At 6:50 A.M., I awoke with this dream of initiation:

It is night. A woman invited me to join eleven others in a great hall illumined by beeswax candles, some hanging from the ceiling, some from sconces on the walls. Twelve young girls wear wreathes of baby breath upon shoulder-length hair that complement their long gowns; they sit in a circle upon gilded chairs. More than willing to embrace the sacred rituals, this night marks a turning point in their young lives. I’m honored to be among them.  

Again, the dream story occurs at night, a period of darkness and end-time learning for my psychic growth; its components reference hidden achievements as well as hidden or unacknowledged failures—The Dreamer always speaks the truth and involves Himself in my nightly course correction.

A woman, comely in features, yet, unknown from reality, suggests the Divine Feminine who included me among eleven others, totaling twelve of us. The twelve young girls—again repeats the number twelve, the weighted number found through the Sacred Scriptures of Jews, Christians, and Muslims; the spiritualties of other religions; astronomy and other sciences and social orders. Not surprising the frequency of the number twelve in our planetary system, it symbolizes perfection, authority, completion.

The white gowns of the initiates and their wreathes of baby breath upon shoulder-length hair, suggest virginal integrity, ripeness in innocence. I, too, had sat in one of those gilded chairs and remembered the hushed excitement while waiting.

But this is another initiation, with still more experience to bring to the ritual. All is gift.