Following on from the soul disturbances briefly mentioned in my last post, I want to write about nightmares in children.
I suffered. Actually, right up until I was twenty-one, and occasionally after that. Even now, though, I remember a couple of my childhood nightmares about being chased by a wolf. A few years ago my mother told me about an illustrated version of Red Riding Hood that she used to read to me, and how I'd be transfixed in horrified fascination at the one page that depicted the wolf. (I'll write more on fairy and folk tales some other time). Slowly I began to take hold of my nightmares and be able to tell myself (in my sleep) 'it's only a dream', and then I'd be able to turn the terror around.
Ben, our youngest, was unusually articulate from a very young age. He woke crying one night when he was small and described what he'd been 'seeing'. From his description and my own memories of paintings by Hieronymous Bosch, I realized these were what you might call demons. The thing is, the further away children grow from the heavenly world, the more the not-always-benevolent forces have access to them. And we all carry evil within us.
A while later, when he was troubled by nightmares, he went to visit a little girl who lived a couple of doors down our road. Her family was from America, and she gave him a little doll which she told him was a 'warrior' (worrier? I was never sure). He should put it under his pillow at night, and that would help.
The power of suggestion? Who can say.
Anyhow, just recently the blue-eyed grandson has started suffering. Of course, I googled to see what might be done. Apart from finding a suggestion to give him chamomile before bedtime, I didn't see much that I thought might be useful. So I started to focus on my own experience.
First of all, I tend to have bad dreams when I'm too hot. Sleeping on my back can also do it. Sometimes, if I'm away from home, bedclothes or duvets made of artificial fabrics can be a factor. So I suggested Mom and Dad should check all that, and be sure to turn him onto his side. And then I came to what I keep under my bed. No, not dust bunnies! (although they can attract malevolent house spirits). We have two large chunks of quartz.
We had three, but I gave one back to Ben to use for the blue-eyed boy. That was only fair, seeing as he found them.
It was years ago, before our eldest, Miranda, left to live in England. She had made me promise that we would visit the Etosha game park before she flew off. And so it happened -- although I hadn't anticipated it would turn into a camping trip! I like my home comforts and we were exactly organized for camping under dry and dusty circumstances. Nevertheless, it was truly wonderful. On our way back we visited the hot baths at Ai Ais. Now, the land of Namibia in that area is practically all quartz. Very little vegetation. I was keen to take some crystals home, but wasn't having much luck finding them. So I sent Ben off on a foray, and sure enough, he came back to the car with bounty.
I find that having the stones under the bed somehow gives protection from the not-always-benevolent forces that emanate from the earth and surroundings... forces like electro-magnetic fields and so on.
These days when I'm travelling I make sure to take a small unpolished piece of rose quartz with me, and put it under my pillow when I sleep. I guess you could say it's my own kind of warrior!
