Siridescence
New Member
When I was in college, I had my first reincarnational dream. The dream had two parts: in the first part, I was happily riding on a horse, laughing, my blond hair flying behind me, my favorite sister of that life riding on the horse in front of me. Then the dream changed, and I and my three sisters were all living in poverty. I understood that the plague had killed both of our parents, and my eldest sister had taken on the responsibility of trying to keep us alive. When we’d been forced from our estate (we had been wealthy when our parents were alive), we smuggled out as much of the silver and other valuables as possible, and were selling the pieces, one by one, to eat. We lived in a rough wooden shack. The eldest sister was furious that the third sister (my favorite; I was the youngest) had given the last silver platter to a new friend of hers to support his “church” (which I’ll explain more of in a bit).
The most striking thing about that dream was that the personalities of all three of my sisters were so crystal clear. The oldest sister carried the burden of her responsibility and was gray and aged before her time. The second sister was beautiful but placid. (It was clear that she would be married off for money if the eldest could manage it.) The third sister was a rebel, and of the four, only she and I could read; we loved books.
Then there was me. I was unable to speak, but it was clear that this wasn’t a physical affliction, but the result of the trauma I’d been through with the loss of my parents. My closest sister seemed to understand me, though.
Which was probably why I was so mad at her when she went off and made this new friend. He was thin and weedy, an intellectual. My sister wasn’t interested in him romantically (I’m pretty sure he was sexually ambivalent), but spiritually. He was into a church that had mystical teachings and ideas. She tried to share these ideas with me by giving me a book about some of his ideas (which I had mixed feelings about taking, since I was jealous that she had another friend, but loved to read). This sister had to slip the book to me in secret because the eldest had thrown her out when she gave away the last silver platter.
Then the friend died (from the plague, I understood), my sisters made up, and we all went to the friend's “funeral.” We were surprised (and the eldest scandalized) that the funeral was more like a wake. It was some combination of Christianity and paganism. My sisters and I were all dressed in black, with hoods over our blond hair, but the regular congregation were dancing in the aisles. I was caught up in the celebratory nature of the service, and pushed my hood down, exposing my blonde hair. The eldest gasped and threw my hood back over my hair.
The last thing I remember from that dream was less reincarnational, but spooky in retrospect. As the dream started to fade, I picked up a book in the church and showed it to sister #2, telling her, “Look, this name is like mine!” (I don’t know why I could talk; perhaps because the dream had turned more symbolic by then.) I was referring to the name on the front of the book, which in typical dream-fashion was hard to read because the words were swimming together, but looked like “Sigrind.”
Because I was in college and had lots of time on my hands in the morning in those days, I was able to write down the dream right when I woke up and capture all its vivid detail. It was pretty clear to me that with the blonde hair and the Nordic name, the whole thing was set in one of the Scandinavian countries.
-- Sigrid
The most striking thing about that dream was that the personalities of all three of my sisters were so crystal clear. The oldest sister carried the burden of her responsibility and was gray and aged before her time. The second sister was beautiful but placid. (It was clear that she would be married off for money if the eldest could manage it.) The third sister was a rebel, and of the four, only she and I could read; we loved books.
Then there was me. I was unable to speak, but it was clear that this wasn’t a physical affliction, but the result of the trauma I’d been through with the loss of my parents. My closest sister seemed to understand me, though.
Which was probably why I was so mad at her when she went off and made this new friend. He was thin and weedy, an intellectual. My sister wasn’t interested in him romantically (I’m pretty sure he was sexually ambivalent), but spiritually. He was into a church that had mystical teachings and ideas. She tried to share these ideas with me by giving me a book about some of his ideas (which I had mixed feelings about taking, since I was jealous that she had another friend, but loved to read). This sister had to slip the book to me in secret because the eldest had thrown her out when she gave away the last silver platter.
Then the friend died (from the plague, I understood), my sisters made up, and we all went to the friend's “funeral.” We were surprised (and the eldest scandalized) that the funeral was more like a wake. It was some combination of Christianity and paganism. My sisters and I were all dressed in black, with hoods over our blond hair, but the regular congregation were dancing in the aisles. I was caught up in the celebratory nature of the service, and pushed my hood down, exposing my blonde hair. The eldest gasped and threw my hood back over my hair.
The last thing I remember from that dream was less reincarnational, but spooky in retrospect. As the dream started to fade, I picked up a book in the church and showed it to sister #2, telling her, “Look, this name is like mine!” (I don’t know why I could talk; perhaps because the dream had turned more symbolic by then.) I was referring to the name on the front of the book, which in typical dream-fashion was hard to read because the words were swimming together, but looked like “Sigrind.”
Because I was in college and had lots of time on my hands in the morning in those days, I was able to write down the dream right when I woke up and capture all its vivid detail. It was pretty clear to me that with the blonde hair and the Nordic name, the whole thing was set in one of the Scandinavian countries.
-- Sigrid
