Daily Angel Oracle Card, from the Angel Dreams Oracle Card deck, by Doreen Virtue, Ph.D and Melissa Virtue: High Council
High Council: “Evolution. Information. Potential.”
“If you have nightly dreams about going to a mountaintop, city hall or a library, you are connecting with the High Council. This card shows up to help you become the best possible you. The High Council is an alliance of beings from across universes who have come here to help you who have come here to help you on your evolutionary journey on this planet. These beings of love and light are trying to get your attention. There is an important project or task that you are being asked to take on. The size of the assignment doesn’t matter – large or small, it will create a shift for the highest good of all.
The High Council is coming to you in dream time to “download” messages into your energy field for retrieval at a later date. This information is to be used when it is needed for the evolution of you as a human, and for the earth as a whole.
Additional Meanings Of This Card: You have much potential. You are being encouraged to move forward with your development in all areas of your life. Think about your spiritual perception. Does it need to shirt? You are being reminded that the Divine mantle is always about your shoulders, lending you strength and help in your daily life. All you need to do is ask.”*
I often dream of meeting with a group of people who in my dream, seem very familiar to me, yet when I wake up, I have often puzzled about who they may have been. I have been in a casual “meeting” which almost felt like an interview in front of a board, although somewhat casual, and I have also been to enormous, seemingly never ending libraries. Now I know why! This is such valuable information to me, and yet it is not a surprise, as I have recently read about just this sort of thing in various Dolores Cannon books, most recently being The Three Waves Of Volunteers To The New Earth… if you are open minded and ready for the next level, I highly recommend reading this book! However, I understand that not everyone is ready for what Dolores Cannon has to say. When you are ready, you will know and the book will call you.
Dreaming about the High Council is a sure sign that you are being called to fulfill your life’s purpose; the reason why you chose to come here to planet Earth to help in the first place. It is time to remember. You are here to heal, and you have special gifts and talents that the world desperately needs right now, you must have faith in yourself and follow your intuition and your heart. If you are not sure, but still have that “nagging feeling” that you are supposed to be doing… something important… ask for help in remembering.
Before you go to sleep at night, close your eyes and let your angels know you are ready and willing to receive messages and informational downloads to guide you to your life’s purpose. Then keep a dream journal close by and write down the thoughts you first have upon waking up. Look for patterns, symbols and signs that may mean something only to you. This is personal, and you don’t need to share with anyone who may discourage you from doing this. Do what feels right for you and keep it private. Dreams are a valuable resource for connecting to the Divine and strengthening the connection to your higher self, which will build your confidence and belief in yourself. For a little extra boost, you can program a quartz crystal to help you connect to your dreams, asking for clarity and information; then place it under your pillow. Be sure to put it out under the full moon and new moon to clear and purify the energy.
Namaste
* Angel Dreams Oracle Card deck, by Doreen Virtue, Ph.D and Melissa Virtue
Archangel Oracle 
I dreamed that I was in the center of a tall circular room. It walls almost appeared to be stone. Dark and gray was the room. The room seemed to be a few storied high. There was a ledge above me at a few stories high. The ledge allowed room for the following: in a circle…sitting in very tall chairs sat enormous beings. The number of tjem O cannot recall but they filled the space of the ledge around the entire circle. Tjey all kept saying one after another… the same thing over and over as I looked up at tjem from the floor at the center of the room…..”Do as you’re told. Do as you’re told. Do as you’re told.”
I often dream of being back in high school with my former classmates, but they’re adults, not teens. My most profound experience with the high council was on March 21, 2013. The dream began in a department store, and I was with my sister. My mother was also in the store, but always just out of sight. The store was overflowing with items of clothing from floor to ceiling. The racks were circular and shoppers were weaving through the maze in delight and fervor. Of all the colors, red was nowhere to be seen.
The scene transitioned to a cemetery at night. I was standing inside the doorway of an old house–damp, with antique articles and implements, made mostly of iron. I became distracted by the exquisite details of the old wood, and rust on the implements. People were moving quickly into a mausoleum that led into an underground stairwell, but I ignored them. Angels were directing the people into the crypt. Continuing my distraction, the angels had to call out to me, and a chorus of maybe twelve angels sang out “Tom!” The sound was gloriously beautiful and I moved quickly towards the doors of the mausoleum and cried out “That was beautiful,” as tears ran down my cheeks. As I drew near the doors, I saw a wooden fence separating the yard from field that stretched to the sunrise, and silhouetted trees were standing close to the fence. There were a few grave markers on either side of the entrance.
I made my way down the earthen stairs and soon noticed that windows had been cut into the same-facing wall. I looked out one window and could see a magnificent gathering hall perhaps a thousand feet below. People were clamoring down the stairs quickly as they could, trampling each other. I decided to dive out a window and fly down, and encouraged others to do so, but then it occurred to me that the others may not have known how to fly. I controlled my descent and soon noticed what was approaching: There were beings in large regal gowns of bright and ravishing colors; red carpets hundreds of feet long; white horses bridled in black leather; floor-based sconces burning in yellow, orange and red flame; long hallways, fifty feet wide, that led to other cavernous areas. Halfway down I could see places where I could land and aimed for them, but people kept moving to fill the spaces and I had to readjust several times. I thought to rocket down and make a superhero landing, but then thought that someone might move at the same time, and I would crush the person underfoot.
I landed in a clearing and moved forward through the throng of other spirits. The rabble had been clamoring to get close to dignitaries who were giving impromptu speeches. I made my way further and there was a ninety-degree turn into an amphitheater. I was house-left upon arrival, and there were stone-cut stadium levels, with wooden seats atop them. Some of the seats were burnished wood, and some were padded and cushioned with red crushed velvet. Most of the seats were empty. The stage was separated by a moat which descended into an abyss. The back wall had three openings–two were for clockwork creatures to pop out of, and the larger center hole was concealing a huge black onyx or obsidian clockwork spider, which descended on a silk strand an inch thick. On stage there were holes for more automatons to pop out of, and other souls, bestial in nature, more humanoid than human, were hurling fire- and electrical bolts at the automatons, which destroyed them, though they were soon replaced. Nothing could destroy the spider. Sentient bunnies attended the pieces of automata and appeared to be maintenance crew.
Several of the more refined beings took notice of me and gave me a nod and/or a smile. One male being, dressed in purple robes accented in gold braids and a crown atop his insectoid head, addressed me and said, “Well, if it isn’t the demon, Tom Hedlund!” He was chiding me, but there was a touch of seriousness. I looked at him incredulously and said, “You’d let a demon in here?! I’m no demon.” He laughed and shook his head in bemusement, as if to say, ‘You don’t get it, do you!’ He then said, “No matter–ALL are welcome here!” He had a voice like James Earl Jones. I then noticed another being, who appeared to be almost human, of what some would call African-American descent. She seemed familiar to me, and I later realized that she was an older version of the same woman who had reprimanded me in a dream I had earlier that same day, where I used telekinesis to battle some ruffians inside of a convenience store, and, after killing them, had used my power to prevent them from entering a portal to Heaven.
The woman smiled at me as I approached, but the smile was that of an adult looking down on a small child, which is how I felt in her presence. She could tell that I was making little sense of what was happening around me, and later, upon waking, I would learn that I was trying too hard! She asked me a question (no recollection), and I thought about the answer. When she made no obvious acknowledgement, I said, “Oh, I get it–we’re not omniscient, you can’t read my mind!” She smiled at me like I was a child struggling to learn a difficult concept, and then leaned into me, winked and said, “Don’t be too sure about the mind-reading!” Understanding swept over me–she COULD read my mind, but was being polite to ask the question and wait for a verbal response. I was grateful to be asked!
I had yet to make the connection of the woman to my earlier dream, but now was the time for a revelation! I exclaimed, “I know you!” Her demeanor shifted and she treated me more as an equal. I said to her, “You guard the portal!” She smiled, leaned into me again and said, “Wanna see something?” She then lifted a patch of skin on her right cheek, revealing a glowing white and silver portal–she WAS the portal! It was then that I noticed her gown. It had purposefully cut out holes, revealing her mocha-brown skin underneath. She tossed up her arms and leaned backwards–suddenly small portals opened all over her body, like small mouths. The portals shone with white, silver and violet light, and star-fields twinkled within them. (I would later regret having not asked the woman for permission to jump into one of the portals.) She then displayed written words and phrases UNDER her skin, which glowed like she had a sub-dermal fibre-optic array. I asked her if she knew how to manifest her power in the terrestrial realm, and she seemed slightly sad when she replied, “No.”
I turned my attention back to the creature-and-automata performance. I tried to use telekinesis (TK) to manipulate the automata, but they were unresponsive, and further–my aim kept getting diverted to one of the cute bunnies, and, not wanting to hurt them, I stopped. The other beings continued their elemental assault, which gave me an idea. I’ve managed to hurl a few small fireballs in earlier dreams, though my specialty is TK, so I tried to conjure up a flame spell. I managed to cast a small glowing ball of faintly yellow light and nothing more. I turned to see that the stadium seats were now full and that I had been edged out with distraction. I felt like a fool! All that work to get there first, and now I was out! The dignitaries were now making their way into the theatre, and I knew it was a meeting of the High Council. I had been purposefully distracted so that I would lose my seat in the audience. I gazed at the beings in the seats as the great-hall dissipated around me. I found myself in a back alley, with an old, rusty 1970s-era car, a chain-link fence, and a sky colored in late afternoon. I turned back to the theatre just in time to see a red brick wall fade in and become solid. I had been politely removed from the audience and the activities. I woke up.
Should I ever be granted another opportunity to sit before the High Council, I will avoid the petty distractions!
Early last year, 2019, though I didn’t record the date as I did above, I had another chance to sit, or rather stand, before the High Council. The event took place in a school, inside the faculty lounge. The members of the High Council were teachers in the school. It was an old room, reminiscent of faculty lounges I had glimpsed in 1970s era grammar schools. All of the members were old educators, appearing to be at least sixty, and all of them were in human form.
A line of people, dignitaries really, were gathered at the doorway and down the corridor. Each person in queue was known the the Council, and they were greeted warmly. I watched one soul after another address the Council, wax nostalgic for several moments, and then proceed out of the room. After the last soul had spoken to the Council, I approached and announced myself. I had been in the room the whole time, but kept quiet, unassuming, and respectful. Upon announcing my name the Council members looked confused, passing glances back and forth to each other–they had no knowledge of me and were showing early signs of veiled irritation at my presence. I explained that I had become more spiritually aware since my last invitation, that I had read books about spiritualism– and at that, a female Councilwoman asked incredulously, “What? You’ve read books? Does that mean something?”, and I could see she was far from impressed. I had failed again.
I quickly tried to brighten my spiritual resume, but the Council members began venerating one of their oldest members, a black man who reminded me of the actor Scatman Crothers, famous for The Shining. They politely ignored me. Never asked me to leave, simply adjusted the conversation as though I was invisible and insignificant. A brief moment of indignation came over me, but I choked it down quickly, forced myself to smile, and listened as the Councilman was honored by his peers. I stood there, silently, until the scene faded and I woke up from the dream.
As I awoke a feeling came over me that was inescapable and liberating: I have no need of the High Council to tell me who I am, or to validate my accomplishments or my existence. I decide who I am. I make the choices that shape my being. Even if they had recognized me, what counsel would they have given me? I clearly was far less advanced than those in the crowd who had been welcomed by the Council. The best I could have hoped to receive would have been, “Ah yes, Tom Hedlund. Eleven thousand year old entity. Barely an infant. Your presence is premature. Go and live. That is all.”
Those other souls were there to say hello to old friends; I was there to prove myself. I have lifetimes ahead of me.
(One last thing, since I don’t know where else I’ll get the chance to write this and have it read by someone who will understand. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Luke Skywalker did not kill Darth Vader–Leia did. I saw it, as both spectator and participant, though I do not believe I was she. I was allowed to experience another soul’s memory. George Lucas wrote Star Wars after coming out of a coma. He changed the story.)