A Sacred Story

A Sacred Story by Mona Rain

He appeared vividly in my dream, whispering from behind me. Sister …Sister, where are you going?

He was polite, inquisitive …and yet insistent. He hurried to catch up to me as I pursued my journey uphill along a lush path. I turned. I knew his voice, this man. I had met don Oscar Miro-Quesada Solevo many times in the waking reality of my life. I had even prayed with him in shamanic community circles and a large shamanic intensive, where I was ceremoniously initiated into the tradition. Years later, I became a sanctioned teacher of shamanism.

As I turned to see his familiar face in my dream, my anxiety grew. In the distance behind him, I saw his wife engaging deeply with a large group around an enormous, blazing fire circle as flames leapt into the air. Ah, shamanic community, my thoughts reminded me, treasuring the “belonging” I was witnessing.

Sister, where are you going? he queried again.

Despite my apprehension, I responded with, “I am walking this way. I need to walk this way now,” and pointed to Peru, Bolivia, and the mountains and sacred sites there.

He peered into the path that stretched out before me and without speaking, he faded back to the community and fire circle as my dream ended. When I awoke, my higher self knew I was being called by the lineages of Peruvian masters—the altomisayoks. My rational mind reminded me of so many doubts and feelings of unworthiness, and I let the dream calling recede from my conscious awareness.

don Oscar Miro-Quesada Solevo is an altomisayoq. But why was he coming directly to me in a dream? A man of great status in the shamanic world, a highly respected maestro and kamaska curandero of finely honed skills. I deeply admired his wisdom, as did a large international community of shamanic followers. I was yet to fully understand the dream calling of the ancestral lineage and how they work through the dimensions of reality that we exist in as multidimensional beings and souls. Over the next four years, I would come to understand.

In my waking reality, I fervently continued my explorations of Peru and Bolivia, traveling two to five times a year from Florida to the magical mystery of the lands I loved. They pulled me like a magnet. I walked the land, I communed and prayed with the apus, the mountain spirits, and I set my intentions with my ofrendas, my ritual offerings. I explored the plantas maestras— sacred plant medicines—as I paid reverence

to all. I embraced every moment, feeling enormously blessed with Pachamama under my feet and in my heart. I was doing exactly what I had promised don Oscar I would do. Yet within a year’s time, don Oscar appeared in another dream. Sister, where are you walking? Sister, we are over here! And he flung his arm out and waved his entire body in the direction of the blazing fire, showing me the vast community circle again, this time with an insistence in his voice, much louder and much closer.

“Yes, don Oscar, I see you. I am walking this way.” Sister, can I walk with you? he persisted, as he simultaneously appeared on the path by my side. I was shocked and abruptly turned to face him.

“Me? don Oscar, you want to walk with me?” I was feeling imperfect, not worthy.

Yes! Please Sister, I want to see where you are walking!

Oh my gosh, I thought in dismay. Me? I was so honored that he would be interested in my journey. I acquiesced.

“Yes, I will show you.” Astutely, his skilled shamanic sight peered between the veils of reality and into my life as we strolled together for a bit.

Ah Sister, I see now, he said softly, slightly bowing and honoring my soul’s journey. And when you are ready … we are waiting for you over here. Again, he pointed to the community, fire, and his wife.

I was whisked to the blazing fire. I felt the intensity of it on my skin! My face was still burning from the heat when I awoke. That dream visitation, that “shamanic calling,” left me transfixed. I now understood the ancestors of Peru were speaking to me about much more of my soul’s work.

Sister, when you are ready, we are over here. Those were don Oscar’s words in my dream. The “calling” foretold my destiny within the Pachakuti Mesa Tradition, the shamanic community my soul longed for, the place of my service for the next seven generations upon Pachamama.

Story excerpt from SHAMANISM: Personal Quests of Communion with Nature and Creation

Mona Rain is a sanctioned teacher of the Pachakuti Mesa Tradition, earth steward and ceremonialist for Gaia-Pachamama. Humbly and with reverence for all, she shares her healing, teachings, and Peru vision quests. chacarunahealing.com.