Pulled from my body, through the ceiling, out the top of the roof, up into outer space, I found myself amongst stars, layers of translucent blankets, velvety black with night. Tiny diamonds lay scattered across the heavens, forgotten treasures from the ages. Below my feet was a chess board floating in space. I was standing on a black square; its size was fluid, changing, irrelevant. What was before me commanded my attention.

She stood suspended in the stars, hovering in front of Saturn. Icy rings of space dust orbited the planet in contrast to its swirling hues of warm, burnt colors. The shifting perspective took me a moment to understand as an enormous skirt materialized and billowed forth. Something was off about the dress’s texture. It was corrugated, like the inside of cardboard, its hemline melted into the checkered board below. My head reached no taller than where her shins would be. The dress was tailored up towards her neck. In her hands, she held forth a giant scepter. Her left hand held up the glowing end of the lightning white rod, and long, swooshing, jagged lines ran up and down its length to a needle tip. This gave the impression that something had forced its shape, leaving ripples akin to an element once water or liquified metal. The glowing orb that adorned the staff’s tip entwined in sprigs that blinded me the more I tried to look at it. 

Orbiting disproportionately, a cosmically huge necklace of the thirteen phases of Earth’s moon suspended in a circling motion. Waning, waxing, crescent, somewhere from the distance behind her body, the full moon moved towards front and center. She wore a necklace of moons. Above her shoulders, her neck gave way to what should have been her head. Instead, it furled open and splayed apart like the shape of a pinned old-world map, one on which you might find ancient texts. She had no face. Her silver stemmed neck became a flower that folded open with shadowy white pointed tips. In the center of where her head should have been, a bright blue light radiated like a beacon.

            “You are a daughter of Phoebe.” She spoke.

            I sat straight up in bed. It was midday. I was sober. Immediately, I pulled out my phone to research the name. Pheobe is a Titan from the Greek pantheon and grandmother to Hekate. She had sided with Zeus during those cultural shifts and was not cast to Tartarus, the Titan equivalent of hell. Before gifting the Sun God Apolo with the Oracle of Delphi, she was the Titaness of Prophecy, Oracular Intellect, and the Moon. I had no idea that Phoebe is the name of a moon that orbits Saturn. Unless I read it somewhere and stored it in my mind. I don’t always actively work with this ancient one. I do sometimes honor her in morning prayer. It’s also fun that my path in this life has led to being a Seer in my Grove’s rituals, which is an Oracular role.