Memories and Nightmares: The River
England is still pagan, but the priests and their armies are arriving from overseas to forcibly convert the population to Christianity. I'm a priestess and, whereas everyone else submits to conversion to protect themselves - while secretly holding to the old beliefs - I can't. The priests crucify me.
Later in the dream, I'm being taken in a boat by the chief priest down a river, sleepy, medium flowing, smooth water, with overhanging trees. It's not raining or sunny, a greyish day. My daughter is with me - she's about 9. (It's the first time I ever have a child in a dream). The priest, now away from public gaze, is groping me and I submit (the narratorial sense of the dream enjoys the irony of the celibate, church militant, man of god groping a woman as soon as he gets a chance).
Before I was killed, my daughter was left with her secret, real, non-Christian name which she mustn't use any more but mustn't forget. As she floats down the river near the bank, trailing her hand in the water, she reaches up under an overhanging bit of vegetation. There's an old brick wall or stony bank and she finds the hidden carving of her mother crucified - she looks at it, tracing the marking with her hand - it's one of our religion's secret places. People have submitted to Christianity, but won't forget their true beliefs. I die in this dream and later I'm both alive and have already died.