A recurring vision:
I see myself before me. She (for my point of view is not at my vision-self) is facing away from me (my point of view). I’m behind her, a few feet, off to the right. She is usually dressed in whatever clothing I was dressed in before the vision overtakes me. She is standing, with her hands held before her chest, palms pressed together. It appears she is praying. Her eyes are open.
I have the sense that she is standing in a sacred place. But where and of what type, I do not see. It could be a forest clearing, a marble floor, a sandy beach. I only know that where she is, has been set apart. (But not necessarily ‘holy’.)
She suddenly shifts her weight. The right leg shifts slightly behind. She starts to descend to one knee. As she drops, her hands rise, separates, and moves apart, usually remains at her shoulders’ level. Sometimes her hands drop down, held away from her body. Her head drops, giving the impression she is bearing a great invisible weight upon her shoulders. Her eyes close, and her face settles into serene bliss.
But she is showing submission. Her body posture declares that she is a servant to the one (those?) she is facing. She is physically speaking that she is a tool available to be used.
Sometimes, I see offerings in her hands. Bowls of flowers. Garlands hanging off her fingers. Bowls of flame. Platters with lit candles. Beer. Bowls with water or with milk. Sometimes the bowls are empty. She holds them out, neither expecting nor asking for them to be filled, but rather showing how empty she has poured herself out for the object of her attention.
The vision ends with her in this supplicant position. I never see to who or to what she is making her supplications. I never see anything other than her. The lighting surrounding us is clear when I look at her, but completely obscures anything other than her. The color changes from each vision to the next. It ranges from pink-tinged white, to a gentle salmon pink, to a delicate baby blue. Never any shade of green. Never any shade of purple or crimson. Never fades to, or from, grey or black.
The total (real) time spent in the vision is maybe 2 seconds. The amount of time that passes within the vision, about 2 minutes.
This is ~not~ normal behaviour for me. Not anymore. During my Christian days, I did a lot of “floor time” in the church’s sanctuary. As a female, there were many (voluntary) moments of visual submission before pastor & congregation. And while each time, I would be bidden to rise and stand, I still had to endure being Less Than Everyone Else because of my gender and (lack of) marital status. If I kneel before anyone now, it is because I won’t stand for anyone’s shit. (Read: I don’t kneel for anyone.)
I have no altar. There is no temple or sacred space that I have access to. I have no idols, totems, or physical representation of the Powers I adore. This vision confuses me. I have tried to take on this position during times of solitude. The anger that overtakes me is scary. When I read the interview of Galina Krasskova by Kenaz Filan, the vision came over me so strongly, I was utterly disoriented when it ended.
The vision now demands to be written, and shared. And so I have. Make of it, what you may.