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.