The Dream
Posted: Monday, May 03, 2010
by Robert Greyeagle
I saw myself on a high plateau looking down on a plain. I was dressed like the ancient Cherokee of the early 1700's. The Pinto I sat on was sturdy and strong. Except for buckskin trousers and a deer skin vest I was bare above the waist. A quiver was strapped to my back and a bow crossed my chest. On my side was a knife with an antler handle. I carried a spear.
But just as the two combatants reached each other, the charging buffalo disappeared into thin air. The plains Indian rode right through where the buffalo had been. Sitting there on my high place, I wondered where the buffalo had gone?
A cloudy mist erased that scene. An eagle flew close and said " Now see where the buffalo went. " I looked below and saw hundreds of buffalo stretched as far as the eye could see.
They all had been skinned and their carcasses lay rotting in the sun. My heart was sad because the buffalo was no longer. I wondered how the plains Indians could survive without the buffalo?
The cloudy mist erased that scene. And I saw hundreds of white buffalo hunters with .50 caliber Sharps rifles sitting down - killing the buffalo for their skins. The air was filled with a putrid smell that made me gag. They took no meat, just the skins. My heart was heavy for the buffalo. My heart cried for the plains Indians who killed only what they needed for food and shelter. The buffalo hunters killed for money.
The mist erased that scene and the majestic eagle said " Come! Let me show you the white man's greatest sin. The greed for land and gold. " Down below I saw tribe after tribe, nation after nation, driven from their homelands. I saw men, women and children killed for gold and land. I saw the thousands of peoples who were here many centuries before the white man ever set foot on this soil - was tricked, driven, and herded, onto reservations where they became a downtrodden entity without pride, without hope. I cried, but no tears fell.
The cloudy mist erased that scene and I saw my own people, the Cherokee, driven from their mountain homes and lands in what is now called North Carolina. Tennessee and bordering states. In the middle of winter they were herded like cattle to a far off place called Oklahoma Territory. Thousands died along the way. But some escaped, hid in mountain caves, and became what today is called the Easter Band of the Cherokee Nation. That forced march is called 'The Trail Where They Cried' or 'The Trail Of Tears.' Those Cherokees that reached Oklahoma Territory became the Western Band of the Cherokee Nation.
The mist erased that scene and I saw a Great White Throne where God, the Great Holy Spirit, will judge the living and the dead in a time to come. Every fiber of my being wanted to feel hatred, resentment, and revenge, toward all those who in times past and present, who have harmed my people. But I could not. I felt only sorrow and pity. I raised my arms and asked the Great Holy Spirit to forgive those who harmed my people because they were ignorant of the consequences of their actions. I prayed for their souls.
When I awoke, I went to my computer to put my dream to words and I saw my profile picture. Now I know why I am on my Pinto with arms raised. I am praying for those who have harmed my people. I want no revenge, only justice - Greyeagle!
+V
This Article has been viewed 579 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
No comments yet.We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.