I was around 20 when I began to dream something a little different, a warning more than an absolute. In it I saw a group of men who were/are hell bent on killing me before I can meet my destiny. All of these men are at the very least 20 yrs older than me; there is nothing remarkable in their appearance. They are in fact all gray haired, 60ish, non-descript men who would never stick out in a crowd.

That's like the perfect camouflage, it makes them almost invisible. After I had this dream several times I knew that they were presently searching for me and they still are.

I don't know if they know each other, but they can sense me when I'm near them; I sense them as well.

The dreams of these men stopped as soon as I clearly understood the danger these men represent, yet I lacked the knowledge of how to defend myself both physically and magickally. At that age it was easy to forget that I wasn't 10 ft tall and bullet-proof. Someone, Grandfather most likely, wanted me to know well in advance that these men do indeed exist and they are constantly driven to find me and rudely disrupt my future by cutting it short.

I have to stop and say something here about how writing this stuff sometimes makes me tremble. I don't know if its because these are things most people who know me know nothing about, or I was vague in what I did tell them, not to be mysterious, but because its more difficult for me to speak what I see in my dreams. I also worry that the wrong people will read this and come looking for me in the near future.

There have been three different reactions to my telling people what I dream - fear and immediate rejection, sometimes accompanied by anger; or people are convinced I'm either crazy and/or on some serious drugs; then there's my favorite where I'm asked what I see and what I know about it before I even mention my dreams.

As a child I had almost constant problems with my tonsils, so when I was seven they removed them the day after Christmas. I remember sleeping after the surgery and I had a dream that I was a tall, strawberry blond woman with blue eyes. My hair was in long braids and I wore strange clothing. We were on my ship at sea and got caught in a terrifying storm and the crew was considering tossing me overboard to appease the jealous sea. Before they could do any such thing we were swallowed by a gigantic wave.

Sixteen years later I had already realized the time and culture I saw in the dream, it was totally Viking. What I found amazing was the fact the only thing I knew about Vikings when I was seven was "Hagar the Horrible" in the comics. This led to another revelation: the dream was actually a past life memory.

I remember waking up to see my mom sitting next to the bed and in a drugged state I told her, "I told you life was just a dream."

I have been told on several occasions that I have a very old soul even before I knew what that meant.

I had dreams of an ancient city with distinctive architecture, I was "familiar" with the places I saw, but I had never seen them in my waking life. I went to the library and followed a hunch and looked up Amsterdam and sure as shit I found pictures of historical buildings and streets and I knew I had lived there in a past life.

I started out with blond hair and it turned brown before I started school. I knew what color my hair was, yet every time I looked in the mirror I was shocked that my hair was not red. I dyed my hair when I was 16 in an effort to take out the sun streaks and it turned my hair red. It looked totally natural and no one in school noticed it was different for like 6 months. Needless to say I keep it red and am no longer shocked to see my hair in the mirror.

There are a lot of opinions about how free will and destiny or fate can both exist, at least I struggled with this for years. No matter how I tried to get away from my destiny its never worked and I end up living out something my dreams have shown me anyway.

I didn't understand how it seemed my fate was somehow stronger than my free will until I realized that eons ago of my own free will I took a vow or something to live out that destiny when the lifetime came. This is that lifetime.

All of my current life has been nothing but about preparation for what is to come. Grandfather taught me things I'm not even aware I know until a situation arises and what I need to know comes to me instantly.

One main theme he stressed over and over was ethics. Ethics in the use of my knowledge and my abilities. I learned that all life is connected and to respect it and hold it sacred in all its forms.

He didn't teach me the colors of the four directions or anything like that, he taught me how to hone my abilities, and to direct my will with my words. He also taught me defensive magik, as he said I have to be able to protect myself and there will come a time when I will need all of what he taught me in order to fulfill my destiny.

Now for that billion dollar question: What is my destiny? Here's the kicker, I have no frakking clue. How rich is that? LOL Yes I can laugh at myself and I do so often.

Things I have seen myself do in these dreams leads me to the conclusion that I will do what's necessary to survive and help others do the same. I've seen myself shooting at people (and hitting them), blowing things up, sewing people back together and leading them.

Where am I leading them? Good question since I seem to live a somewhat nomadic life in my dreams. I can't stay in any given place for too long, at least that's how it looks to me,

In 1984 the Soviet leader Yuri Andropov died and several days later Konstantin Chernenko took his place. I watched the news report on TV one evening and had a dream that night he died of pneumonia. It was so real I expected to see it on the news the next day. About a year later I saw on the news he had died of a "respitory illness". I talked to my mother about it and she suggested I start keeping a dream journal.

Around this time I started dreaming something new. It was the aftermath of a flood, not a little flood either; bridges were either underwater or had been washed out all together. I don't know where it was and I still don't. I often see myself in places I've never been to in my waking life, but sometimes I do sense a direction but not always.

It disturbed me because I knew a lot of people had died in the flood, and just like the bridges and roads there were a lot of houses and other buildings underwater too. The only location clue I had was that the area had a lot of rolling hills, but hell that could describe any number of places.

I also began dreaming about driving down a road and passing under overpasses and bridges that were two and three high. For years I thought these would be built in my home town.

It was during my teen's that I began to dream about war on U.S. soil. It was very real, lots of blood and gore and death. A lot of fear and confusion was in the air, along with anger, grief, and sheer panic. There was a lot of fire and smoke and chaos and destruction. All I could see were uniforms, no insignia, nothing I could identify. Years later through repetitive dreams I realized the "enemy" was us truly, our very own military.

I also had dreams that involved the immediate future in my own life. Early in the summer between my junior and senior years of high school I started dreaming that I was attending a much larger school than the one in which I was enrolled. The main parts of the building had at least 2 stories and I felt alone among a lot of strangers.

As it turned out my world got pretty much turned upside down that summer and because of it I was put in that same exact school that fall. I hated it, I only knew a small handful of students there from elementary and junior high.

My senior year I had to deal with a lot of physical pain and this affected both my sleep and my dreams. My dreams became even more violent and bloody. I would have enough of the nightmares sometime between 3 and 4 AM, and lay there awake for several hours waiting for the alarm clock to go off. I was in severe pain most of the day, everyday. I was getting depressed because the doctor I was going to wasn't helping at all and I continued to get worse.

I wanted to die, I hurt that bad. For whatever reason the pain was always worse after lunch period. I hurt so much I couldn't concentrate enough to read, and after attempting to read the same paragraph for the fifth time, I stopped and said to myself, "I wish I could stop hurting for just 5 minutes."

The next thing I knew I was looking down at myself looking at my book and the others in the classroom. I went through the window and felt so free, there was no pain until I slipped back into my body right before the bell rang.

I told my sister about my experience and described the place I had "visited" and she asked me if I was high. LOL

My mother thought the pain was making me go crazy and she called a different doctor. He put me on a sleeping pill and some nerve medication, but I still woke up at 3 or 4 in the morning, and I was still in a lot of pain.

I ended up in the hospital a week later and my new doctor found the problem and I took some medication and was completely pain free within four months.

One night Mom and I watched a movie she had rented named "Red Dawn", and I started crying and got upset. She looked at me and I said, "This is like what I dream!" It wasn't exactly the same, but it was very similar.

At one point I stopped watching movies that had anything to do with war, I saw more than I cared for in my dreams at night and I just didn't feel like watching it while I was awake too.

The second dream was even more frightening. In it I watched an elderly Cherokee man searching nervously for something in a kitchen. What he found was a plain wood box with a glass lid on it and inside was a dead white spider.

As he was pulling it toward him someone (one of his own sons, I was to find out later) kicked in the rickety old door and shot his father in the back twice.

He fell forward and his weight cracked the glass lid and his blood dripped onto the dead spider and it came back to life as he died.

I hated this dream and it repeated itself many times. Eventually the shock of something dead coming back to life wore off (believe it or not) and I was able to understand what I was dreaming had happened long before I was born into this lifetime.

I sensed we were related by blood and I began to think of him as "Grandfather". I wanted to know more about him, maybe find confirmation of what I had seen in the dreams. I told my maternal grandfather about my dream and he got a weird look on his face -fear, I think- and he said, "You're one of them, aren't ya girl?" He hurried away from me as quick as he could.

I decided not to talk about my dreams much with anyone for quite sometime because I didn't want any more negative reactions.

That weekend my paternal grandmother had a heart attack and went to the hospital. She passed away about a week and a half later. I knew the moment it happened, I sensed it and told my best friend at school. She asked how I knew that and I told her I had felt it. Funny, she never acted like it was out of the ordinary.

That afternoon when I got home from school my mother was waiting for me and my sister in the front yard. She told us Grandma had passed away that morning. I told her I knew and that I also knew when it happened.

My parents freaked!! I can see why; they believed it was something evil, this "gift" of mine. I don't judge them harshly or at all for that matter; they believed they were helping me, but what happened next didn't help- it traumatized me.

They spoke with their pastor and he put them in touch with a self-proclaimed demonologist. He came to their church and prayed over me in the pastor's office with my parents, the pastor and all the deacons of their church. He tried to pray the evil out of me, but what it did was scare the shit out of me.

I wasn't possessed or in need of saving. In my 13 yr old mind, since nothing came out of me while they all raised their hands and prayed over me I must have been their evil and that meant the Christian god hated me because He hates evil.

I couldn't accept the "evil" thing, I figured I would know if I was or not.

After that I didn't talk to my parents about my dreams and I didn't share them much with anyone until I was older.

Introduction

Hi there! I'm DarkStar, and you have just entered a realm much like the Twilight Zone, lol!
Since this is my first post it only makes sense to start at the beginning.
I believe I have had precognitive dreams since at least the age of 4 or 5. What little I can recall from that time were still simple dreams of things a child's mind could comprehend. For example, a dream of going grocery shopping with my mother and little sister. A few days later we did go shopping and we went to the same store, parked in the same space, and were wearing exactly what I saw on us in my dream.
As a child I assumed everyone had dreams like mine, but I didn't learn how wrong I was until I was 13. That's when my dreams began to show me events that were far from being the simple dreams of a young girl of 4.
The precognitive dreams began to repeat themselves; there were 2 and both were about death, and very scary at that age.
The first one showed me in a fatal car wreck. I was in the passengers seat and I couldn't see who was driving. I did see the car was red though. We were driving down a highway, there was several inches of snow on the ground. As the car came out of a curve we were approaching a bridge over a dry riverbed. We hit a patch of ice and skidded into the end of the bridge and plunged straight down into the riverbed where the car exploded on impact.
I dreamed this over and over, night after night and I was frightened. One morning while eating breakfast I announced with certainty someone in our family would die within 2 weeks time.
This certainty didn't come from a dream I could remember, I just woke up knowing it would happen. I don't recall now what my parents' reactions were, but I doubt they took it as good news, or if they even took it seriously.