For better or worse, I seem to be inclined toward oneiromancy. Dream interpretation is a common enough practice among pagans, but they tend to be dreams relating to one’s own gods, one’s own life, revelations that are relevant to one’s own needs and desires.
Meanwhile, I seem to be a most useless oracle.
Here’s an example from this week, with names and the exact dream details changed for privacy. After something horrible happened in my own life, I began to have recurring nightmares about terrible things happening to wolf packs. I dreamed of wolves blinded by hunters’ arrows. I dreamed of packs being slaughtered down to one wolf remaining, who went insane. I dreamed of a pack of wolves that were wounded in a forest fire, and on death, the entire pack transformed into a single salamander, which then began to burn the entire world to ash.
I never dream of wolves, and rarely of salamanders. My immediate thought was that something terrible must have happened to Blaidd, an old acquaintance that I have not heard from in years, whose personal worship deals heavily with wolves and salamanders, and to whom the wolf pack is the most sacred of sacred bonds, the holiest of holiest, never to be broken. So to dream of wolf packs being torn apart would be the worst of events in his life.
But surely, that is ridiculous, I thought. Ridiculous and a bit creepy. Blaidd is probably just fine. I assumed I must have somehow been projecting my own emotional experiences onto a distant figure, and did my best to ignore the nagging feeling that came with it.
Later in the week, I happened upon Blaidd in public, talking of his life. When I had been having these nightmares, he was going through neurochemical hell, emotionally and mentally coming apart at the seams.
These details, again, are false. There is no man named “Blaidd”. I did not dream of wolves or salamanders. But the rough situation is the same—clairvoyant visions of another’s distress.
It will not be the last time I dream of another’s personal business, that I have not been invited to, and am not welcome to know.
Years in the past, I had cultivated the skills of lucid dreaming, dreamwalking, and more intentional divination with questions and goals. But I grew tired. My waking life was, and is, incredibly stressful at times, and eventually I just wanted to rest without work, and dream nothing but the day’s memory being rehashed for storage. Or, better still, dream nothing at all.
In hindsight, all that I have really done is let the chariot steer itself.