Gift Of The Dreamtime: Awakening To The Divinity Of Trauma - Softcover

Harrell, S. Kelley

4.7

40 ratings by Goodreads

9781892718501: Gift Of The Dreamtime: Awakening To The Divinity Of Trauma

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1892718502 ISBN 13: 9781892718501

Publisher: Spilled Candy Pubns, 2004

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S. Kelley Harrell's Gift of the Dreamtime takes us on a spiritual journey--hers, but maybe yours, too--to investigate the psychological trauma and emotional roadblocks that she traces back to her childhood and to past lifetimes. In a remarkable book that explores her own past as an incest survivor, her bouts with depression, and crippling inability to pursue her dreams, the author uses shamanic practices rooted in Native American, Celtic, and Aboriginal culture. She combines her personal journey with instructions for similar meditations to help the injured child in all of us look at the hurt, understand it in a spiritual context, and forgive both ourselves and others.

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About the Author:

S. Kelley Harrell is an author and neoshaman in North Carolina.

He's making pizza when we arrive.

I climb up on a chair next to the counter so that I stand level with the frozen pie covered with strips of ham and plastic cheese. He asks me if I like adding things to pizzas, and I say yes. Mama kisses me and leaves for the church meeting as I pile on sandwich meat.

He smiles at me as he gives me more ham to arrange, asks what I want to do for the evening. I say I don't know, and he slides our supper into the oven as we focus on the news, and I think this time, maybe this time will be different.

But as we sit down to eat, I feel his hand on my knee and I try to keep my eyes above the table because I know if I look down, it will be out and I don't want to see it. My pizza tastes like nothing and I think I looked, but I didn't mean to.

The couch is always crowded with him, and I have to lie that much closer and I'm cold where my skin is exposed.

His hands are there. He asks me if I like it, but I say no and he sounds surprised. I reconsider and decide I don't like it, though I reconsider.

He tells me to touch where he's out and I do, but I must have done it wrong because he tells me I don't have to.

So I don't anymore, and I look down from somewhere above us.

He says we are playing, but I just feel burning, there, like when I'm sick, like when I have to go to the doctor, and I wonder if I will have to go to the doctor again because I'm burning. He asks me if it feels good and I say no. He asks me if I like to play and I say no, but I don't think he believes me because he keeps playing.

He tells me that I am special and that we have a secret, and that I can spend the night, and that if I spend the night, we can play all night and no one will know. And I suddenly see us in his room and I feel really warm in his bed, like I'm special, but I don't want to be in his room so I stop seeing it. I say I don't want to spend the night, and he says I don't have to.

I know the TV is on but all I see is its blue haze over the room, the mirror on the mantle. I watch the reflection, hoping to see something there that will stop this, looking for Mama's headlights for when she will be back to get me. I think of how a seven-year-old would never put up with this, how tomorrow is my birthday, and everything will be different then, and how after I'm a year older, I won't let this happen anymore. I see myself in my Wonder Woman UNDEROOS, a super power saving the world, saving them all, and then I see her headlights in the mirror lighting the room. He must have seen them, too, because we stop playing and he jumps up and I know things will be different tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, I'll make them different.

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