Monday, 19 November 2012

A Gift From Beyond The Veil

The veil is still thin here. Thinner, almost, than it was at Samhain. That shouldn't surprise me, I've never been one to place too much significance on the calender. Things come when they are ready to come and not before. That's not to say I didn't mark the date itself, I did, I always do, and there was no doubt the veil was thin... but not at it's thinnest I think. It was too warm, too still, too light, too green. Death and dark were on their way, there was no doubt of that, I had felt their presence creeping in for a while, stalking me, but it is stronger now.
The wind howls outside my window, driving tatters of rain up the valley, running down the cold glass blurring all beyond. The sky is a brooding grey and a few stubborn remnants of autumn hang yellow against dark claws of branches, bending before that invisible force.  It seems appropriate.

I still feel I'm trailing a crowd of ancestors about with me. I'm living in a world of babbling conversation and loaded silence, as though they are waiting for a realisation to dawn out of the still. My sleep is filled with dreams that are more than dreams, vivid and intense. Messages are everywhere, clear, concise, leaving little room for misinterpretation. I don't like what I'm being told, I don't like it at all, and yet it is strangely comforting, this knowledge. Knowledge is always better than being kept in the dark.

So I'll take that for the gift it is, and be thankful.