Believe in What You Can’t See

I wanted to clean my house.  I wanted to shake off the oppressive feeling I’ve had within its walls for nearly two years.  My decision came during the Aquarius month.  This may seem like a paltry expression of that season’s “divine discontent.”  But clearing clutter from my closet and a mountain of boxes from my garage meant nothing short of a revolution.  Little did I know where it would all lead.  In the end, we escorted six ghosts off our property and closed an “extra-dimensional portal” in the downstairs hall. 

Goals at the start of any season often change in the course of it.  They’re not mistakes, more like eager scouts, taking us into new territory.  As the days unfold, these goals change clothes, dressing up or down, engaging our interest or losing it, taking the life they need to live, so that we might achieve the one we want.  I’ve found, and students in my Twelve Moons workshop agree, that our goals often quite naturally suit the seasons.  They unfold during the Moon cycle and deposit us, like an efficient mystery train, right on the doorstep of the next season.  What seems like a random or scattered life makes new sense.  Going from Aquarius to Pisces, I was properly transformed, filled with new conviction and confidence:  Non-ordinary realities do exist--and I need to honor what I feel but cannot see.  

I never liked this house.  It’s always felt dense, cluttered and musty, even though it’s only five years old.  I wanted to move the minute I got here.  Instead I blamed myself for the sinking feeling I got whenever I pulled in the driveway.  Then the dreams came.  They were sharp and clear, not at all like my liquid familiar ones.  In the first dream, a ghoulish girl grabbed me by the throat.  In the second, I was being pulled towards a wall, which I knew I would disappear into if I didn’t stop.  I’ve had nightmares before--I’d remember it was just a dream and wake up instantly.  In these, however, I couldn’t move.  I screamed and my screams crossed from the dream world into the bedroom.  Hearing me, Robert shook me awake.  My dog, on the bed with us, trembled for hours.  

A friend knew a dowser, a former engineer, who also helped ghosts transition into the light.  I got his phone number.  But I felt silly.  What if it was just my imagination?  When I finally called, I asked instead about dowsing our land.  Could he tell us where to dig a new well or the best spot for a vegetable garden?  The dowser said “Bring a map of your property to my office.  I can tell you then if I need to come out.”  Shortly after this sentence he stopped himself:  “It’s demonic.  I need to come out.”  Only then I did I mention the ghoul who grabbed me in my first dream.  

When he and his assistant arrived, she immediately walked to the wall from my second dream and said, “There it is.”  What?  “It’s a portal.  Anyone from another dimension can get in here.  It’s like living in the worst part of town and leaving your front door wide open.”  This explained my second dream, and how my dog, at odd times would scoot off the bed and run like, well, like he’d seen a ghost!  The dowser got to work with his crystal pendulum, talking with the ghosts, and asking for assistance from his teams of helper spirits.  

We live among pear orchards, but our land looks like it was cleared of pear trees long ago.  I’ve been unsuccessful searching county records for the history of this property.  The dowser told a story of a farmhouse, a thought form still existing underneath this house, and a stubborn farmer, still working the land and resisting his transition.  There was another man, very shy, a crying baby and an old woman, timid, sad and scared.  There was a demonic spirit hiding in the library and a mischievous girl playing in the office (where we’d often find cords and computers mysteriously unplugged).  I reflected on how the stories the dowser told fit with the feelings I often had in this house—ones that seemed odd and uncharacteristic, and that I tried to shake off as being something wrong with me.  

"The next time you feel a weight on the bed when nobody is there, a touch on the shoulder, an eternal voice in your ear... know that the possibility exists that someone may indeed be trying to contact you from another dimension."  -- Micheal Teal