…Angel Whispers ~ And I Awoke

Courtesy Olivia MacDonald

At the time, I was writing a series of poetry called “Poetess and Prophetess”. It was autobiographical, a daily report of my emotional journey with someone for whom I cared a great deal.  It’s not that I considered myself a prophetess, really. But my name is Miriam, the same as that of the sister of the Biblical Moses who was, in her own right, a poet and prophetess. I had been called this by my friends. I had been called worse. I liked it.

One morning, I awoke from a dream with only the remnants of an image and a word that was whispered into my ear.  In this dream, I was holding my friend’s open hand in mine, studying his palm. Our heads were bowed close together. It was a gentle moment ~ one hand in another. Then I heard a whisper  close into my ear which came from outside the dream, it seemed. And I awoke.  I was left with only one haunting moment and a deep sadness. And a word: morissimo.

I held his hand in a foreign land but woke and watched it go

A whispered word I don’t understand: morissimo.

But what was this word? Who spoke it? Who slipped up along side my dream and whispered me awake? It seemed like an Angel, but I don’t believe in those.  Silly prophetess!

I carried the word with me all day. I heard it over and over again, whispered in my mind. It seemed strangely beautiful yet sad. But it was in a language I had never heard before and I had little hope of finding out its meaning. But ~ yes of course ~ the internet has all our answers!

Morissimo ~ First-person plural imperfect subjunctive of morire from the Latin “mori” ~ death.

We are dyeing.

It is true that I was left a little unsettled by this. I was not pleased that my dreams would come in a foreign language ~ especially a language I did not know delivering messages I did want to hear from Angels I did not believe in.

The next night, I dreamed again. I was gathered with others around the face of a steep, tall mountain. In the side of the mountain hung a thick rope ~ as plain as any rope could be. The kind one might tie a tire to in order to make a swing. I felt very odd, as though I had been taken out of the dream I was supposed to be dreaming and dropped into this one. I seemed to be the only one puzzled by what was happening here. I asked someone why we were here, waiting at this mountain. “The angels are going to sing”, she said. And lo, the angels at the top hummed into this rope and it began to glow. It shone so brightly, it was as if it were on fire ~ except the fire was white. It was a stream of magnificent mercury.

Amazingly I thought, “this is no big deal” as if I were disappointed I had not witnessed  something more spectacular than Angels lighting up a mountain rope with their voices!

I decided to listen closer, so pressed my ear against the rope and then … the whisper:  Altissimo. And I awoke.

Poetess and Prophetess, your dreams are all unraveled

You hear words, but not your own in lands you’ve never traveled.

This time, I awoke with the dream in tact and the word, again, stayed with me all day. I tumbled it over in my mind and eventually, courageously, investigated its meaning.

Altissimo: the uppermost register on woodwind instruments. Italian for “very high”.

That it was Italian was only a slight surprise this time, but it made me tingle. Yet, what a disappointment! I was looking for a message about this dyeing relationship and all I got was some musical term which meant nothing to me at all. (Only now as I write this do I chuckle, realizing, of course, the voice is an instrument, and certainly one played by breath ~ or wind. But to the story that unfolded at the time.)

Yes, I was disappointed. But I did dream some poetry about my life beginning as a C chord and moving into D minors and other diminished sadnesses. Poetry I have forgotten and lost.

Unsatisfied with having angels sing for me only to talk about music, I decided to look again for a meaning behind altissimo. I found something about harmonics vibrating at a higher octave. Bah! Still music. Still nothing . Still no meaning.  Then, as I watched the eclectic river of messages that float by in the stream that is Twitter, I read “Thank you so much for making me vibrate at a higher octave”.

I kid you not.

…making me vibrate at a higher octave….

There is nothing like serendipity to make one search for something deeper. So I continued with altissimo. I discovered it is also a Latin word which means highest. And  found a sweeping phrase written by the Roman Philosopher  Marcus Cicero (106- 43 BC) which was written in Latin ~ the language of angels. It said, roughly translated, that when the “angelus” speak they vibrate at highest frequencies.  He also said this: onorate altissimo  poeta

Honor highest the poet

Of course, it was not completely lost on me at the time that I was seeking a meaning in a message rather than being satisfied that I had been delivered one at all. I mean, I was dreaming in unknown languages, being visited by angels, who reminded me of  their presence through tiny mysteries throughout my waking hours. In fact, my waking hours were now tripping over themselves in small moments of coincidences left over from my dream hours. And I’m not sure that when Angels come, they travel alone. Some of the dreams became horrifying.

Poetess and Prophetess, you don’t listen to your dreams

When angry spirits come to call it’s as dangerous as it seems!

Dreams have their own set of logic and physics which, as it turns out, is that anything is possible and nothing is illogical. It rarely occurs to a dreamer to say “Whoa! Look at the floating starfish tree! That doesn’t make any sense.” Or “Hey, what are we all doing here at this mountain?”  It is with precisely this logic that I decided perhaps my visitors were Angels. I sensed a “Hey. What are you doing here? “ kind of feeling.

Poetess and Prophetess, the Angel begs you heed

The warning that she whispered when you thought that you were freed

But … I wanted it to stop.

This prophetess was not ready to be connected, for to be connected to something higher, we must also be connected to something deeper: that buried part of us that crawls beneath our skin always threatening to seep out through our pores and show the world ~ and ourselves ~ our pain. No. I was not ready for such unearthing ~ as above so below. The thought of slipping into the bottomless pool that is my soul was a journey I would postpone, if I could.

Poetess & Prophetess, still waters are revealing

The deepness of the shallow and the maelstrom it’s concealing

So I asked the angels not to return. I did simply that. Before falling asleep, I said “Please don’t come to me anymore. You frighten me. I am not ready”

But I am ready now. In fact, I told the angel that visited me last night in my dream just that! I was busy decorating a small space in which I was to display all the my art and writing I had ever created. An angel came and said “You have to leave here now. I need this space.”

“No”, I said. “I’m not done here yet. You and I are gong to have to compromise and  share this space.”

And the Angel smiled knowingly.  And I awoke.

Poetess and Prophetess, now you know your power

You’re not the castle captive but the bird above the bower.

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Responses

  1. Isn’t it wonderful – and sometimes frightening – to have them visit. And still we have free choice to do as we please… sometimes stubbornly… and be met by their infinite patience and wisdom.
    I’m sure you’re ready 🙂

    • Thanks for reading and commenting! I am ready some days and not others- but feel protected these days 🙂

  2. Amazing, the connectedness and awareness. I do not know that I would be ready. in fact, I know I wouldn’t, I have much doubt in me…

    • You know, the dreams were intriguing. But then the coincidences all through the days started- I forget most of it now. That really bothered me because I like to have my feet on the ground and am aware that some people think this kind of awareness is not grounded in our “reality” shall we say. We shall see what unfolds 🙂 Thanks for dropping in!

  3. Evocative. I can see this story expanded into a novella-size inspirational memoir.

    • Thank you, my friend. There, is indeed, a part two (and hopefully a three) 🙂

  4. Beautiful & kinda haunting. I like the tone and structure of this, too, and a number of lines, esp. these: “It is true that I was left a little unsettled by this. I was not pleased that my dreams would come in a foreign language ~ especially a language I did not know delivering messages I did want to hear from Angels I did not believe in.”

    • Hi BadBad ~ thanks for reading and sharing this and for leaving your comment. I do appreciate that you liked the voice and structure. :-)) See you in the stream.

      • Where the angels dare to sing…

  5. I never believed in Angels either, until we found a St. Michael on the path the day before my son died. Morrissimo; Altissimio. vibrating at a higher octave–and truth shines like a rope–or, in my dream, a sword … August 22 was named “Be An Angel” day in 1993. you just never know … unless the angels have told you, but maybe miracles really DO happen! 🙂 love you.

    • I am so sorry for your loss. But am happy you shared your words here with me and rewarded that mine touched you. Thank you so much.

  6. “As it is above, so it is below…”
    Words that have “resonated” in me for years after reading several books. We all have a certain “vibe” that we give off that changes with our moods and emotions. A contagious “sensation” that is immediately felt when we are around. So do spirits and angels and other beings that “Vibrate Higher” than we can usually perceive. When we are at our “spiritual best” we vibrate higher than normal and are more “in tune” with others vibrating in higher frequencies.

    Be mindful, be strong, be virtueous…

    Vibrate Higher…

    • Thank you SO much for this and for your insight and sharing your wisdom. I shall certainly try to be mindful, strong and virtuous … try 🙂

  7. ’tis frightening to be visited by beings from other planes whilst dreaming~ such a visitationonce shut my dreams down for years~ but never was my vision so clear nor so well expressed. You have a special gift~

  8. You wrote in the comments, above, “You know, the dreams were intriguing. But then the coincidences all through the days started- I forget most of it now. That really bothered me because I like to have my feet on the ground and am aware that some people think this kind of awareness is not grounded in our “reality” shall we say.”

    …and the thing I often think is this: if the Sacred is real, if ultimately we think God does exist, if life does have meaning and purpose (and I think at base we all want to answer yes to those if’s)… then how is it not having one’s feet on the ground, to take the Sacred seriously? How is it not having one’s feet precisely and exactly on the ground, the Ground of Being, to take it seriously?

    And yet, it’s hard. It’s hard to trust. It’s hard to not belittle ourselves. It’s hard to take it seriously, especially when those around us don’t.

    Miriam, I hope in the months since you first wrote this post, you have come to find more trust. And I look forward to the collaborative work you and the angel will create, in that sacred space.

    • You just lifted my heart …and THAT is evidence of the sacred 🙂

  9. Miriam, your ability to be open to these experiences — I won’t call them dreams — is the very thing that you can trust to take you further in, the thing that tells you how to make sense of it. Dance with that.

    There are experiences that take us beyond the ordinary but they happen so infrequently that there’s this tendency to retrofit them to what we know. Many forces push us backwards, away from what seems miraculous. Yet, you can only push forward lightly, opening gently where it seems right.

    My background is not religious, so angels don’t resonate for me. But I had some experiences that threw my rationality for a loop, related to Native American teachings & shamanism. I *know* there is way more stuff out there than we tend to see day to day. I just don’t know what to call it or how to explain it.

    What I noticed from that is that there is first the direct experience of the thing, and then there is the way we explain it to ourselves. The explanation tends to reveal our personal or cultural background & beliefs — e.g., angels. Those explanations are just stories, just an edifice to help remember or communicate to others. Native Americans would talk about spirits and the spirit world, rather than angels. What’s important, and what I hope you learn to trust deeply, is your direct experience of it.

    Btw, your dream of being a whale — that’s so classically Native American shaman, to become an animal like that. In my view, you WERE that whale — or rather, in some strange way, you still ARE that whale. I don’t normally wax New Age but that’s just a beautiful thing. May you swim strong!

    – David

  10. David ~ I thank you so much for your thoughtful comment. I agree that when these things happen we seek through the references of our culture to make connections and find meaning. I think the “angels” are of all cultures- speak to us in every way, if we listen. As far as the whale dream- Oh YES- I was, indeed, a whale. I felt it wholly and purely and shall never forget the girt of the experience.

    I still beleive there are dreams that are dreams and dreams that are much more that that …and welcome them now.

  11. It must leave you with a great feeling of contentment. I envy you, enjoy your peace. Let it cradle you in your slumber and guide your waking hours.

  12. Thanks for taking the time to share this with me…I enjoyed it a great deal.

    • I am so happy you read it and enjoyed it!

  13. Woh


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