Sacred Record:The Woman, the Frog, the Bird, the Moth

The Woman, the Frog, the Bird, the Moth

In the year 2021, dreams were given to me. I wrote them down, not knowing their time. Now, four years later, they rise into flesh and place.

The first dream was this: I became a woman pursued upon a trail unknown to me. She fled until she turned at a tree. There she measured her ground and ceased from running. She knew the path dead-ended here, yet she turned and faced her pursuer. She offered herself not as surrender but as command: You have a choice — let me go, or risk your life. He did not receive her offering. He struck her, stabbed at her eye, pressed against her. She clawed at his eyes, retreated, and reached into the earth. From a hidden hollow she drew forth a knife, and turned the violence back upon him.

Still in the dream I prayed: Let this woman be me. Let me walk the path that honors God’s presence and wonder, with courage and authority.

Then came a second dream: I was a frog, knowing I must allow the serpent to bite me, else the human form of me would perish. Then I was a bird, seeking refuge, calling to my human self in the wood.

Then came a third dream: I was a moth. I saw the woman in her peril and remembered her plea. She had sung to the deer, calling for aid. I, as the moth, whispered to the deer. I carried the song she had sung and gave it back as guidance. The deer heard, turned, and the woman was not abandoned. In this act, I became both the one who calls and the one who answers.

Thus four forms were given: woman, frog, bird, moth. All are me, and all are guides.

In the present year, Source moved me to a pawn shop. I was given two knives. One I gave away, and one I carried into the wood. A serpent led me to a pocket in the earth. There Spirit said: Place the blade here.

So I did.

Weeks went  past, I walked again upon that trail. At what I now recognize as the very site of the first vision, I beheld a small serpent with the right  leg of a toad in its mouth. But the toad lived, and the serpent released it. The dream stood before me, but its end was altered: the frog endured.

Six or so paces onward, beneath the wooden lookout, a black vulture emerged. He barked at me and spread his wings. In my spirit I heard one word from him: You.

Then I remembered: in a season long before, two signs were placed in my hands in my own yard — serpent and moth. On this trail, at the tree where I pressed my palms, the moth returned and marked the place.

The visions are not given in the order of time. They are pieces of one image, scattered across years, until the hour comes when they are joined. And when they join, they burn with both terror and holiness.