I haven’t been sure of whether or not I wanted to post this, but the last two nights I’ve had some very strange dreams.
The first night, I was sitting in the dirt in this lush green scape – bright, tropical flowers of bright colors and those beautiful waxy green leaves – while a man braids my hair. I never got a good look at him, but I remember his bare feet. They were young and sienna colored, and we spoke as he braided my hair with grasses and ribbon.
He told me – or at least alluded – that he was a God of Agriculture/Fertility. He was very pleasant and laughing, but I seemed disinterested. I just kept playing in the dirt, drawing with my finger or rolling the loose stones. We spoke about lots of things, and he was very kind and engrossing and put me in a place of contemplation. As I said, however, I never got a clear glimpse of his face – but I knew he wore his hair in a very strange and intricate fashion.
I woke up, not ever sure of who he was. With a little research, I was still unsure. Until the next night, last night.
This dream was much different – I was no longer in the lush, green land, but the dry, desert llano. Another interesting thing to note is that this dream was not one in which I was an active participant, but a spectator (which is how most of my dreams play out).
While the land was very arid, it was beautiful. The huge, cloudless sky overhead and the flat, cracked land that spread out as far as the eye could see in every direction. There were the occasional stubby brush or cactus, but for the most part – nothing.
I was following a rider. He was atop a palomino horse, he, too, that coppery/sienna tone, and he was dressed (for the most part) in these extravagant ornaments. He had feather anklets and ornate beads, bracelets, teeth, feathers, all strung and laced around almost bare skin. He wore a loincloth of some fashion and had this extremely elaborately embroidered cloak. It was the most vibrant pink color, with a matching sombrero.
It was actually a very beautiful scene: you have the aforementioned beauty of the desert, with the blue and the light tans of the sand and soil, and the. You have this cloaked rider in jewels and bright pink atop a spotted horse, riding at a steady speed.
It wasn’t until later that I could see his “face” and immediately knew who he was: Tláloc.
Now, know that I do not work with the Aztec pantheon – nor their constituents, but before this have dreamed of the Goddess Xochiquetzal, many years ago.
But I knew it was Tláloc immediately, before he wore his “mask” – all fangs and pointed nose and those big, round eye-holes that were just black. Despite the sound, really, it isn’t that unsettling. It was a very pretty mask in this rich, almost lapis blue with red accents.
He rode across the desert to this small, dusty town wherein he was greeted with great favor. All the people – but specifically the women and children – ran up to him and joyously touched him or his horse and bowed their head in respect, but all were laughing and smiling. He rode on into the town – to what appeared to be a cantina – where, outside stood a group of people. Mostly men. They were far more solemn and reserved, and he looked at them with his masked face – which, of course, was unchanging.
Some men approached, their faces were not one of joy, but looked distrusting or angry. One man, he who looked the most menacing, yelled something: to which he was met with silence and the unchanging mask. The man put out his hand, and Tláloc drew from around his shoulder a woven bag, filled with green chiles. He opened the flap, and drew a chile (or two) from the bag and placed it in the man’s outstretched hand.
The man’s face grew smug, but as he took hold of the peppers, they turned to ash and fell through his fingers. He was irate, and immediately turned away. The other men now rushed to Tláloc (who still sat perched on the horse) and (slightly more humbly) reached out their hands – but every time he would place one of them in the hands of the men, they’d turn to ash. The response of the men was mostly one of mourning, not anger – and they just turned and walked away, solemn and sad.
Finally, all the men had taken their turn, and every time the peppers turned to ash. Just as all the men turned away to leave, an old woman (all wrinkled and leathery, dressed in black) walked up to him. On her back she wore a very large, round, woven basket – and the rest of her clothes were black. A long skirt, a sleeveless shirt and a wrap or poncho, all in black. The only thing of any color were the gold earrings/plugs in her ear and her golden teeth.
She walked proudly, but with a certain hubris and sincerity, up to the mounted Tláloc. And cupped both of her hands upward to him, looking him in the eye kindly, before respectfully turning her gaze to the earth. He drew from his bag two peppers, and placed them in her decorated fingers.
She waited a moment, eyes still fixed in the earth, as all the men watched on in curiosity. She turned her eyes back to him, looking at the stone mask, flashing a genuine smile that had this innate glow of thanks and wisdom, and drew her hands in, the peppers still pristine in their waxy, green beauty. She lifted her poncho or shawl and placed them in an apron-like pouch beneath. She then hefted up her giant basket and hunched forward, shuffling away.
The men were all shocked, some were angry, some disappointed, some even shooting a hateful glance in the woman’s direction. But Tláloc cut their gaze by rising between them and the woman, cutting his horse toward them protectively. They looked on him, obviously having grasped the message – and then road off back into the desert at breakneck speed.
And that’s when I woke up.
Pairing the previous dream with this one, I can assume that the first God was most probably Xochipilli – but the question remains: What do these mean and why am I being shown these things?
I would love input from anyone with any speculation! I know it’s odd for the God of Rain, Water and Prosperity to appear in the middle of a desert – but I’m inclined to believe that’s part of the message. What’s stranger yet is that he would appear in an obvious, Colonial or Post-Colonial fashion – rather than in the strictly traditional garb, making me wonder if this is a folk-figure or adaption of the older, traditional Tláloc.
Any thoughts?
The Qedavian Apocrypha 
