I did not really focus on this as I was falling to sleep last night, but I do need to start more in-depth dreamwork. I used to remember them all the time, but then when you’re extra tired (which usually happens when working nigh shift), sometimes you just don’t. For a long time, I haven’t remembered any dreams. This could be related to my tiredness due to work schedule, or it could be because I don’t generally remember dreams unless they’re fairly significant.
But last night, I had one that was a bit odd for me ~ not one that I might normally have. And, I remembered it.
I was in a basement. I don’t know for sure whose home I was in, as it did not look like my basement to me. It could’ve been, but it didn’t feel like “my” basement, either.
I was in this basement and there were people around ~ I don’t know if they were dead or what, but they seemed to be restless. Almost as if they were captured and trying to get free. It wasn’t gruesome, as I remember, but it was maybe slightly disturbing.
And for some reason, I started mopping the basement floor. It was a typical cement slab basement floor. I remember that, in the dream, I purposefully mopped the floor from the back of the house to front (how I knew the direction I mopped is beyond me at this point, since it wasn’t my basement). And I remember that I sort of telepathically heard the words, “He isn’t sweeping first.” But I ignored it and went on mopping. I’m not sure what was in my mop water ~ only that it was made in the basin of a washing machine.
Note: I know what mopping is where folk magic is concerned. You always mop from back of the house to front of the house. This particular direction of mopping does two things: 1) it pushes out the negative through the front door; and 2) it invites in good luck and blessings, also through the front door. And if you’re smart, you put a little bit of your pee into the mop water so that the good stuff looking specifically for you as a person is able to find you. This is not new. European (especially Scots-Irish) folk magic has included this basic “recipe” for good house-cleaning-for-luck formula for centuries (despite what those lying “Christian” Hoodoo folk scream about “cultural appropriation”).
There was a man there in a suit. He was an older gentleman with white hair, kind of thin ~ gaunt, I guess is what most people would call him. Tall and lanky. He seemed rather pale-skinned, as well. Not like, caucasian-pale, but like dead-pale. The suit was black, a typical pants-jacket-white-shirt-tie kind of suit, not a big fancy three-piece or tux. Almost like what an insurance salesman would wear to work. “Casual” suit (is that a thing?).
He watched me for a few moments as I mopped and would step out of my way when I needed to mop under his feet. At one point, he seemed to be satisfied with what I was doing and left the room. I don’t know where he went ~ he could’ve left through a door, but it seems almost as if he vanished gradually or floated away, rather than went through a real-world portal.
It was an interesting dream, to be sure. The face of the man isn’t clear to me now, but it’s highly possible that he was my great-grandfather on my mother’s side. I would say, “grandfather,” but I knew my grandfather and this person didn’t seem to look like him at all. And my grandfather never had white hair ~ he had Irish-red hair in his youth and strawberry-blond as he aged.
I personally find these types of dreams to be a form of spirit communication. And it hardly ever fails that, when I do manage to remember a dream, it turns out to be fairly significant of something. It’s either something I need to do, or something that is fated to be done down the road. And I forget about it. And then when it happens, the dream immediately springs to mind. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20.