How to use Intuition to Access Your Psychic Abilities

“Cease trying to work everything out with your minds. It will get you nowhere. Live by intuition and inspiration and let your whole life be Revelation.”
Eileen Caddy

 

 

We all have intuitive abilities – intuition is a glorious part of our human condition.  Problem is, most of us don’t know how to use it.

Today I’m going to take myself right back to the beginning. I’ll share with you some of the stronger intuitive moments I had before I began to really work with my psychic abilities.  I hope that by sharing them, you’ll be better able to recognise these moments in your own lives.  These aren’t fancy or sophisticated.  These are raw moments that led me to a different decision, understanding or action than if I’d just been coming from my head.

The more you listen to your intuition, the more your body attunes to those messages. It begins to heighten your sensitivity. This then begins to develop your extraordinary sensory perception (ESP) and opens the door to your psychic capabilities. All of the small messages to which we pay attention pave the way for the stronger and more important messages to come.

Intuition and gut instinct communicate with us in so many ways. You might get a flash of strong emotion, an image or a movie in your head, a feeling in your body, a sense of deja vu.  You might have an incredibly vivid dream, or a waking dream. Or, you might just know…

Here are some of my own experiences, as a guide for you.

Some of them weren’t about positive things:

In primary school I woke up in the middle of the night because something was wrong.  I could smell smoke, and I felt very anxious. I padded through the house in my pyjamas, but everyone was asleep and everything was as it should be. I climbed back into bed and all I could think about was a girl I knew at school. I wondered if she was angry with me.  The next morning I found out that her house had burned down in the middle of the night.  They were all okay. And their house was too far away from mine for me to have heard a siren or to have smelled anything.  They lost everything.

Image by Martin van Rensburg.

Early in high school, I had a creepy feeling about a family friend. While everyone else liked him, he made me incredibly uneasy. To me his eyes looked ‘too bright’ – like a bird’s eyes’s somehow, always watching, and watching too intensely. Although I couldn’t explain it, I felt very unsafe around him, and I felt that he was full of secrets. Nothing could convince me that he was a nice guy. I could ‘feel’ a wrongness about him somehow.  One day when I was left at home alone with him (he was working as a tradesman and I was home sick from school) he tried to sexually assault me. Mum came home unexpectedly, and I made sure after that to never be around him alone.  Years later, he went to prison – convicted of serial pedophilia and child pornography crimes, mostly against very young boys.

During a university break, a friend asked me to travel north to pick up a car she had just purchased.  We would drive it home together, stopping at beaches and interesting places along the way. Initially I said yes. It sounded like fun. But then everything seemed to conspire against me. I couldn’t get time off from work, I got food poisoning, one of my grandparents went to hospital. Nothing was working in my favour. I ended up saying no, but instead of feeling bad, I was flooded with this strange sense of relief. About two days after she left for her journey I got this metallic taste in my mouth, and I could smell something like hot brakes on a car.  Then I had a tumbling sensation, like being on one of those wild rides at a sideshow.  It came and went for about a week, and I found it distressing, but I had no idea what it was all about. Then it just stopped.  A few days later my friend’s parents called to me she had rolled her car on a dirt road heading down  a hill to a remote beach, and been badly injured. She spent months in hospital.


Some of my intuitive experiences have also been about very positive things:

At primary school I sat an examination to win a scholarship to one of Brisbane’s private high schools. Part of the examination required us to write creatively using one of a range of sentences as a starter. The words poured out of me and I just knew they were good. Although I felt unsure about my performance with the rest of the long examination, I was sure about that essay.  I knew it would win me a scholarship.  I felt a great certainty. The day that the letter came, I also knew. I just knew something really good was about to happen.  I felt light and happy all day.  When I came home mum had bought a cake and my grandparents had bought me a posy of flowers. My letter of offer was propped up on the kitchen table beside them. I’d won.

Image from calypsoflowers.com.au

One day I was invited to a costume party.  I had no costume, and no idea where to get one from. I had to drive across town to meet a friend, and for some reason I decided not to take the freeway.  As I drove through a particular suburb, I decided for some inexplicable reason to turn right off the main road.  There in front of me was a massive costume hire place. I felt so very clever! And I found an awesome pirate outfit…

Image from gumtree.com

Many of you will already know this story, and it has happened long after I began working with my psychic gifts.  But it shows you how my intuition is still guiding me, even when my mind is somewhere else.  I was shopping, late one scorchingly hot summer afternoon, and I heard a sound like a peeping chicken in the shopping centre carpark. I couldn’t ignore it.  I was compelled to go and investigate, although I needed to get home because I had plans I’d been looking forward to all day. Something made me get out of the car, and go looking for the chicken. Of course it wasn’t a chicken – instead I found a tiny puppy, almost dead from heat and dehydration. I brought him home, and took him to the vet, who didn’t hold out much hope that he would survive the night. He proved everyone wrong, and Bert became a wonderful member of our family.

Beautiful Bert!

All you ever have to do with your intuition is listen, and go with what you are feeling or being shown. The more you use it, the easier it gets.  Intuition becomes stronger. Your senses become attuned to more of the flow of Universal wisdom and energy. We are all intuitive. That is our birthright. Like me, sometimes in life, for no apparent reason, you’ll just know.

Often, as people move into a space of psychic awakening, their daily lives becomes a constant stream of intuitive thoughts and experiences. This can be very confronting or disruptive but it settles down quickly the more that you honour and accept this intuitive aspect of yourself.

How about you? What has happened for you in your life that was guided by intuition? I’d love to know!

Much love to you, Nicole xx

Psychic Connection and Soul Mates – Monday Oracle 3 April 2017

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”
~ John Joseph Powell

 

Hello, Lovelies!

Here’s the oracle card I have chosen this Monday, and my take on the energetic outlook for the week ahead. I use any oracle or tarot cards shown as a prompt for channelled messages and my own intuitive wisdom, so my take is sometimes quite different to the meaning found in a book. ‘Soulmate’ is from the Chakra Wisdom Oracle Deck by Tori Hartman.

If you read my forecast for April, you’ll remember that April is all about the mind, our thoughts and self-talk. It’s a month for untangling old not-good-enough stories as we identify what’s working, what’s broken and where to from here.

So, what gifts does Soulmate bring for you this week?

It’s a card about connection, wisdom and tuning in.

This card gently reminds us that our head holds our mind as well as our Third Eye and Crown Chakras. Our mind is a lot like a computer. We exist as consciousness outside of our mind. Our mind does not define who we are – our mind is merely a tool and a governing agent for our body and systems.

We are not just our minds. We are also our emotions. We are also our experiences. We are also our intuition. We are souls having human experiences. Our Crown and Third Eye Chakras are gateways for Universal Flow. We are so much more than just our minds. And EVERYONE is made this way.

This is a big week for intuition and spiritual awareness. It’s a week where inspiration will come, where dreams will hold answers, where spiritual and psychic connection will happen easily and well.

Most importantly it’s a week where your soul and your own inner wisdom will help you to use your mind positively and productively. This week you can reach deep levels of awareness and understanding.

And those of you who were hoping that this was a post about FINALLY finding your true love?

Well, you can use your mind and your intuition to get clear about what you want in a relationship and then draw that to you. Don’t know how? I’ve created a range of activities and a guided meditation that you can use to guide you here.

It’s also a great week for falling in love! <3

Supportive crystals this week?

Snowflake Obsidian will help to remove old negative self-talk and replace it with optimism. Selenite will help you to connect into your guides, angels and psychic ability. Amethyst will truly boost your intuitive abilities and help you on your spiritual path.  Rose Quartz if you’re ready to attract love.

Helpful essential oils? 

Young Living’s Envision essential oil blend, or a combination (or singly!) of any of Geranium, Spruce, Ylang Ylang and Frankincense. Envision oil is one of the oils I use with my students when I teach my intuition and channelling classes. It calms your mind and opens your awareness – and it smells so good! It’s a combination of spruce, orange, sage, geranium, lavender and rose. Just brilliant for connecting heart and mind, and for gently opening you to your psychic capabilities It’s my oil of choice in my diffuser this week. You can find all the oils here.

Holding you, as always, in my thoughts, prayers and meditations, and intending for a you a life of abundance and joy, where you are no longer limited by your doubts.

All my love,

Nicole ❤ xx

Image from ruthking.net

Acceptance – A Short Documentary about Owning Who You Are

2016-07-20-14-31-49

“The things that make me different are the things that make me.”  ~ A.A. Milne

“You are always welcome at my table.” ~ Nicole Cody

 

Last year I invited my friend Kerry Warnholtz to come spend some time with me as I prepared for and then ran my Chakra Wisdoms retreat.

Kerry is a talented photographer and videographer who sees the world through soulful and ever-watchful eyes. I hoped that she might be able to capture some footage and a few stills for my new website. My brief to her was that I wanted her to somehow show the love and care I put into each event that I run, and how precious each of my students is to me – how much I take that teaching and mentoring responsibility into my heart.

Kerry didn’t just capture that – she captured me – a little snapshot into my life, and the struggles I have had in coming to a place of self-acceptance. This short film speaks a lot to my WHY – why I do what I do – and I thought many of you might relate to the struggles I had in my earlier life to accept myself as I am.

What I want you to know, more than anything, is that I believe in you and that I want you to be who you are and be true to yourself. Being you is the most important thing you can do, and it’s time. The world needs us to stop pretending to be who we are not or to represent ourselves in the world as less than we are. It’s time to embrace ourselves and each other in all of our glorious diversity and similarity.

So, watch this little documentary. Come meet me at my farm, and in my life, and know that you are always welcome at my table.

You are among friends here.

Thanks for sharing the journey with me,

Nicole <3 xx

 

PS – If you want to see more of Kerry’s wonderful work you can find her at www.tsi-multimedia.com

10 Signs You are Experiencing a Psychic Awakening

Image from www.wall321.com

Image from www.wall321.com

“I suspect everybody has a degree of psychic ability, just as a everybody has a degree of athletic or artistic ability. Some people have special gifts; other people have a particular interest that leads them to develop their abilities. But the phenomenon itself is ordinary and widespread.” 
~ Michael Crichton, Travels

 

There’s a difference between ‘spiritual awareness’ and full on ‘psychic awakening’. Spiritual awareness happens when we begin to understand that there is more to the Universe than meets the eye. This may be commonly expressed by such things as asking the Angels to find you an excellent parking spot right out the front of a crowded supermarket. Psychic awakening is a crazy ride, where your psychic and intuitive awareness becomes hyper-stimulated and hyper-alert, and where you cannot control how or when that happens.

Spiritual awareness leads to an opening of our hearts and to a period of personal and spiritual growth.

Psychic awakening leads to a path of service.

It can be unbearably uncomfortable and scary. But it does get easier. Here are ten signs that what you’re experiencing is an awakening of your psychic abilities:

1. Crowds become overwhelming, distressing and make you feel psychically battered and energetically drained.

2. Your dreams become increasing vivid and seem to contain messages, information and symbols that go beyond what your normal subconscious would put on the nightly view-screen of the inside of your eyelids. You remember these dreams, and keep thinking about them during the day, trying to work out what they mean.

Image from Wilde Life

Image from Wilde Life

3. You become confused at what people tell you, when part of you knows that the words they are saying don’t match their emotions, inner thoughts or energy. You can’t put it into words, but you feel that conflict and find it disturbing. You have no way to prove what you feel.

Image from Finance Fox

Image from Finance Fox

4. You get feelings of heat in your palms and fingers, your feet, around your heart, on your forehead around your third eye chakra, or in the top of your head. You may also get a sensation of moving energy or tingling.

Image from Can Stock Photo

Image from Can Stock Photo

5. Your sleep becomes disturbed. You wake up at 2am, wide awake and waiting for something. But what? Weirdly, by about 4am you can get back to sleep again, and you don’t become tired from this crazy routine.

Image from dinfo

Image from dinfo

6. You become suddenly attracted to crystals, healing arts and metaphysical tools. You may feel energy in stones, places or people, or access impressions or information if you touch a person or an object.

Image from groupon

Image from groupon

7. You get a fullness or a choking sensation in your throat (or throat chakra) like something is stuck there, or you want to speak, but there isn’t anything you can think of to say.

Image from WattPad

Image from WattPad

8. Electro-magnetic energy, wi-fi and electrical fields make you feel fuzzy, off-balance or exhausted. You feel immediately better in nature, or out of cities.

Image from BiPlane

Image from BiPlane

9. Your sense of deja vu increases, and you experience moments of having been somewhere before, reliving a conversation or performing an activity again, even if it really is the first time you have experienced this thing.

Image from asusta2

Image from asusta2

10. You know things about people or situations that prove to be correct, even though there is no way you could have consciously known about those things.

Image from Flow Of My Soul

Image from Flow Of My Soul

If this sounds like you, please don’t feel that there is something wrong with you, or that you are going crazy. Intuitive ability and psychic awakening is a normal part of our soul’s development. Modern western culture may no longer recognise the path you are taking, but it is very real, and you are not alone in this journey.

Trust that your time is now, and that you are very much needed in the world. Know that there is a place for you here in my tribe, and that I value you and all you are experiencing.

Bless Nicole xoxo

Image from imgfave

Image from imgfave

Circle in the Dust

Seven Sisters by Maggi Yilpi

Seven Sisters by Maggi Yilpi

“There were once two sisters
who were not afraid of the dark
because the dark was full of the other’s voice
across the room,
because even when the night was thick
and starless
they walked home together from the river
seeing who could last the longest
without turning on her flashlight,
not afraid
because sometimes in the pitch of night
they’d lie on their backs
in the middle of the path
and look up until the stars came back
and when they did,
they’d reach their arms up to touch them
and did.” 
~ Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

The next installment of my Kimberley Story

Have you ever totally underestimated the importance of something?

I know I have.

Sitting in a circle in the dust of the Kimberley with a bunch of old Aboriginal women was one of those times.

It’s laughable now, my ignorance. Some of those women were probably around the age I am today, but back then, with the arrogance of youth, to me they were all old. My Mum’s age at least for the youngest. Although Auntie and Grandmother were the age of my own grandparents. Or older.

The day after Little Auntie died is such an important day for me. Why didn’t I see it then?

While it was still early in the morning we walked out from the house, those women and I, and into the scrub. Behind us I could hear the wails of the rest of the women left grieving. I was sick with not belonging. Sick with a physical discomfort and a spiritual unrest. Why had I come? Why was I doing this?

But it was as if something in my soul compelled me. I can’t explain it any better than that.

On we walked until we’d left the township behind. We walked, and then we walked some more. Every so often one of the women would stop, and so we would all stop. She would regard a bird, a tree, some marks on the sandy ground. She might pull some leaves from a shrub.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, and in what seemed to me to be no particular spot, they sat down.

Auntie and another lady built a small fire. Other women broke branches from scrawny trees.

Every so often one of them would throw a pile of green leaves onto the flickering flames in our midst, sending up fragrant clouds of smoke.  From where I sat, most of it blew my way. My eyes watered. I sneezed. I didn’t know what to do, and no-one said anything to me so I simply sat there. One of them brushed me all over with a clump of green leaves which were then thrown into the fire too. From time to time the women sang, or made strange guttural noises. I was a little frightened by those noises. They were totally foreign to me, and made the hair on the back of my arms stand up.

Eventually the smoke died down, and no more leaves were added. My streaming eyes dried.

There had been singing, but now we were just sitting. We’d been sitting for hours, or so it seemed. Nothing but scrub around us. Scrub and open sky. My bottom was numb, my legs were all pins and needles. I’d lost count already of the number of times I’d asked myself what I was doing here.

This was so far removed from the life I knew. My world, on the other side of Australia, was ordered and logical – shaped by education and social graces. My world was about intellect and achievement. Life was organised and controlled, discussed and planned. And yet here I was, sitting in the dirt, with no idea what was going on.

What had I hoped to learn in coming here? The women around me had enjoyed little schooling and most had failing health. Some of them spoke only broken English. Their clothes were mismatched, worn and stained, no bras, no shoes, messy hair – everything my own Grandmothers would have admonished me about. My mind jumped from thought to thought, and increasingly those thoughts were negative. I was hot. I was thirsty and hungry. I was twenty-five years old and I had thought I knew everything. Now I just felt like an idiot.

Image from whealth.com.au

Image from whealth.com.au

Uncomfortable, tear-stained and confused I finally addressed the oldest one, Grandmother, looking straight at her. “What are we doing? Why am I here?” I asked. I couldn’t help it, I was plaintive, whinging even.

I knew she could speak English. The old woman ignored me, so I asked slower. Louder. Even now I am embarrassed thinking back…

I’d always been told I was smart; after all I went to a good school, I was University educated, a career girl. I had a genius IQ. But what I didn’t know then was manners.

Oh sure, I had Western manners, White Girl manners. But when you ask an Elder a question, the answer comes slowly. Best to come sit beside them, looking out in the direction they are looking out. Best not to look into their face. Best to ask politely.

And if the answer is important, if it’s really important, a really BIG question with a BIG answer then they’ll make you wait. They’ll give you that answer in dribs and drabs as you’re ready for it.

And if you’re not ready for it, they won’t tell you at all.

But I was white. I didn’t know those things. So in my ignorance I was rude, offensive and increasingly belligerent.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I shouted. “Why?”

None of the other women spoke. None of them even moved. I sat, a big white wriggley girl amongst women still as stone while the vast sun beat down upon us, making me redder and redder. I hated all of them, this stupid country, this stupid ceremony. Why didn’t they hurry up? Why had I even agreed to come?

Over and over in my mind I started saying, “I’m done with this. I just want to go home.” I might have even yelled it out. I’m not sure now.

Still, something made me stay, and after a while I settled down. Something overwhelmed me. Fatigue maybe, or heat exhaustion. On some level I stopped struggling and surrendered.

We sat there until the shadows grew long. My bladder, which was bursting, stopped bothering me. My body was taken over by stillness. I could have sat there forever.

Finally Grandmother nodded and one of them spoke. “I’m gonna give you a story,” Auntie said. “It plenty big. It gonna be your story now, sister-sister. You want dis? Dis okay by you?”

I nodded with relief. “Okay,” I said stupidly. And I never even asked what I was agreeing to.

She moved over beside me and placed one hand cupping my ear and one hand over my heart. I felt a surge of energy and heat. She began to talk in a voice soft as smoke, her language, not my own. I became hot and heavy and the tendrils of sound crept up inside me.

To be continued…

Image from flickr

Image by Lindy – flickr

Show me dem hands…

“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
~ Thich Nhat Hanh

The next installment of my Kimberley Story

The night that I sat up by the campfire with Auntie I knew I was making choices. I knew I was making decisions that would affect the rest of my life. I just didn’t know what I was really getting into.  If I had, perhaps I may have chosen differently.

I’d endured a huge argument with my partner when I finally went back to our room. He couldn’t understand why I had spent so long sitting in the dirt with an old, barefoot aboriginal woman. I couldn’t explain it myself. It was the beginning of a distance between us that would eventually end the relationship.

Weeks went by, out in my remote corner of the Outback. After Auntie came to visit me I tried to shrug off the sense of foreboding and concentrate on my work, and on trying to be ‘normal’. I know she had asked me to come visit her up in her country, but I felt uncomfortable to go.

Soon though, she sent a delegation. One Saturday morning Little Auntie and Grandmother turned up at our Cattle Station; two old ladies chauffeured in the Aboriginal Stockman’s brother’s big old red truck.

The Stockman came and banged on my door. “Auntie send some women for you. She bin watching you. You come have tea with dem.” It was an order, rather than a request.

Image from flickr

Image from flickr

It was a quiet time – the weekend – and I had two days off. My partner was away, working. All I had been doing was lying on my bed, reading a book. I could hardly say no.

Little Aunty was one of the tiniest women I had ever seen. She was perhaps four feet tall, stooped and leathery, with fragile-looking wrists, impossibly thin legs and birdlike eyes. I can’t say how old she was.  Definitely in her seventies.  But she could have been in her eighties or even older.  It was hard to tell. And I was younger then, and not so observant of these things.

Grandmother was a stocky woman in her sixties, with a broad waist and hips, an ample bosum and a tremendous laugh. Her curly black hair was shot through with silver, and she spoke good English.  Little Aunty had no English at all.

I made a pot of strong tea, and at the Stockman’s request brought a tin of condensed milk and a plate of cake with me, and I met the women outside the dining room, where they had gathered some plastic chairs under a tree. It was just the three of us, sitting in the deep shade on a stinking hot day.

“Why are you here?” I asked.  “Did Auntie really send you?”

They both smiled and ignored me.

We ate some cake, and drank the tea, made thick and sweet with the condensed milk. Little Auntie smacked her lips together in appreciation, oblivious to the flies that crawled all over us. She hooked one finger and scooped a fly out of her tea and kept on drinking.

Finally Grandmother looked at me, all business. “Show me dem hands,” she said.

I held them out to her, and while Grandmother took my hands by the wrists Little Auntie scooped up some red dirt in her own hands and rubbed it vigorously into mine.

Image by Holger Leue

Image by Holger Leue

Then Little Auntie took my hands and held them loosely in her tiny ones.  She poured over them, pressing her thumb into the palm of my hand and the fleshy mound below my thumb. She turned them this way and that, tracing the lines with a grubby thumbnail. While she did this she made funny little clicking sounds with her tongue. The longer she held my hands the warmer they became.

“You feel dat?” Grandmother asked, coolly observing my every move.

“Yes,” I said. “My hands are hot.” But they weren’t simply hot, they were burning and tingling and it felt like ants were crawling all over them.

Grandmother just nodded. Then she made a small grass fire and placed some green gum leaves in it to make smoke.  The two old women passed my hands back and forth in the fragrant smoke. Little Auntie would sniff my hands and feel them, and then back they would go into the smoke. Finally she was satisfied.

Little Auntie’s eyes were glistening and happy with a kind of pure child-like joy. She said something that sounded like a curdled sigh. Grandmother laughed and then turned to me, smiling.

“You know dat ting in dem hands of yours?” Grandmother said. “It come from your grandmother, from your grandfather, from your people way way back. All dem ancestors. It in you now, dat power. In you forever. No give him back. Okay?”

I don’t know why, but my eyes filled up with tears. I felt the connection deep in my heart, and it made me feel so much less alone.

Behind us the station workers began to file in to the dining room for lunch. I flinched under their gaze, exposed and vulnerable. I didn’t want them to see what we had been doing. Even though it probably didn’t look like anything at all. But it was SOMETHING to me – something significant, something so unexpected and raw and wild and strong.

I longed to soar up into the sky. I craved to dive into the deepest ocean. But I sat on my chair in the shade, and asked if I could get these ladies some lunch or some more tea.

“No,” said Grandmother. “We walk a lil bit now. You come too.”

So I fetched my hat and my sunglasses and we went down to the river. Little Auntie found me a craggy raw agate, rimmed with bright carnelian, and pressed it into my hands, placing it between my palms and then squeezing my hands tight against the stone.

“Dat fella good for you. Good for dat magic,” said Grandmother.

It’s the first crystal I ever felt the energy of – and it remains one of my most treasured possessions.

That was the day my hands were activated. And Grandmother was right. I can’t turn the power off. I can’t give it back. And I don’t want to anymore, anyway…

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PS: If you’d like to work with activating your own hand chakras try these posts:

Activating your hand chakras

Sensing energy in objects

Sensing energy in places

Sensing energy in people

Sensing energy in food

 

 

Out in the wilderness…

Image from www.walls.com

Image from www.walls.com

“Funny how “question” contains the word “quest” inside it, as though any small question asked is a journey through briars.” 
~ Catherynne M. Valente, Under in the Mere

“Say it, reader. Say the word ‘quest’ out loud. It is an extraordinary word, isn’t it? So small and yet so full of wonder, so full of hope.” 
~ Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux

My Kimberley story, continued…

I would like to say that I was happy, out there in the wild vast spaces of the Kimberley.

But that would not be true.

Life settled into a routine of sorts.  Waking early, I would go for a walk before the heat of the day, dog following at my heels. Breakfast and then over to the office and a mountain of paperwork and management tasks. Sometimes I ventured to other parts of the property, sometimes I met the planes or helicopters as they came in to the station, sometimes I travelled into town. But no matter where I was, I was lonely.

Worse than lonely.

Miserably yearning for something, although I couldn’t tell you what.

Each night I sat by the campfire and waited for the owls, or if the moon was bright I went for a walk to count shooting stars. Sometimes I felt an owl follow me as I walked.

One evening after dinner, as I was walking back to the campfire, the aboriginal stockman  fell in beside me.  He always carried a big torch when he went anywhere at night-time, even if it was between the lit buildings.

“You. Why you go walkin’ off in da night-time?”

“I like to see the stars,” I said.  “And I talk to the owl that follows me.”

He stopped suddenly and shook his head, making a disapproving clucking noise with his tongue. “Don’t you goin’ walkabout in da night-time no more. No good, all alone. No good in dat darkness.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Dat owl talk back to you?” he asked seriously.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“Hmmmph,” he said, and walked off crankily.

The next morning there was a big old torch and a spare battery outside my door.  I knew it was for me.

After that, the stockman became a little more friendly.  One night as we were leaving the fire, he asked me how many owls I saw. I told him five. He rubbed his hand across his jaw as though he was thinking.  “Okay,” he said, and then he just walked off.

road-trip-1

Two days later he came to my office, and stood awkwardly at the door, balancing on first one skinny leg and then the other until I looked up from my work. “My brudda,” he said. “He gonna come visit tomorrow. You be here?”

I couldn’t understand how he would know that, unless he’d made a prior arrangement with his brother.  The stockman never used the payphone, and he never got any mail.

“Are you sure?” I said stupidly.

“Mm humph,” he grunted, and then he tapped his long bony finger against his temple. “My brudda talk to me in here.  He bring you tree (he held up three fingers) fine mudcrab. He gonna bring Auntie. You better be here.”

I didn’t understand, so I just smiled.

That night I didn’t go out to the campfire.  I went for a short walk, and then retired early to bed. All night my dreams were crazy, but one in particular stood out. An old, fat aboriginal lady with a jolly face and wearing a faded pink dress, took me flying through the night sky.  She held my hand and we effortlessly glided above the sleeping landscape.  I could hear the thoughts and the dreams of the people and the animals below.  The air around us was silvery and slippery somehow. And I don’t remember how I came home, but I woke up in my bed the next morning almost convinced it had been real.

That afternoon a rusty old truck rattled up though the riverbed and into the station. The aboriginal stockman stood in the middle of the road, just outside my office, waiting for them.

It was his brother, who had driven down from Wyndham to visit him.  I was introduced to the brother, and then an old lady climbed down from the cab of the truck.  She was barefoot, wearing a faded pink dress, and she was plump and jolly.

“Hey girlie,” she said to me in a raspy, strong voice. “I know you.”

I felt weak, like my legs would go from under me.  It was the lady from my flying dream.

She came over and put her warm hand on my face, looking deep into my eyes.  “I know you,” she said again.

“Hmmph,” said the stockman. “I told you.  She dat ting.”

I felt like I was hollow, like I was being sucked into another time and space. I could hardly breathe. It was shocking, although I can’t tell you why. This bare-footed, jolly old woman had such authority.

“I need a cuppa tea,” she told me.  “And my boy, he bring you three fine mud crab. In that esky,” she gestured to the stockman. “Betta cook him up while dem fellas still fresh.”

She patted my arm kindly. “Tea,” she repeated. “We need us some tea.”

Dream Quest by Robert Donaghy

Dream Quest by Robert Donaghey