Swimming Team and Old Friends

I remember two distinct dreams from last night, and I don't believe that the two were connected in any way.  


Dream 1 - I have started a new job with a law enforcement place.  I'm unsure if this is a police station or a security office, but there is a sense of great discipline there.  I am told I need to pick a physical exercise slot, and choose to go on a swim team.  In talking with the instructor, I tell him that it's been a long time since I was in a pool and will need to build up my stamina.  He suggested I work on swimming widths to get started.  I feel relief that I will not be pushed beyond my limit at this stage.  I also feel excitement and anticipation at the prospect of this new venture.


Dream 2 - There is excitement in the air, and I am rushing around to prepare for a ritual.  I become aware that I, along with the group, are in what appears to be a university dormitory, more specifically, in the common area.  There is an elevator to my left, the large room is furnished with bookshelves, couches, easy chairs and scattered small tables.  One of the larger tables has been appropriated to serve as an altar and I am making the final adjustments to it.  The altar is covered with an ivory cloth and the candles are a soft beige and fragrant beeswax.


There's a ripple of heightened excitement as a lady of grand presence makes her appearance.  I almost fall to my knees as I recognize Baroness Fiona.  She is dressed in very rich heraldic garb, but the heraldry is unknown to me, even though it carries the colours of Rising Waters.  She carries a long staff and is adorned with a crown of silver inset with large emeralds.  Her smile .is warm and generous and she greets me with the same spirit of love and welcome she has always exhibited.  I embrace her, wondering how it is she has come back, recalling all to well her funeral and memorial of so many years ago.


Before I could ask, the elevator door opens, and a man steps out.  He too is extraordinary - his hair and beard is long, thick and snow-white.  He wears a braid down his back and his beard is also braided in an intricate way.  His robes are of rich ivory brocade, ecclesiastical at first glance, but not of any church.  Upon his head is a wreath of ivy and wheat, and in his hands he carries an arrangement of orange candles that will go on the altar.  The colour combination of ivory and orange is absolutely breathtaking.  


In the awed hush that is commanded by his presence he seeks me out to specifically tell me that the braids contain certain powerful names.  These are to be released at a certain time in the ritual by me unbraiding first his back braid, and then his beard.  That one, he tells me, will have my True Name.


He and Fiona stand side by side, and I do indeed drop to my knees now, overpowered by the power and majesty of The God and Goddess together.