October 31, 2006

A tale for Samhain

I'll tell you a tale for Samhain
A tale that's rarely been told
A scarey tale, a faery tale
concerning a creature of old

Now if that has wet your appetite let us begin.
Many years ago when the moggie first started being involved with the pagan side I used to do a lot of work involving nature. This particular day I had moored my narrowboat in a deserted place on the canal I lived on. No other boats around just mine. The arm as it was called led onto a little bit of a wood with old trees in it, that eventually led onto a path to a caravan park. It was Samhain October 31st. I had gone to bed quite late but was sober. I had the most strangest of dreams if that was what it was.
I was led from the boat within the woodland, many twists and turns and far larger than it was in daytime. I remember being caught on a bramble which snagged my arm. After a long journey I came to a clearing and within this clearing were all manner of creatures fantastical and real. There was a huge bonfire and all were dancing around it, I joined them and had a great time. There was such a joyous feel to the night. When dawn started to lighten the sky someone came to lead me home. I went reluctantly but with the knowledge I had experienced something out of this world.
So what you might think. If I tell you that when I awoke the next morning I had a bramble scratch on my arm in the same position as in the dream and that there was an oak leaf and an acorn on the side of the bed.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'd say you had a very grand night indeed! And...that you were/are indeed blessed.

Anonymous said...

So, tell us more about what being pagan means please. What does Samhain mean?

Anonymous said...

Hello! I hope you had a wonderful Samhain!

Any more intrigueing dreams? :)

Gwen

maylin said...

Sounds like you shouldn't question it but accept the gift.

Jo at Celtic Memory Yarns said...

I know that experience. I've been there too. Take it, say thank you, and wait for the next time! You have been favoured, haven't you!
Jo
Celtic Memory Yarns
(only it was nettle stings in my case!)

Poetry for Brigid Imbolc

  The Lake Isle of Innisfree BY  WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay a...