Mystic Dream


A visit from the ghost of Selene leaves Siri desiring to know more. Why now?

The past that she has tried to scape now screams at her in dreams and visions. Unfinished business left behind, long ago, call for immediate attention.
A series of mystical events will set Siri and her long lost friends Tamara, Luna and Dama in a journey that unites light and darkness, the seen with the unseen. The divinity in their souls now reveals the secrets they tried to hide when they were children. Through them an eternal dream must be fulfilled. In their meaningless lives as adults detached, they find the strength to complete their divine mission.

This time Selene calls and there is no where to run. Ordinary women will accomplish the extraordinary lead by a Magical Soul as they take the last chance to fulfil their destiny.
The memories of a childhood full of magic, love, joy and tragedy reunites the protagonists of our story in their journey toward the unknown for the benefit of human kind.

  Mystic Dream   (Preview)




I woke up from a dream in which there was only  Selene and darkness.

Her hair felt like silk caressing my skin, her red cheeks, warm, illuminating, filling the emptiness within.  Her  green eyes glowing intensely,  resembling bright emerald stars in the night. She blended in the shallowness of my dwelling place,  where I have lived  suspended in time for almost 10 years, existing; my chaotic flat  is the true representation of my mind.  It  perpetuates an intense and tormenting scent of jasmine blossom.

Once it was my favourite fragrance,  now it is impregnated on the walls,  impersonating the essence of my living,  from the a day I smashed  the perfume bottle  against the mirror. Irritation, impatience, infuriation and rage often  my true and  most faithful companions, and my comfortable, indulgent solitude . The  vexation deep in the heart and the longing, always the longing.  It’s hard to explain, the longing for someone or something that you miss, but  was never there.

Sometimes I picture myself running away from my head, determinedly fleeing from my thoughts. The reality is that there are memories one cannot scape,  nor forget, because the story I’m about to tell, I tell it not because I want to tell , but because I must, the story imprisoned, unjustly within our heads and hearts screams ever so loudly, now more than ever to be let out…


I heard her whispering my name.

Her laughter echoed in the dark; she woke me up.

Her breath caressed my senses,  her face was directly above me, her eyes staring into my soul, piercing.

The deliciously disturbing  and unexpected visit from my best friend made it impossible to go back to sleep, it was 4 o’clock in the morning,

Selene come back… I begged in the mists of a million thoughts and questions all mixed with fear, excitement and anxiety.

It was her ghost! was it not?  Selene is dead, or at least, she is not fully alive, has she just died? I will call her mother tomorrow to find out… I will call her mother tomorrow…

I repeated in my head, knowing there was not way that affirmation was going to get acted upon, the thought of it made me shiver..

Whenever I am under stress or in a bewildering and hostile situation, I feel instinctively drawn to water.  I also feel instinctively drawn to water when I’m happy and excited,  when I feel lonely or depressed, afraid or insecure. I do feel  drawn to water in any and may situations as a matter of fact.  I strongly believe that in another life I was a fish.

I made a bubble bath infusing it with lavender and rose petals, I sat on my bathtub; letting  my mind go,  thoughtless. Normally,  the middle of the night is the time when all my senses at their highest sensory vibrations.

I desired to feel Selene’s presence once again. I breathed in the fumes that emerged with the rich vapours of natural essence  and focused my eyes on the flame of the candle, it glowed soft and golden. I always rebuke myself, I know what fire can bring, but this time I wanted to let it in.

When I close my eyes after staring at fire my inner vision projects dazzling sparks of light flashing.

A while ago I decided to deny the manifestation of anything that reminds me of the magical unknown forces, paranormal occurrences, parallel pathways,  the art of wishing and desiring, love in its truest form,  all these practices and activities which I became so deeply acquainted with, during my childhood.

I plunge into the water with my eyes close, when  I open them still submerged; Selene’s ghostly figure reappears and assumes what seems an impossible posture above me.  She fits perfectly in the bath, hovering under  the water; her nose touching mine.  She flashes a mischievous grin and then she vanishes again, like the mist in the forest at dawn. I gasp, open  my mouth oblivious to the water, yelling…

Don’t go!

My childhood screams at me. Selene’s ghost leaves me in reveries which toke the form of unwanted thoughts; memories threatening to break the strict silence that they had kept in during many years….


Selene, Tamara, Dama, Luna and I met when we were little five and six year old girls. We lived in one of the lost small villages  of the “Fortunate Islands”.

Our town is hidden behind a thick and tall forest near the coast of the Atlantic Ocean.

El Pueblo Maldito, ( The Cursed  Village),   is the name by which many know my home.

It was the first day of a summer, many years ago. In a time when the essence of life means beauty, freedom and excitement; when the soul of a child is naturally attuned with the universal flow of all. With no needs, wants or desires, other than the constant awareness and performance of joy, in a here and now basis, innocence finds perfect contentment.

I was five years old,  and I was enjoying a hot day on the beach. My body was subtly baking under the heat of the sun; I was floating face down on the sea, watching playful little red fish slip through my fingers.

I heard someone speak next to me under the water. I turned round with a start, glimpsing at the face of a girl that vanished when I tried to focus on her. She disappeared yet she kept speaking; I could hear her voice inside my head, louder and louder.

Immediately I was walking down the shore, driven by a force that overcame my will, as if hypnotised. I was led by the voice of the girl until I reached her:


She was six years old. She had long, wavy, shiny ruby ​​red hair, emerald green eyes and pronounced facial features. She was bending down, looking into the sea, speaking to the fish. She articulated the most eloquent gibberish in an indecipherable language; the sound of it shifted me outside the world for moments, maybe minutes.

The other girls arrived at the same time as me.

Tamara was five years old, her soft dark skin emphasizing beautiful Indian features, her eyes light brown like honey, sparkling with the radiance of her soul.

The girl’s astonishing glance reflected the past life of a heroine, a brave queen warrior of the forest. Centuries ago Tamara was the deity Artemis. Her arriving at the seashore came with a vision that we all shared; this vision took us back in time.

For an instant we witnessed the goddess’s victory, in one of her greatest battles against giant enemies.

“The beach turned into the thick Savanah rainforest,  trees that touched the sky. Tamara was transformed into a woman with a strong built body and straight black hair so long that it almost touched the floor. She was wearing leather shorts and vest top, black knee-high boots.  Her face was painted with black strips, as a the warrior that she was. She reached for her arrows and shot with her bow; in a split second an army of monsters surrounded us. They were tall, fat, with one eye only, in the middle of their foreheads. They threw rays of fire from their finger tips aiming to destroy Artemis  and her two warrior companions: Apollo and Hermes and us.  The three of them climbed the trees, jumping from one to another seemingly they were flying, swiftly, they released arrow after arrow, wounding the monsters, making them turn to dust and disappear.”

It  happened so fast that I was able to hold my breath until the scene turned  to sand an sea, the beach.

After Tamara, Dama arrived, she stood opposite me in the circle. The beautiful six-year-old girl was bewitching, her unusual charm adorable, I sensed from that very first moment that her beauty comes from her spirit, her unique essence, truly enchanting.

It is obvious that when we look at a rose we are looking at one of the most sublime works of creation. Yet we must see that it is not only the appearance of the rose that makes it so beautiful: it is its fragrance, its essence, it is the legend of all roses; it is what a rose makes us feel and it is what a rose means.

Similarly, it is Dama’s soul that reveals her beauty, not only her golden hair, and her eyes, which perfectly match the colour of the sky on a clear day.

In an instant, Dama became Freyja; the Scandinavian deity that she existed as in ancient times. We all witness her  flying up to reach on a gold chariot , embellished with diamonds, pulled by giant white swans, she rode in the company of seagulls.  One of her flying swans lost a feather, falling down it caressed my face before it landed by my feet.  I stood still watching the glorious princess of princesses, she was surrounded by the Valkyries, the warrior women, who trotted on horseback, flying against the blue sky, heading towards the sun.  In as little time as it takes to sigh, Freyja disappeared from the sky but she smiled through Dama’s eyes.

Luna was next to me holding, my right hand.

Luna is pure grace and absolute peace. Her smooth and luminous complexion frames delicate oriental features. Her hair shines an intense sunshine yellow, almost white when touched by light. I glanced at her; she offered us a majestic salute upon arrival.  Then I instinctively knew that she is the reincarnation of the deity, T’ai Yuan, the creator and the owner of yin and yang, she who is the master of balance in the universe.

With her sublime greeting, came to us a vision of the inside of a temple which was the size of a city, where millions of devotees worshipped the goddess that shows them the path that leads to total tranquillity, peace, and harmony.

It was the moment I glared at all of us, holding hands in a circle, when saw me. A strong force took me back to another time, in another place, deep in the sea.

I was a powerful being.  My skin glowed almost translucent; carrier of wisdom, my senses whispered mysterious secrets of the beauty  and the love of a goddess. My curly, long and abundant hair was dark blue as the darkest parts of the ocean.  My eyes were a deep and intense green, immense green, it seemed like it was possible to dive into the depth of them.  I gave strength and victory to the rulers who trusted me.  My name was Gwenhwyfar and I lived under water. My vision lasted a second but it reflected an eternity.

It could have all been a dream, but what happened in our lives, after that magic encounter, taught us that the truth and reality of love are often far from the reach of the narrow and simple human mind. Some truth can only be comprehended with a bare and open heart in hand. Certain mysteries can only be revealed to a pure soul. Until then the secrets of freedom shall remain secret.

Mystic Dream


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