The farm house we lived in while I was growing up was two and a half stories. That last story was considered a half story because the roof was slanted on all four sides, but the center of it, which was at least 12X12 feet, you could not only stand up in but you could not reach the ceiling. So to me, it was a 3 story house. The roof top had a small square balcony area right at the top that you could access with a ladder. My parents decided that instead of that, they wanted to install a skylight, which they did. That was a game changer! After that, as long as it was daylight, you could see everywhere in the attic. And at night, with lights turned off, you could see the array of stars in the nighttime sky. Now and then I would take my sleeping bag up there and lay on a cot and just watch the stars…as well as other things that flew through the sky at night.
Truthfully, the attic was my favorite room in the entire house. If I was not out hiking in the bush or riding horseback, or tending to livestock or gardens, I was mostly in the attic. That was the room with the history. It had bookshelves full of a vast variety of books on a plethora of subject matter. It had antique furniture that was passed down from generations of family lines. It had seasonal stuff that was stored in one corner. I set up a seating area with a loveseat and a chair, as well as a coffee table and an end table. This is where I enjoyed going to sit and read and often meditate. Yes, it smelled a bit musty. After all, old things usually do, which is something that I am becoming reacquainted with as I myself age! I wanted to also put a floor lamp in there for ambiance, but there were no electric outlets other than the overhead light. So I would take some antique oil lamps up there and light them. That was something that I had to sincerely promise my mother I would be responsible about, which I was.
Sometimes in our home circumstances would change and people would trade bedrooms for whatever reason. I was thrilled when my mother wanted to switch bedrooms with me, because that meant that I would not only get the larger bedroom, but I would also have access to the attic door, which was off of the bedroom. That also meant that, in the middle of the night, if I could not sleep, I could walk up the stairs and read by the light of an oil lamp. It was fabulous!
I have often found myself back there in my dreams. I have come to understand that, at least in MY dreams, the house represents levels of consciousness. The basement is the subconscious, the main level is the conscious, the upper level is the higher conscious, and the attic is the super conscious. So when I have dreams of the old farm house, I always take this into consideration. After all, the attic was the place where I learned of my deep connection to my grandmother who had died years before I was ever born. She is still with me to this day, helping and guiding me with my magical and healing practices.
The attic, however, was not always a place of peace for me. When I was around 16 I was asleep in my bed in the bedroom that had the attic door. This particular night was significant in that I had gone on a date with a girlfriend from school and we had a really nice time. I got home around 11:00 and went to bed. At around 3:30 am, according to my bedside clock, I heard a strange sound. At first I thought it was from outside. It sounded like some kind of animal huffing, like when a horse is breathing heavily after a run, but much deeper. We did have all sorts of wild animals wonder through the yard from time to time, and I was going to look out the window to see what it was, but then found I could not move at all. The sound continued but was then accompanied by what sounded like hooves, and it was not from outside, it was from above my room, in the attic! My heart began to race and I tried to call out for help, but no sound would come out of me. I was facing the side of the room where the attic door was, and beneath the door there was a strange, flickering light. I was afraid that there was a fire, but it was not that at all. The footsteps began descending the stairs to the attic. Whatever this was, it was coming down and going to get into my room! Paralyzed, all I could do was watch in terror as the hooves of whatever this was reached the landing and paced to and froe on the other side of the attic door. The light turned from a weird yellow to a deep red. I could hear it huffing and puffing on the other side of the door, and the doorknob began to rattle and shake, not quite turning. I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest. Suddenly whatever this thing was bellowed so loudly that my room shook. I could not figure out why nobody else in the house was hearing this or responding. As soon as it was done bellowing, the light behind the door went out and there was total silence. I still could not move. But it was like whatever that was completely vanished. I lay there awake until sunrise and, for some reason, when the sunlight came through my window I could suddenly physically move again.
That morning I asked if anyone heard anything through the night. Nobody did. This left me with a gigantic question mark above my head. Had I experienced some form of hallucination? I knew I was wide awake, because I stayed wide awake until sunrise. So…??? Admittedly, this rather tainted my love of the attic for awhile. I found myself avoiding it for weeks. And at night I would lock the door and wedge a chair up against the door under the doorknob so that it would be less likely to open. When I did finally venture up there, I took sage with me and smudged the heck out of the room, and smudged the heck out of all the contents. I would take each book off the shelf and smudge it, page by page. It took forever and the room was thick and blue with smoke. But I was determined that whatever that was had to get GONE.
After a couple of months, I found myself drawn to the attic some more. So my old habits of retreating up there and reading or meditating resumed. A couple of times I thought that I faintly heard the huffing and puffing, but when I would look around there was nothing. Then, one night, I was up there with the oil lamps on reading a book and felt like I was being watched. You know that creepy feeling when the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you know someone else is in the room? That was what I was experiencing. I slowly put the book down and stood up. I looked around, gathered my courage, and said, “Okay, whoever you are, show yourself, because I am tired of this shit.” Yellow eyes opened from the far corner of the room, from within the shadows. I thought it was some animal that had somehow found its way in. But then, as it emerged from the shadows, the eyes rose upward. This being was standing up and approaching and it was TALL. At that time I was 6’2″, and it towered over me. Again, I suddenly felt like I could not move. It stepped forward, this humanoid but not quite human being, and stopped about five feet away from me. I found, though, that as soon as I could actually see what it looked like, I became very calm, peaceful even. I felt connected and, for some reason, quite protected.
I looked up at him (it was a male for sure) and assessed his appearance. Now I don’t normally judge people on their appearances, but this was not really a “person” as such. He was about seven and a half feet tall, had hooves for feet, hairy legs (like fur), wore what looked like a tattered pair of shorts, was bare-chested but quite muscular, was wearing a tan colored vest, had massive shoulders and muscular arms with fingers that looked like they had claws instead of fingernails, and a face that seemed somewhat human, but with an extended jaw and a snout for a nose. The eyes were yellow/gold and he had what looked like deer ears. There was also a set of horns extending from his cranium that went out to the side and then curled, giving him a bit of an appearance like a big horned sheep. Now, many people would read this and think, “RUN! IT’S THE DEVIL!”, but, as I said, I felt protected, peaceful and calm. He did not move any closer than about five feet from me. I introduced myself and he said he already knew who I was.
The exchange between us was not verbal, but telepathic. I could tell that he spoke a different language than I, but on a thought wave form, we understood eachother with great clarity. I asked him why he was here, in the attic? He said that he was here to protect me, as I was gifted with many forms of magic from my ancestral lines. I wondered why I would then need protection and he immediately responded with, “Because magical people are far too often murdered in your realm.” I knew he was right. I descended from many people who were eventually burned as witches or stoned to death because they were mystical, or crucified because no one understood their messages of peace and harmony among all people. To this day I have carried with me that heritage and yet, because of my calling, I am more public than any of my ancestors dared to be. Perhaps one day there will be a moment when that public knowledge of who I am turns against me, as it did for my ancestors. But for now, in this place and time, I am encouraged to continue with the mission that they, themselves, had set before them. At least for me I live in a place on Earth where it is considered illegal to kill someone for their spiritual beliefs. In theory anyway. But the problem lies with the fact that the laws protecting one from such things come into effect AFTER the fact, not before. Nonetheless, this being was here to protect me. I did not know immediately what that would look like.
Over the years I have found that it can look a number of ways, some very subtle and some more forceful. Whichever way it turns depends upon the agenda of those who have wished to do me harm. I am grateful for this protection. I don’t live my life relying upon it, as that would be careless. This is why I have many acquaintences, but very few friends in my inner circle. It is always best to proceed, but to do so with caution. To this day this being has been with me, watching over me, protecting me and sometimes guiding me. Yes, I do know where he is from, but I don’t care to say where that is. I will say that it is not Hell or anything to do with Christian biases. For me, he is simply a fellow inhabitant of the Universe, as is everyone else. And, speaking of which, those horns are not an anomaly. I have found over the years that in encountering many inter-dimensional beings, that WE are the anomaly with that. We are the ones who lack horns. If anything, they should be afraid of US and our ridiculous behavior when it comes to anything that we perceive as “different.” We can be quite savage about that sort of thing. That is why my ancestors were so often put to death. Savagery. It kills people.
Although it has been years since I have even been to visit the farm house where I grew up (it is now a hollow shell of an abandoned building), I will always remember that attic and how important it was for me. I will always be grateful that it was a safe place in which to have my first encounter with a guardian being.