hidden healing stream


More walking. This time I was with someone. An old man? Walking to G—‘s house possibly. Walking along a pretty overgrown train track, which travelled through a natural grassy passage between some trees.

Scattered along the track I saw giant eggs. They were beautiful and in pastel colours, (like Cadbury’s Mini Eggs). Some were larger than others, but all were pretty massive. And though the shells looked pretty strong, all here broken in one place – either hatched or broken – I couldn’t tell. I was worried that the eggs had been broken because they were on the train track.

We searched for birds, and eventually we came across a half dead owl. It didn’t look bashed up at all, just semi-conscious, and sort of sleepy, without injury. We assumed it had hit its head on a train. He (the man I was with, I don’t know who he was, he might have been young) tried to save it but it had some sort of death wish. It kept jumping onto the tracks and eventually it managed to jump infront of a coming train.

Afterwards I noticed that between the parallel train track rails, there was a large long crack in the earth, a jagged crevice. When the train had hit it the owl had landed on the ground near the crack. It was definitely dead. But as I watched it, its body began to heal. It became less broken, and then whole. I realised that underneath the crack between the tracks there were healing waters.

Suddenly I was with my family. They weren’t my real family, but they were my family in the dream. I must have fetched them there. We were all young and beautiful and completely naked. We all had long flowing hair, even my father. My hair was long and brown and wavy. We could have been a sort of wood people. There were other people there too, all naked, but very natural in it. Nobody really thought about being naked, it was simply that we all felt naturally free.


We gripped the edge of the earth at the crack and lifted. The ground rose on either side like two great long trapdoors into a cellar, revealing a beautiful healing stream. It was at least 10 or 20 metres long, with one side of the train track attached to each long earthy trapdoor, the rails almost stapling the earth together.

My family took it in turns to step into the stream. I lay on my back in the water and swam from one end to the other. My long hair streamed behind me, over the mud and over my skin, under my back. It was quite a shallow stream, but the water was clean and cold and peaceful.

Then my younger sister came – she looked just like me, but smaller and younger. Then my father who was naked and young too, with long blond hair. Not sure what my dream mother looked like – she waited til last.

At the other end of the stream we had to huddle against the edge of the grass corridor (I don’t think the corridor had been there before) because a train was coming. We quickly closed the ‘trapdoors’. An old woman wouldn’t stop talking. I kept telling her to shut up. My father (blond) quickly opened the door in a grass wall at end of the corridor for the train to go through. The door in a grass wall was at the end of the grass corridor, which tapered towards our end, with the tracks running through.

I was with my sister, we were huddled and calm against the grass wall. As I waited, all my scars were disappearing, fading. It was because of the healing waters.

I saw my box of books and shouted that I needed them. Someone threw them to the side quickly before the train started steaming through. And as the train was going past, I saw my father, a different father, a dressed version, but still with long blond hair, and young, but more proper. I think he was wearing tweed. I think the other version of my young blond father was still next to me near the open door, pressed against the wall of the grass corridor. But in this corner to my right and behind me, sat the other version, on a chair, looking like a scatty history professor, one leg crossed over the other, relaxed.


He saw the box of books and looked excited. He reached down into the box and picked up Far From The Madding Crowd, opened it, and removed the thirty pounds I had found earlier.

He was thrilled. And I was so annoyed. The way he looked I could see that the money was his. I could almost see him simulatneously in a scene from the past, a double view. He was in a library putting the money in the book for safe keeping, then forgetting it was there and throwing it away, and remembering too late. I saw this alongside watching him finding the money, outside in the grass corridor, with the train whizzing past while I clutching my sister with the grass on my bare back.

I was so annoyed as I felt that it was mine and it was an awful lot of money in those days. He said he would put me on a train. I was trying to get to G—‘s house, but I kept getting lost.


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