|Protector - by Leslee Hare|
It was a short dream... but I recall seeing a black man radiating a lot of power. He had this tall white shield with black lines on it (2 lines on either side of the center of the shield, near the top and bottom, for a total of 8 lines about 4-6" long); the shield was a pointed oval shape, and about as tall as he was. He wore a loincloth and a belt, and leggings. On his belt were various powerful potions - I felt one potion in particular he had was very dangerous.
As I looked up, I looked into his wide eyes, and started to draw nearer to his eyes. As I did so, I became him and was looking out through his eyes. He said "SELF CHANGE".
I then looked down on the ground, and there was a white rabbit on the ground, dead, with blood on the snow, a gash running through its belly.
Change - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkWZjTPlQhc&feature=related
The middle white shield in this photo with the 8 lines is similar to the shield I saw. Is it possible to have vertical lines? My memory is leaning towards vertical lines, but this may not be a possible configuration.
Black leggings, possibly fur or feather, knee-height at the top, extending down to the ankles. No shoes.
The costume was similar to these, but I don't think he was wearing armbands or much in the way of jewellery. This part is hard to remember. It also seemed a lot "neater" than what these guys are wearing - it was a finely-made costume.
Black feather headdress with medium-length feathers, and short curly black hair. No facial hair or any paint as far as I can remember.
The shield was resting on the ground, and it was about 6 feet tall. He was holding it with his right hand, in front of himself facing me but off to the side, on his right side.
The loincloth was cut more like shorts but I don't remember what material it was made of. There was so much stuff on his belt I couldn't really see clearly what he was wearing underneath. I think he may have had the white fur strips coming off of it (as in the photo above), similar to ermine skin (ermine is a white weasel of north america, used by first nations chiefs here in their costumes).
I think he was holding a rattle in his left hand, which he placed in his belt. I think he had just finished performing a ceremony.
I recall a couple of shrunken heads on his belt, as well. I felt these were helpers to him rather than enemies, but still pretty terrifying to look at, not only because of the way they looked, but because of the power they
radiated. Given willingly to continue their service after death. I was at first respectfully apprehensive, and understood that he was an ally/friend rather than an enemy (but the power radiating from him made me glad he wasn't an enemy...)
He was fairly dark-skinned (almost black) rather than light-skinned.
The potions he carried were in small leather pouches and vials tied with leather to his belt. I think the vials were made of clay with cork stoppers.
The white rabbit was freshly-killed, but I think it was found rather than killed by him or me. Maybe a sacrifice? It wasn't clear to me what this was for. The snow made sense because there was snow on Mount Washington at the time - it was during the winter; I was there overnight on a ski trip.
Mount Washington is considered a place of power on the West Coast of North America.
I had this dream when I was about 16.
White skin and an African Soul
Within my soul, within my mind,
There lies a place I cannot find.
Home of my heart. Land of my birth.
and flame-coloured earth
Electric skies. Shivering heat.
Blood red clay beneath my feet.
At night when finally alone,
I close my eyes and I am home.
I kneel and touch the blood warm sand
And feel the pulse beneath my hand
Of an ancient life too old to name,
In an ancient land too wild to tame.
How can I show you what I feel?
How can I make this essence real?
I search for words in dumb frustration
To try and form some explanation,
But how can heart and soul be caught
In one-dimensional written thought?
If love and longing are a “fire”
And man “consumed” by his desire,
Then this love is no simple flame
That mortal thought can hold or tame.
As deep within the earth’s own core
The love of home burns evermore.
But what is home? I hear them say,
This never was yours anyway.
You have no birthright to this place,
Descendant from another race.
An immigrant? A pioneer?
You are no longer welcome here.
Whoever said that love made sense?------------------
I “love” is an “imperfect” tense.
To love in vain has been man’s fate
From history to present date.
I have no grounds for dispensation,
I know I have no home or nation.
For just one moment in the night
I am complete, my soul takes flight.
For just one moment… Then it’s gone
And I am once again undone.
Never complete. Never whole.
White skin and an African soul.
Cross-reference: The above image was provided by Leslee Hare, who had a similar dream to mine.