Dreaming of Imbolc

I awoke this morning in the midst of a dream. In it, we were accosted while out walking by a woman who proceeded to question us as if we were expert witnesses or law enforcement consultants on the occult. She said that a monument at a nearby Catholic college (she called it Trinity something-or-other) had been "defaced," with the remnants of candles and offerings (I have the impression of red candles, though I can't recall if that was specified or not), and wanted to know the possible meaning behind it. I immediately launched into a quite complex lecture on the neo-pagan celebration of Imbolc, explaining the meanings and customs of the holiday and assuring her that there was nothing at all "Satanic" or dangerous about it. I remember being surprised when the woman asked me if the holiday was sometimes also called La Fheile Bride, and my response that it was indeed sometimes called that, in Gaelic, by Druid practitioners. I also assured her that the mysterious offerings might have been left in honor of St. Brigit, who celebrates a feast day at this time. I was awakened before I could finish my lecture.

Appropriately, I had this dream on the day in question, as Imbolc was celebrated on February 2nd in the tradition in which I was trained--despite it's being called "February Eve" in the early writings, which would of course technically require a celebration on January 31st. I celebrated the 31st and the 1st on the road, caravaning my mother-in-law home from Florida, and if I had any deity interactions at all it was with Bast, who sent her small minions to play in the landscaping around the hotel we stayed at in north Georgia. (One of them was the loveliest little thing, snowy white with a large patch of silver and black tabby markings on her back like a draped blanket. Her eyes were a pale luminous green, ringed with black liner that extended slightly out from the corners in a very Egyptian fashion; she gazed at me very seriously, and I gazed right back at her in the same way, having a moment. She would not approach closely, and finally broke the spell to run off chasing under a bush with her solid red tabby sibling. Their mother was prowling the courtyard, which featured what was very nearly a ring of large stones; adjacent to this was a tiny church building, complete with narrow stained glass windows, labeled the "Interfaith Meditation Chapel." Apparently my faith was not included, because I found the building locked.)

In any case, it's Imbolc now--or Oimelc or Candlemas or La Fheile Bride or whatever you'd like to call it. I call it the midpoint of winter, halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox. It's an odd one, to be sure; the high today should again be in the 60s, which carries on the trend of this being an unusually mild winter. I usually like to celebrate it as a turning point, a time when the days are visibly lengthening, when the first faint hints of growing things can be seen, when we know the worst of winter is generally past us and spring looms on the horizon. This year, there's not much of winter to be seen beyond the still-barren trees, but maybe that's cause for celebration in its own right.

Witchly Dreams and Stranger Things

Last night I had a strange and rather beguiling dream. I was visiting a small and rustic shop in an unknown locale; it might have been on festival grounds or in a woodland, I couldn't say for certain. There was a table set up with a selection of glassed purpose candles, and my eyes were drawn to the ones at the far right of the table; these were in yellowish glass containers, with yellowish wax, and each one contained a few leaves from a small paperback-sized book. Studying the containers I learnt that the candles were designed to work with the energies of a fictional being from an obscure horror novel (one that has never existed on this plane to my knowledge); the candles contained pages from said novel and were meant to evoke the character to a particular end. One of the candles' glasses had broken into several pieces, and I remember picking that one up and sitting it carefully at the back of the table.

I know that other things happened, but they have mostly all retreated to the far edges of my memory and refuse at the moment to be drawn out. However, the one thing I do remember is my friend Glaux joining me at the table and proceeding to anoint my forehead with an ointment she called the Toadman's Salve. I was instructed to be careful what I looked through thereafter. Sometime after that I picked up my camera and found that my vision through the viewfinder was--altered, is the only way I can really describe it. I also remember wondering vaguely how this Sight was going to impact my ability to drive safely home!

I've never given much consideration to toads and their meaning to me personally, although now that I do think of it I realize that they've always made their presence known in my life, from a young age. As a child I could catch them easily, and I know that I was responsible for the death of a few as a very young and stupid kid; I could catch them, all right, but had no idea what to feed them. At our previous home, I often saw them around the property, and again I would catch them and move them out of harm's way (say when the lawn mower was approaching). Tree frogs were common visitors, as well, but it was only the toads that I could easily catch. What this means I have no idea, but something tells me it is a subject for further investigation.