FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT KNOW MY WHOLE STORY, THIS WILL MAKE A LOT OF SENSE.
in high school I had reoccurring dreams of a symbol–a hand with an eye on it. Dreamed it all the time. I had no idea what it meant, but it remained with me always. A few years later I was dreaming I was in this different aboriginal world and we were painting our faces with blue war paint. A woman, the leader, kept saying something very close to the sound of “Fatima” and I bolted out of bed but I could not write it down for some strange reason–it slipped away too quickly. More time passed. I got sick. Really sick.. I’d sob into
my hospital mattress praying the Hail Mary over and over and over until I fell asleep. And everything changed. But I came back to that dream of the hand with the eye on it, and mulled it over while I was healing.
Last month I was at church (a very rare occasion because I try very hard not to cry for some reason when I”m there) and I was walking out with my grandpa and there was a table of pamphlets and audiobooks set up and I stopped dead in my tracks–there it was; Fatima. I knew that name but from where? I kept repeating it in my head. I knew it. It was a picture of the Virgin Mary, the vision in Portugal. I stopped my mother and whispered that I knew this–that I’d dreamed this. Naturally she shrugged and that was that. More time passed.
I looked up “hand with eye” and what came up was the Hamsa symbol–the hand of a holy woman (or God’s hand for some) with the eye for protection against evils. I didn’t read much more because I was floating on the fact that I had dreamed these things and thought maybe–just maybe. I was so drawn to it, I ordered my hamsa ring after waiting years to get it–I don’t know why I waited. I stared at it on Etsy every month or so. But I had to have it. It was me.
Then I’m at home reading the art of Tantra and books on Sacred Sexuality Read More