A Visit to Pagan Island
A row of standing stones runs along the spine of the long, narrow river island.
In the dream, I'm in Wales, visiting the old Selene farm in Carmarthenshire, which during the 70s and early 80s was home to the Pagan Movement in Britain and Ireland. It was from these good folks that I learned ritual and how to think in Pagan. It was in this soil that my pagan roots first grew deep.
The river in the dream, though, is clearly the Mississippi, along whose banks I now live. In the logic of dreams, the meaning is clear enough.
When we finally manage to get out to the island—did we swim? boat? teleport?—we discover something very interesting indeed. The long row of standing stones that line the island's ridge are not raised stones. These stones are a part of the island itself, living rock rearing to the sky, grown here like the trees themselves.
In the dream, I think of the immemorial sanctity of river islands. I remember the self-manifest lingams of India, most sacred of all lingams. These are self-manifest standing stones, most powerful of all.
We link hands and begin to dance. Down along the full row we dance, weaving in and out of the standing stones as we go.
We round the last stone and weave our way back up the row, in and out, rounding every other stone.
The Sun shines, the River flows. Exuberantly, we dance.
You can read more about the Pagan Movement in Britain and Ireland here.