In which Adrian talks to the beyond...

Okay, so I’m propped up in bed, with books and notebooks spread around me; with the SP curled up against my hip and Adrian comes into the bedroom. He says that he had the weirdest dream. Given that Adrian never dreams and, if he does, it's only ever about beer, my ears prick up. If he's remembered it, it has to be bloody weird. 

He says he dreamed he was in a taxi and that my mother kept phoning him on his mobile. My dead mother.
‘It was so strange because I knew she was dead,’
‘Oh my God. What did she say? Was she okay?’
‘I can’t remember really.’
‘Did you ask her if she wanted to say anything to me?
‘No, I didn’t. Sorry.’
‘Did you ask where she was?’
‘No.’ He shrugs.

Oh FFS. He’s got a hot line to my dead mother and he doesn’t ask the most basic questions?

‘Well how did she sound?’
‘Quiet. Frail. The usual. As she did really. Then at the end she said, ‘I have to go now’.

Jeez. What a waste. And why the heck didn’t she talk to me? Why didn’t she phone me?

‘It was just a dream. Probably because we’d been talking about her yesterday.’

Yeah right.

‘Look, don’t start expecting me to take dictation from your mother in dreams, okay? ‘

I look a bit sheepish... I had been on the verge of pushing a tape recorder on him.

‘Well, at least if you believe that was her, you won't still think she's reincarnated in the SP, will you?’

I stroke his silky head.  ‘I dunno.’ (Keeping my fingers firmly crossed under the covers).

Weirdly I haven’t been dreaming much lately. All my life my nights have teemed with dreams. I have rows of notebooks with them all written out in long boring detail; endless files on the PC; sketchbooks full of images from them. Now, nothing. Maybe the action has shifted to my waking life instead. Maybe my poor subconscious doesn’t need to shout anymore because I’m finally listening with both ears wide open?

I pluck a rune. Othila. Separation.

“This is the time of separating paths. Old skins must be shed, outmoded relationships discarded. Othila is the rune of radical severance.”

Nooooo. That sounds harsh.  I can’t bear it. 
“The proper action here is submission and, quite probably, retreat – knowing how and when to retreat and possessing the firmness of will to carry it out.”

I decide I have to submit to it. You can’t, mustn’t force things. What will be, will be. I have to trust it’s for the best. Let go, let go. Breathe. Breathe. Centre. Wu wei.

Later, sitting at my PC, I feel something shift. My hand slides into the rune bag once more.  And pull out...
Laguz. Flow. 

“Laguz fulfils our need to immerse ourselves in the experience of living without having to evaluate or understand. This rune often signals for a time of cleansing: for revaluing, reorganising, realigning. A Rune of deep knowing, Laguz may call you to study spiritual matters in readiness for self-transformation.”

- No shit.

“Success now lies in contacting your intuitive knowing, in attuning to your own rhythms. A rune of the self relating rightly to the Self, Laguz signifies what the alchemists called the conjunctio, or sacred marriage. In fairy tales, it is the end where the hero and heroine live happily ever after.”

- Shit!

I mean, bring it on..... :)