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Four-Owls and a Tree: An Ancient-Future Dream

Photo by Jean van der Meulen on

A dream that marks the upcoming end… and beginning again. November 16, 2020.

I was on an exploratory mission to a deserted land. A small group of us had a base camp on the periphery of an abandoned village. It was quite old and built entirely of stone. Something happened here long ago that caused people to die or leave willingly.

Upon entering the town, we immediately split up to explore our assigned sections. I noted the spectrum of gray here, as I had in a previous dream. It felt like the blood of this once-thriving community had been drained into the dust, but not before a certain kind of chaos hit the cobbled streets. Most of the houses were in rubble. Nature had tossed her chess pieces in the form of large boulders throughout the town. Other massive stones appeared to have thrust themselves up from the earth as if to take an extended peek into the strange world above. Overall, it seemed the Mother had decided to change things up one day. And then? Nothing was ever the same.

I turned my attention to a massive tree, standing alone, twisted around itself in a gnarled but elegant spiral form. She was glowing with a regal presence and steadfast purpose to bridge heaven and earth again. I heard her call out to me inside every cell of my body. She invited me to approach her. I responded without hesitation. I knew this was a sacred meeting as my hands traced the many dimensions of her bark. She was like an ancient map that told many tales and answered every question. But only the deepest of questions, about what is at the heart of everything. I marveled at the contrast of her reddish-brown color that set her apart from the grey of the world she found herself in. The next thing I knew, I was climbing her trunk and branches, higher and higher. I felt her encouragement with every reach.


I looked down and was quite shocked at the heights I had climbed. I froze in fear and clung to her for safety. The distance to the granite village below was too much to take in. I then felt a calm come over me. Mother Tree’s presence settled my anxiety. I knew I would be okay.

I was then back with my team in the village. We entered into what appeared to be a hotel-restaurant-pub space. All of it made of stone, right down to the bar, tables, and seating. There were still so many questions, but it was late. We needed to get back to our base camp on the periphery of the town. Once there, we discussed our plans for the next day.

This time when we reentered the town, we went straight to the community pub-hotel. Yesterday’s decrepit and abandoned hub of the village was now abuzz and filled to the rafters with townsfolk. As I walked into the main room, I noticed many of them glancing at me expectantly. It seemed everyone was in on the secret but me.

In the next moment, I simultaneously understood and acted. Being, knowing, and doing were the same. I confidently stepped into the center of the room, clapped my hands, and shouted in a booming voice beyond my current ability, “Okay, everyone. Let’s quiet down. I have something to share.”

As these words came out of my mouth, my mind still had no idea what the announcement was going to be. I then understood that the thinking-analytical part of me was no longer in charge. I observed this like a movie inside me, watching my current harmonic consciousness in contrast to the memory of a fragmented self from another time. The folks all settled down quickly and listened very intently. Even I was anticipating the announcement. The words then came out of my mouth,

“I want you all to know that I own this place now, and we will be opening again very soon…” There was more. Something about food and drink for everyone. Loud cheers filled the air as the joy bounced and echoed all around the rocky tavern. My heart burst with a sense of cosmic celebration as I watched the canvas transform from the dreary pixels of gray to the vivid, original colors of the people and the land.

What happened next was an all-too familiar pattern. It had happened earlier with Mother Tree. Fear of heights. But this time fear arrived in the form of uncertainty and unworthiness. Had I misspoken? Had I said something untrue? The heavy shadowing of doubt gripped me to the core. I fell from the highest joy and fulfillment to questioning everything. I must not lead people astray. On whose authority did I speak? As far as I knew, I had not purchased or received ownership of the building. And from where would the food and drink come? Who or what was speaking this joyful news? How could it be trusted?

We were then back at base camp. I had a paper bag with dusty bits of things I’d gathered and carried away from the building. It had been my first step to begin clearing and transforming the place. I had even captured what I thought to be three gray mice. I don’t recall gathering them in the dream, but I had the memory of my intent to set them free at camp. I had talked with them nonstop in transit. However, after a few unfortunate bumps, drops, and scrapes in our travels, I knew before opening the bag. There was a real possibility they may be wounded or dead.

When I opened the bag, one mouse crawled out. Much to my astonishment, it expanded and transformed before my very eyes – from tiny field mouse to the most beautiful baby owl I’d ever seen. Its radiance, colors, and design seemed impossible for this world. I recall that it had the general template of a barn owl, but with many more dimensions of grace. The little being turned to me and connected directly with my eyes. We “spoke” without words: things that filled in the missing pieces of eternity.

As soon as I wondered how the other mice in the bag had fared, two more emerged and expanded into distinctly different kinds of baby owls – each with their own unique and ornate design. And with great surprise, a fourth mouse emerged from the bag. As I watched the last one change into yet another baby owl, I was amazed that they could push the boundaries of beauty yet another time. They encircled me in the four corners of their post. We communed. Things were finally making sense like they never could in the time before. In our ancient-future friendship, we were here and one. All the fear and doubt I had previously felt was gone. How could it be otherwise? It is the end of time. It is the beginning of the new sun.

Eileen is an author, mystic, songstress, and is actively listening, unpacking, and integrating the Divine codes within. After many numinous experiences, she receives guiding messages for our evolution in consciousness and is here to help others remember the inner cosmic highway within. She has been an invited speaker and facilitator on the topics of the Divine Feminine, evolving consciousness, and the deeper meaning of extraterrestrial, or inter-dimensional contact.

Eileen’s website: Further information about Eileen’s story here, info about private sessions and mentoring.

Eileen’s book on Amazon —
Koyopa Contact Within: The Plumed Serpent Rises
Koyopa: (n) lightning [Momos]; inner soul (receives supernatural messages)
from the Language of Mayan K’iche’. It is the Mayan term for Kundalini.


Eileen Meyer Music on iTunes or CDBaby or Reverbnation
Translating Infinity YouTube Channel (interviews, presentations, and messages from the Field)
More messages here: Soundcloud: SoundOfGoldFiles

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