I will call him Charcoal, in order to tell the story. I change his name out of respect for his death. He died tragically, and to share his name with strangers just does not seem right.
I met him when I was 8 or 9, he attended rituals in the Pagan community in which my parents played a role. I had an inside joke with him, I called him "Mom" and he, in turn, called me "Grandma". I knew even then, that we were playing with energy and identity because some witches can see into the roles we play on the surface and deeper into them to other kinds of identity. Charcoal was that kind of witch.
I hesitate to write about the Pagan experience because it is so often misunderstood and exploited in order to shock and entertain. Charcoal was the kind of witch who brought his whole self, shadows and all, to everything he did.
He had some bad habits, and it was the 1980s and he became infected with HIV, and eventually he was sick with AIDS. He was dying, and I was 16. I remember vaguely the last few times my mother mentioned visiting him. He was estranged from his family for a number of reasons. One would think, this is where the story ends but in fact, it just pauses.
Last night, in the dreamtime, I was shown a view of him and asked to help him on his way. This is a matter of energy work and helping the energy of a deceased person find his way to the next realm. I showed him he could purge himself of whatever he still carried, and that he could fly. I had part of his name in the dream, because there was something obscuring his whole name. While I took care of much of what was asked of me in the dream, the energy stayed with me into the next day.
That was today, and earlier I finished the communication with him and sent him on his way. I could feel the prayers and magic worked and that he was now moving on. When I came home from where I had been today, I knew I needed to get still and close my eyes. I did so. Now, there is a peace where the feeling of unrest used to be. He can fly now, as he was always meant to.
