Obelisks, Monuments, and Mausoleums, Oh My…

I make no secret of the fact, that I adore graveyards, burial grounds and cemeteries. I can stroll around them alone, for hours at a time. Last night I had a dream. I don’t talk about what goes on at night on my blog much, as it’s incredibly personal to me. But last night was an extremely vivid dream, and I found myself back in one of my favourite cemeteries – The Glasgow Necropolis. I was introduced to the Necropolis many years ago by someone who knew of my love for  the Cities of the Dead. In the years to follow I would visit regularly, usually after wrapping up at my part-time job in town, and walking up the hill to spend an hour or so amongst the dead.

My company were the Roe Deer, the numerous finches and tits, the occasional Kestrel, the odd Robin (which seem to follow me everywhere since my uncle died), the creeping Ivy everywhere I turned, and depending on the time of year, butterflies. Every now and then I would get a glimpse of the common Pipistrelle bats, as they set about on their patrol of the tree canopy, on warm evenings at dusk. I would pause here and there to salute a lone Magpie.

(c)Colin MearnsI can remember the diversity of what grew up around those gravestones.  The hawthorn, the elder, the mugwort, the ash, the broom, the heather, the elm, the willow, the garlic mustard. Obelisks and monuments raising out of thickets, grasses and tree canopies, surrounded by the creeping cinquefoil, numerous berry bushes, the rowan, the black nightshade, the red and white clover. Tombs carved into the face of the hill, laburnum trees with their racemes of delicate, yellow flowers swinging in the breeze. I’ve collected graveyard dirt from there. Under a glorious Sycamore was one of my favourite places to sit and read.

Many, many millions of moons ago, a Dolerite sill was formed by volcanic activity, and was later worn down by glacial action; This ‘hump’ is where the Necropolis now stands, high above the city of Glasgow…

So this is where I found myself…  It was just after dusk, a warm, still evening. The moon, a tiny silver sliver, suspended in the sky. A bat swoops past, narrowly missing my head, as I walk the last few yards of the Bridge of Sighs, and the huge, ornate gates swing open. A broken pot lay on it’s side, in which white flowers floated in a pool of dark red. Was that wine? Blood? Or was it just darkened water?

I walk on through the gates, and notice that there are torches burning.  I follow these torches, which blaze along the path leading further up the hill, deeper into the city of the dead, and closer to that glittering crescent. A quick movement catches my eye and I turn to look. Fireflies. Fireflies flitter around something that has been set on a stone near the edge of the path – As I draw closer, I see it is a bouquet of flowers.  Mostly a bouquet of Broom, with a few poppies, a branch of goat willow with female catkins, a branch oak leaves, and wild garlic (ransom) flowers. I pick it up, and carry along the path, the sweeping laburnums swaying, pendulously in the breeze. So pretty, such a sweet smell, extremely poisonous – I remember being told that only deer and hares can stomach them and remain unscathed…

The torches lead off the main path and between the graves, jutting out of the tall grasses, the obelisks raising like daggers to the sky, wrapped in their ivy cloaks. The lambent light of the corpse-candles flitter, standing their guard by the graves. So entrancing, beckoning me, lulling me, enchanting, but still I walk the path of torches, baring my newly found bouquet. Up and up the hill, past mausoleums with drumming raising from within them.

My feet fall into their slow, steady beat, and I continue winding my way through the now dark night, lit by the grave-guards, flicking here & there, and the torches burning brightly in a serpentine manner up the hill. Soon I find there is something in my way, it’s a beautifully carved alabaster hand, it almost looks real. It raises out of the ground in front of me, surrounded by foliage, and in it’s palm lays an intricate bronze key on a chain. I place the key around my neck, and do not feel right just taking it, so I prick my finger on a nearby Rose bush and leave a few drops of my blood in the middle of it’s palm. And still I carry on up the hill, winding and winding, up and up. I cannot remember the hill ever being this high… And soon I come to the top…

The mausoleum stands alone, and grand – I cannot remember this being here either – two torches stand brilliant and bright on either side of the stairs, the door is closed, but I know the key around my neck will open the door. I knock on the door three times and let myself in. At that second all the torches are extinguished by a huge gust of wind. Black. Black as pitch. But I have not come all this way to turn around and stumble down the hill in the dark, so I take a step into the blackness, and I fall…

I fall, and fall and fall and fall… Clutching the flowers to my chest, as I know it’s important tat I keep them on me. And soon I land, with what should be bone shattered impact onto a cold, stone floor. My fall broken somehow. I can smell fragrant wood burning, and the room is filled with a heady perfume, a scent I cannot quite put my finger on. I stand straightening myself. And a torch flickers on, a bronze mounting pole, wrapped with coiling serpents, holding it to the wall… I leave the flowers on a small stone stand and a door creaks open behind me, soft footfalls… I turn… I catch a glimpse of a white dress… A glint of something metalic… And I wake up!

I wake bloody up! Right at that moment! What the…? Frustrating… I would love to share more with you all, to maybe make a little sense of it, but I cannot… I’ll be keeping an even closer record of my dreams… I’m officially intrigued…


4 responses to “Obelisks, Monuments, and Mausoleums, Oh My…

  1. What an incredible journey… now I’M officially intrigued lol

    Love, Angel

    • I’m keeping a sharp eye on my dreams, and started a few more devotional acts throughout the month for a certain someone… I’m excited, but also intimidated a little…

  2. What a glorious dream you had Sarah!

  3. Cheers lovely lady! ❤ It was pretty vivid…

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