Bird-headed
Tony Eccles’s very interesting letter about culture shock, stress, and paranormal experiences mentions Michael Harmer’s ayahuascan trance encounter with a group of bird-headed people [ FT330:75]. This reminded me of a very vivid dream I had in the mid-1960s. No drugs were involved.
I dreamed I saw something in the distance fall from the sky onto a hill. Curious, I approached the hill to find a baby lying down with one finger pressed against its lips in Horus fashion. Suddenly I became aware that a group of large, bird-headed people had gathered around me. Later I discovered that they resembled the depictions of Sumerian/Babylonian bird-headed figures. The suddenness of their appearance was quite a shock. Then, as if testing the reality of the situation, I touched the thigh of one of these creatures. I awoke immediately on feeling an Esau-like hairiness. Such was the shock that my eyes seemed to revolve in their sockets much like the whirring turn of an old pub fruit machine. It seemed to me an experience both alien and transgressive – but very real. A truly ‘eye-goggling’ experience. I had not come across any pictures of bird-headed people before my dream.
Echoing in my head – whether emanating from the dream figures or not – were the words “I am the dragoman of Zurvan”. I believe I had already read Robert Zaener’s book Zurvan, a Zoroastrian Dilemma (1955), so was aware Zurvan/Zervan was a Persian word for ‘Eternity’. [Wikipedia tells us that a dragoman is “an interpreter, translator and official guide between Turkish, Arabic and Persian-speaking countries and polities and European embassies… and trading posts.” – Editor]. Whatever they signified, I definitely heard the words: “I am the dragoman of Zurvan”. Many are the Carrollian rabbit-hole worlds of wonder we enter when we seek to unmask the truth of a dream by a considered reflection. Terry Little Sherbourne, Dorset to keep us entertained: brush teeth, pro wrestle, storybook, sleep.
It must have been the second month of my husband’s absence that I developed an overwhelming feeling of dread. Something bad was going to happen. At first it was a vague anxiety, but as the days and weeks passed it grew. And it grew until I was certain something tragic was going to happen to my little boy. It got to the point where after sending my son off to kindergarten in the bus, I’d grab my keys and immediately jump in the car and follow them. I was the creepy mom hanging around the school fence waiting for whatever the bad thing was to happen. I felt if I was near him that maybe I could prevent it or mitigate it somehow.
The dread continued. And then around the fifth month of my husband being gone – about the time we learned the contract was probably going to take a lot longer – I started having bad dreams. Nothing I could remember on waking, however. But the nightmares, too, got worse until finally, one night after our pre-bedtime ceremonies, we both fell asleep. Except I had a lucid dream. It began with a man violently shaking me awake. I tried to get up but he kept using the butts of his hands on my shoulders to push me back down. I’d try again. Down. The final time he sat back and allowed me to sit up. He smiled. I was aware of my son sleeping beside me, but I knew if I looked over to see if he was okay that’s where this man-creaturething’s attention would also go. So I froze. Finally, without a word, the man reached his arm out and pointed at me. Still smiling, he leaned in until his finger pressed into my chest. He kept pushing and it felt like it went half way through me. I remember how shocked I was at the pain.