Lately I’ve felt a pull to the water. A random urge told me to go to the beach last week and just sit and observe for a while. I listened to my urge and sat close to where the tide lapped onto the shore. The sand covered with tiny seashells of all shapes and colors. I watched and smiled as the seagulls and pelicans dove into the water, breaking the threshold between sea and sky, in search of their seafood-breakfast. The sound of the waves soothed me, cleansed me, reminded me of things I’d long since forgotten. I began to realize that my somewhat inexplicable and tumultuous relationship with water goes deeper than the surface. I am not afraid of the water because of a near-drowning incident in this life. In fact, as a child I ADORED the water. My grandmother would let me swim from sun up to sun down in her pool and I would hardly want to come out for meals. I would pretend I was a mermaid with long, waving hair. Even then, I can remember a slight fear of the water…I imagined a shark would appear in the pool and drag me under into the depths of the ocean.
As I became an adult, my relationship with water became more distant. I enjoy the beach. I enjoy laying beside the pool. But I don’t particularly enjoy being in the pool, nowadays. When I go to the beach, I only ever go into the water waste-deep, if that. And I like to be able to see all around me. Otherwise, it’s a no-go. I’d prefer to lay in the sun on the sand. Where did this aversion to water begin? Why now in my adult years and not as a child? My past life memories are beginning to re-surface. Being at the beach last week and allowing nature to speak to me was a big confirmation.
Recently, in the past few weeks, I’ve had two dreams that spoke of lives on the water. The first was fairly hazy and didn’t lend me any solid images that I can recall; however, the name Anne Bonny kept repeating over and over in my head. I woke up and thought of the name Anne Bonny, in knowing she was one of the most famous female pirates in history. I put the dream to the side of my mind and didn’t think again of her until a few nights ago. At this point, I decided to research her a bit…and found her name was Anne Cormac and she was originally from Cork, Ireland. Immediately I drew a connection – my grandmother’s people were from Cork, Ireland. Another connection…Anne Bonny sailed the Caribbean…I live on the Gulf side of Florida which is highly likely Anne might have landed here or near where I live in this present day. Maybe I’m reaching, but maybe not.
The past three nights I have not slept well. I fall asleep easily and fast, but tend to wake up around 3 am each night and fade in and out of sleep thereafter. This has allowed me to stay in that sleep/wake in-between realm where dreams are more vivid and easier to recall. Last night, I dreamed again of the water. I watched as a ship with large sails sunk into the sea, as I floated away. Carried by the current. Silver coins strung together by silver chain-mail floated around me. The sky was above me, and waves crashed over me. I thought I was dying…until the water flattened and I came to a grassy shoreline. I pulled myself up onto the small island and looked out over what seemed to be a river or bay off the vast sea. Coming towards me were two women on a raft. They were both brown-skinned but covered in what appeared to be mud or wet sand, perhaps to keep the sun from burning their skin. They wore what looked like Egyptian headdresses, and one woman fanned the other with a large round fan. The word “Hadrun” was spoken inside of my mind. In this dream, I was a tall, brown-skinned woman with short hair, wore very little clothes and a large necklace.
I woke up and automatically thought to research cities called Hadrun. I found a few things, but none that related to cities. Hadrian, a Roman emperor, and Hadron, a nuclear machine in Switzerland. I do not know the connection, but I suspect and feel in my soul that Hadrun was once an ancient civilization or town somewhere along the Mesopotamia, probably along the coast of North Africa. The end of the dream in which I wash ashore on a grassy knoll-type of island was undoubtedly a small island in the Nile River…possibly Uganda. I’ve confirmed this by searching the images of small islands in the Nile…they look exactly like my dreamscape. Funny, too, that I have North African genes, according to my DNA test. I wonder if this life ties into my childhood obsession and adulthood fascination with Ancient Egypt. Did I live multiple lives in Egypt? I believe I did.
As for my relationship with water, I am working on it in a spiritual facet, currently. I am making a conscious effort to get to the beach more often, to allow the waves to speak to me. I haven’t asked for my dreams to reveal the answers, yet they have been. The rune laguz has been my guide…the primal waters. Birth. A waterfall. I am understanding more and more why I’ve felt aversions to it only to be replaced with wild fascination. This never-ending like-hate connection with the water element ebbs and flows. I feel that in the end, I will have made amends with the ocean. With the tides. For the water is a part of me and a part of everyone else in this world. I need water to survive. When I was born, water was my vehicle into this physical realm. When I die, I will swim across the crystal lake to get to the other realm. Rebirth will surely come and once again I will merge with the water to begin life anew. I can’t escape water. And neither can you.