Those of you who know me in real life will know I was raised in Christianity. Those of you who don't, I shall enlighten a little further.
My childhood was spent in Christian Churches - predominantly Southern Baptist. I was there - in a dress, to my dismay - most every Sunday, my grandfather (and sometimes my father) sang in the Choir, and I sang from the pew where I sat between my mother and grandmother, and read from my pink covered Bible, chewed gum quietly, tried not to kick my feet, and waited for it to all be over. As I grew, very little changed, except the venue, the loss of my dresses on most occasions, and the addition of Youth Activities like AWANAS. In fifth grade, I was sent to Christian School, where I went from having basic knowledge to a delving mind that picked apart everything, and knew more about the Bible and interpretation than some pastors I knew. By my freshman year of High School, I was practically teaching my Youth Group, and correcting my pastor and Christians much older than me.
That wasn't the only thing, though. Several of my Youth Leaders praised my Biblical Knowledge...only two were aware of the other aspects of my mind. Everyone knew I liked art, and took joy in strange things, but I kept some things fairly secret - namely some of my dreams. There are many people who feel Deja Vu because they actually have experienced something similar before. Similar, but not the exact same thing. Then, there are people that experience Deja Vu because they've witnessed the event before, but not physically. I'm talking about people who dream of something before it happens - precognitive people. I am one of those people. It is a rare occurrence. I can count on one hand the number of times I can remember this happening, and two in particular stand out. The first was a few months before I switched schools. I had a dream about an English lesson. The only person in my dream that I recognized - aside from myself, as these dreams seem to have a habit of changing perspective, so that I am observing myself at one point and then looking through the eyes of my dream self the next. December of the following school year, we had that English lesson, word for word, to the letter. These dreams have reached the point of accuracy that I say "Deja Vu" or "Woah, Deja Vu" or anything of the like in my dream, and find myself unable to say it differently in real life when the event actually occurs.
My other dreams are even more disturbing - not that my premonitions are, as they're largely trivial, and often involve me moving, basically (in other words, they aren't of me actually moving, or a major change, but an event that occurs afterwards, which couldn't occur otherwise). The other dreams I have involve death. Again, I can count the number of times I can remember having the dream on one hand, really. It is a recurring dream, lasting about a week. I count each span of time as one dream, though, as each night it gets longer, more in depth, like starting a movie, watching part of it, and restarting it the next night and watching more. These dreams don't show me who will die, but always lead up to me finding out about someone's death. The stars of this dream are myself and a little ghost girl. I'm not sure how comfortable I feel about her. She's almost like a benevolent spirit corrupted.
The first time I had the dream, I was five. My grandfather had been ill for quite some time, and was in and out of the hospital. The week leading up to his death, I had this dream, and while the details are a little murky after fifteen years, I remember enough. The landscape was beautiful. It had to be something of my own design - a large Victorian house, covered in green ivy, lush gardens that seemed to stretch on for miles, roses, beautiful trees, a fountain - it was gorgeous. The ghost girl was always there - always waiting - and we would play. It was a simple child's dream, one would think, but for it to recur, and then for him to die straight after....
Skip ahead a few years. Four deaths I can remember were heralded by the dream - the death of Cathy, my Youth Leader, Sarah, one of my best friends from the Christian School, my Great Great Aunt (grandmother's mother's sister) Gertie (the woman who helped my mother through her delivery, because my dad was working) and one of Gertie's other sisters that I had never met. The one that jarred me the most was Sarah. She was only sixteen, and healthy - I hadn't seen her since I had transferred back to public school - and then I got a call from my choir director that she was dead. To this day, I don't think I have ever fully come to terms with the event. The setting...was similar. It was the same house, but it looked so decrepit. The paint was peeling, the vines long since dead, the pathways cracking, missing stones. The fountain as at the edge of a cliff now, where the rest of the land had fallen away. Only the ghost girl remained the same - physically at least, if you can call a ghost child in a dream a physical entity. Mentally however, she is very, very different. She's angry at me. She would shout about how we couldn't play anymore, how I left her there with no one and how now I'm too old...and then she tried to kill me. I can vividly remember one of the dreams events - the ways I nearly died - and I am baffled with the way the place works, to be honest. Never before had I gone into the house, but with the ghost girl chasing me, I had nowhere else to go. Inside, the floor was rotting, and I fell, down into a crypt - which, having never been into the house, I didn't know existed. She chased me through the crypt, which somehow came up into the fountain, and I climbed up and out, only to face her again. She charged at me with a knife, I raced to the edge of the cliff, and fell, holding onto the edge, pleading with her to not kill me, begging that she was wrong. And then I woke up for the final night of the dream.
Other than those dreams, I have never seen this ghost girl. I've had other paranormal experiences, some involving spirits, some involving strange events in my real life (like receiving a pagan wand for my 18th birthday) or unintentionally doing a spell (mostly things like binding emotions to poetry, and things like that). With all these things in my life, one would wonder why I have not turned away from Christianity, and the answer is this. It just feels right. There is something about Christianity that brings me a strange comfort to my mind and soul. However, I have also feel more and more drawn to certain aspects of Paganism, because for everything within Christianity that feels right, there is something that feels wrong. Organized Christianity is filled with Hypocrisy, and this is not to say I am perfect, and do not have my own moments of it, but I do my best not to. If the mouth says one thing, the hand shouldn't go and do the opposite. From the mouth of Christians come words of Love and Acceptance, and then their hands slam doors in the faces of those they deem "sinners".
All have sinned.
Christians, do I need to remind you of one of the most quoted scriptures that you consider Holy? Romans 3:23. No one is prefect, we all sin, but guess what. John 3:16.
...That whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
You're going to sin. It's going to happen. Don't look down on someone just because you think they're sinning more, or are on the wrong path. Love them, and show no hate.
I believe I was given certain gifts.
I believe that yes, I do have dreams that show changes in my life. I'm not sure what the purpose is, but they are there. I believe I have dreams that lead up to someone's death. Again, not sure why, but they are there.
I believe I am an empath. I am more than generally empathetic, and can pick up on emotions from people like crazy. This, I can definitely use.
So, I've started learning energy manipulation, shielding, and little things like that. If I had more freedom, I would begin studying other things as well, but the point is this:
I have been called to serve God the father, who is depicted by the Christian faith. I am loyal to Him, believe in Him, and in Heaven, Hell, and that he sent his son Jesus Christ to die for our sins. To I believe that the Christian Bible is complete? No. It was canonized by the Roman Catholics ages ago with the invention of the printing press, in an effort to control the public's knowledge. Also, it has been around for ages, which leads to loss of material, mistranslation, and other such things. It may have been God-Inspired, but as we can see by the Earth around us, Man fucks shit up, and he fucks it up bad. Despite what Man has done, the Deity in question is not to blame.
I have also been called on a path that explores Magic (or Magick if you prefer). There have been too many people and events placed in my path to deny this path, That being said, you may very well see several references to things of this nature in this blog.
While I realize the title says Myth, and I had a place for it here, I've been long winded enough for one evening. Until next time, if anyone is reading.
