I am a boy, perhaps eight or nine years old. I meet an alien and his friends. First as lights and transparent football size transparent and organic orbs. Then as humanoids. And then he takes the form of a small old man. They visit several times. He is wise and kind.
After a while, I ask him if he can heal me (of the CFS). He smiles and says no. There is a reason I have it. It helps me learn something. He cannot take it away, at least not right now.
He also tells me he cannot touch my mother. Later, when he meets my mother and I introduce him to her (“this is George, he is a nice neighbor who helps me with the gardening”), she wants to shake hands with him. He sends me a look and I remember and tells her he cannot shake hands because he has eczema. I understand that if he touched her, it would not be good for her health.
I am not afraid of him or his friends. There is a deep feeling of kindness, wisdom, and friendship with them and him in particular.
The dream is vivid and real. When I wake up, it’s as if I can still feel his presence.
When I ask if he can heal me, I am briefly my current age. I knew in advance the situation and his answer but wanted to ask before he would leave. I knew the visit wouldn’t last very long.
In the beginning, I saw the lights with my friends. They also were not afraid. And he did help me with some gardening after he took a human form.
There was something with my mother so he couldn’t touch her. Something that made them incompatible and made it dangerous for her to touch him.
I felt deeply understood by them and him. They knew more about me – what I thought, felt, wished for, my history – than I did. And there was a deep sense of kindness, wisdom, and friendship.
I knew he could heal almost anything if it was right. But for me, it was not right. The illness is here for a purpose. It is here for me to transform and learn from it. To deepen as a human being and as a soul or spirit.
The dream was strong and vivid. It also had the feel of an eighties movie – like Close Encounters or ET, although a more mature and grown-up version.
As I write this, I remember a friend called George I did gardening with. He was am older English gentleman at the Zen center in Salt Lake City who had a landscaping business and we worked together for a while. He was kind, wise, and gentle just like “George” in the dream. Although George in the dream didn’t have human limitations.
This is what I wrote immediately after waking up. The sense of love and being understood was strong. As I reflect on it now, it seems a little different. In the dream, I treated the alien almost as a divine being but he was just another physical being like me – although with some special abilities. I see the projections that happened in the dream.
Apart from that, it may be that the dream invites me to explore further how I can allow the illness to transform me in a more healthy direction. If life is kind, and there is an invitation in the illness, what is the invitation?