Dreamwalker.

My dreams have never been what you'd call normal. I don't dream that I'm in a car, and suddenly I'm driving a pudding-shoe through the mall with my grandmother and my puppy from when I was six is chewing my favorite teddy-bear. I don't dream "weird dream stuff" - in fact, I'm not sure I ever really "dream".

We noticed things were weird when I was about five, maybe six. We were at my grandmother's and I was taking a nap in her rocking chair (on her lap, doubtlessly). I only vaguely remember this event, so I rely upon what I'm told: I awoke with a start, and began crying. When asked what was wrong I repeatedly insisted that we needed to go home, because something was attacking our chickens. That something had dug under the fence, and was getting them. I was, of course, ignored.

When we got home we found utter carnage. Our own dogs had escaped their fence, and dug under the fence into our hen-yard and had massacred the hens.

Throughout my "career" as a witch, I would intermittently dream of flying, of going to great night-reveries, of grand Sabbats held atop hills in ancient stone circles - and sometimes the stars themselves. But mostly, and almost nightly, I would dream of showing up in some far-flung place, where there was inevitably some sort of "bad juju" going on.

In these "dreams" I would do what I could to fix it. Usually resorting to pulling out my ritual dagger, and claiming the ground there - and sometimes pissing to the four directions. Never underestimate the usefulness of marking your territory. Sometimes I would dream of other witches and pagans I knew, and we'd be cooperating to do serious workings that needed doing, and sometimes we'd all remember the event, or similar dream-narratives.

I always knew I was leaving my body in my sleep. But I was always told that this was not true, that you cannot go "out" from the flesh without intent, and that dreams are just dreams. That you're trapped in your own head, that you cannot project outward from inward. And I always thought "Well, that's bullshit. I can do it, and I know I'm not -that- special or unique."

I'd always wake up feeling like I hadn't slept at all, or cold, or sore... or with cuts. And eventually I found an author who didn't shy away from saying "Sometimes people who are different can do different things. Some people with these skills are different from others, and have unique skills themselves, and that includes stepping into someone else's dreams, or another world altogether, while they sleep."

When I finally went "SEE?! I told you I wasn't that special" it got weirder. I didn't have a normal dream (that I could recall) for over two years. Now, I might have "just a dream" once a week. Mostly, though - I journey out and do what needs doing.

Not that long ago, I was in a normal dream - and then it went "weird", that is to say, it shifted from being a dream to being something else. The setting changed and I found myself in a dark room, across from a tall, blond man. He has contracted me, or is seeking to.

"I desire passage to (it's a Norse word, I hear it, but have no idea what it means) and I am told that you have the skills required to cut a door, as it were." His voice is almost lyrical, and heavily Scandinavian, and I know immediately that he is not human.

I recall telling him that I wasn't sure what place he was talking about, because I didn't know the word. He smiled at me, very patiently, and stated that it was Norse and that I should look it up when I wake up. He also explained that it was beyond the 'hedge', and that he simply needed someone to open a door.

As suddenly as it was said, we were there. A land of shadows, muted tones, half-colors, and ever-biting wind. The stars reeled visibly across the sky, as if being fast-forwarded. In fact, everything seemed to be moving so quickly, as to stand still. The man turned to me "I can believe many things, but I cannot believe you just did that. I cannot believe I am actually in (that word again). You hold remarkable skills. Fortunately we can return of our own accord now - you are free to leave." So I did.

When I awoke, I jotted down the word - the place name I didn't understand. "Skardalfhemmer" It was close. The word that had been said to me was actually Svartalfheimer - The land of the Dark Elves. I wonder what business the handsome Scandanavian had there?

With the hour being what it is, I'm off to 'dream'. Maybe I'll get the answer to my question.