d had many precognitive dreams in the past and, at some point, they had all come true. None ever like this one, though. I’d even battled demons in my dream body on behalf of lost souls and others unable to defend themselves in the twilight world. But none ever like this, and it had never been personal before. In the dream realm, I was a spiritual warrior. But I had never come face to face with a demon like this one, and never before had one sought me out. This was a new dilemma and I knew something quite unique was on the verge of happening in my life.
My skin goose-bumped like a dog’s hackles under attack, and I suddenly remembered: This was not my first dream like this. I’d had another just like it, last night. Identical. A demon trying to kill me—in the form of a vampire. And also another severe thunderstorm. Just like tonight.
I’d studied mysticism long enough to know I was in danger—but what could I do about it? It was only a dream, after all, and I had nothing to compare it to.
Nevertheless, I felt an alarm bell go off inside me and I knew, unequivocally, that such a dream was a dire warning to be taken quite seriously and that whatever these two dreams were forewarning would require all the protection and caution I could muster. I knew from seventeen years of mystical experiences that something ominous was approaching my life, right now. A sense of foreboding crawled through me, like a serpent seeking a place to rest, and I shivered.
Still damp from nervous perspiration, wearing a crumpled oversized blue T-shirt with the insignia OOBE, my own design for “out of body experience” that I’d worn once in a dream, I roused and sat up. After only three hours of sleep, I yawned and stretched my slender five-foot-six, one-hundred-twenty-pound body.
Barely awake, in this small room that was just wide enough for my double bed and dresser, I slipped my bare feet to the floor, into my gray Walmart fleece slippers. At the foot of the bed, I opened my teeny closet, pulled my blue terrycloth robe off the door hook and put it on against the two a.m. chill. Then I padded through my small living room and kitchen to the bathroom at the back of this four-hundred-square-foot bungalow. On the toilet, I smiled at the Daddy Long Legs spider crawling across the linoleum floor, beautiful in his own awkward way.
In this cool early hour, fully awake now, I returned to the living room, furnished with only my light-beige La-Z-Boy recliner, a blue winged-back chair, and a three-foot square oak coffee table. I curled up in the Pillow-Top recliner and prepared to meditate, to pull in the fullness of spiritual protection around me.
Cabra wanted in my lap. “Okay,” I said lovingly, like a mother who can’t turn away her child who wants a hug. “But just for a minute.” Once my routine began, I would need my own space to concentrate the energy. Cabra would then need to lie in her own spot, the winged-back chair.
I was used to waking at two a.m. occasionally, from angels stirring me to commune or to give me insights and revelations. This was the first time a demon-vampire had intruded into my dreams and sleep. With the dread still fresh upon me, I bolstered my courage and began taking long deep breaths to go into my inner place where I would reconnect with the steadfast inner knowing, wherein calm would return and safety and reason would prevail.
In my comforting small duplex, set far back off the road, farther than the other small houses around me, I felt sheltered. The soft Navajo-white walls, high curved ceiling, and tranquil light-gray carpet cocooned me against the disturbances of the outside world and the teeming metropolis of Denver.
Moonlight filtered in through the lace curtains, lightening the dark. I brushed my bangs and shoulder-length ash-blond hair back off my face and poised myself to find the rhythm. I reminded Cabra to get down now, and she obediently jumped over to her own chair. I then set my feet flat on the floor to ground myself with the earth’s natural balancing energy. I relaxed upright in the recliner, lay my palms face up in my lap, connected my thumb and forefinger on each hand, and closed my eyes.
Slowly, I brought my focus inward and began to breath in easily and deeply. With each breath, I felt my spirit calming and my mind and emotions settling. The calm presence of the Divine flowed into me like a refreshing gentle breeze, strengthening my composure, reason, and insight.
Still sensing the presence of the demon-vampire seeking to enter my space, I drew upon all the powers of Spirit that I had come to know and that had guarded me more than once before.
I breathed now even more deeply into the center of my being. Finding the balance point, the place where all else dissolves, I felt the tingling presence of angels around me. I asked for their guidance and protection in the anticipated ordeal ahead, whatever it might be—because the full picture was something I could not see. I could only feel it and know, from experience, that it would come.
The burden then lightened and began to dissipate. As I felt lighter, my breath eased and my heart filled with trust in the universal powers that I felt and knew were around me, and I knew that good sense would be mine when the time came.