Messages from Angels

As I had laryngitis at the last meeting, I did not read what I wrote from the prompts in the previous post. This is what I wrote:
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Dreams or angels. Sometimes they are one in the same. Angels come to me in my dreams giving me messages. Sometimes I recognize these angels as my dad or my brother, or even my cousin, all having passed to the other side. They come to me with messages of guidance or warning.

And some dreams are just dreams, though I know they contain messages. Dreams are a way for your subconscious to work things out during sleep time, a psychiatrist told me. So when I wake up I always analyze what I have dreamed. Sometimes the message is obvious, sometimes it's confusing. I come to my own conclusions in cases like that, which is probably what we're supposed to do.

[A psychic medium told me during a reading later that day that I have a lot of questions but my guides are not going to give me the answers. I need to look within myself for those answers.]

I had a dream recently of my brother's voice - my living brother - saying that I never call. I had responded with "It goes both ways". At first I thought nothing of the dream, but as I told the dream to others it dawned on me that perhaps there was a message there, maybe even a warning.

My eldest brother passed away suddenly at the age of 56. I hadn't seen him in 8 years. I learned afterwards that a month before he had been at an event in my area, an event I was too lazy to go to. A month later he was dead. I know if I had known he would be there I would have made the effort to go.

So now I have this dream about my other brother and can't help but wonder if it is a warning that this could happen again, though I saw him last at Christmas. A warning, or just a message that I shouldn't let my relationship with my living brother slide like it did with my late brother.

This dream occurred a few weeks ago and since translating its possible message, I still haven't called him. But I will, because one never knows when our loved ones here will be taken from us and become our angels over there.

[I texted him a few minutes ago asking him to call me.]

In the book club that I belong to, we read a story on DNA and the possible effects that it may have on your actions. A friend mentioned a possible issue with DNA. The homework was to write anything Irish story. I combined my obsession with DNA and then I wrote, I am From.

I AM FROM 

By Nancy Rorke 

I am from Ui Briuin a fifth-century Irish King of Connacht and the first O Ruarc (a Viking name that means famous king) who was the King of Breifne. I am from the four more O’Rourkes who were the Kings of Connacht and who were one of the most powerful families in Ireland. 

I am from Tiernan O’Rourke (King of Breifne, 1124—1172) who donated money for the gorgeous The Book of Kells, completed by the church. I am humbled and speechless at its beauty.  

Unfortunately, Tiernan fought ruthlessly with Dermot MacMurrough. When Dermot seized Tiernan’s wife, possibly with her consent, they became mortal enemies. Dermot fled to England and brought the Normans to Ireland. The Irish lost everything, including their language, the right to own land, and later, the right to be educated. He became the most hated man in Ireland and his descendants changed their last name.  

I am from John Rorke (b. 17[-–) and Phebe Ruddock (born 1868–1821). John’s father, Patrick Rorke, possibly dropped the O when he became a Quaker. John moved to Waterford near Dublin. He had thirteen children. Most of his family immigrated to Canada between 1820 and 1826, years before the 1845 famine. John died on the way to Canada to join his children, and was buried on Staten Island. 

I am from Richard Coates line, my third-great-uncle, who built the first pipe organ in Ontario, was a musician and an artist. He lives on the pages of the Internet. 

I am from my grandmother, Gertrude Sullivan Rorke. Her mother, Isabella, was English, but Gertrude Sullivan’s family fought against the English with my friend’s family, the McCarthys. 

I am from the still waters of sorrow, harboured regrets, and an indescribable longing to return home to Ireland. 

I am from the Vikings who live in my DNA and possess me, and who enabled me to protect myself or go to the death if need be.  

I am from the dark secrets and the anguish that lives in my soul from the days of long ago. 

I am from eons of Irish and Viking storytellers who embellish the truth to make up the best story possible. I am from those who never let anything go and hold onto to every wrong doing, and try to even the score. I am Irish to the core of my being.  

Posted on behalf of Nancy Rorke