Prophetic Dreams: A Curse or a Legacy

By Alfreða Jonsdottir

Gudrun Osvifsdottir, Prophetic Dreams' willful protagonist, is not only renowned for her beauty and intelligence, she is also thought to be the best catch in the district. Headstrong and spoiled by her adoring parents, she yearns for female friendship. Growing up on a tenth-century farm in an isolated region in Iceland, she cannot understand why the few girls living in her district have persistently avoided her. On the other hand, all eligible males compete for her recognition. Basking under their high-spirited attentiveness, she soon convinces herself the only reason she is ignored by her peers is because they are jealous of all the attention bestowed on her by the male population. This protective shield may guard her growing ego, but it soon sets her further apart from the other females that live in her area.

Pagan Icelanders believed dreams foretold the future. Haunted by nightmares, her parents enlist the nation's most famous seer to translate them for her. A melodramatic young girl, her emotions are soon stirred into a frenzy by his interpretation.

As foreshadowed, tragedies do occur. One death is even rumoured to be the result of black magic. Later, a misunderstanding and silent accusations create a slow pyroclastic flow of vengeance. Will the stakes be too high for our protagonist? Will she lose the one man she admires and respects more than any other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Nov 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9780228882565

Alfreða Jonsdottir

This is my second book, where once again I borrow characters from the ancient Icelandic manuscript, Laxdæla Saga. I am married and live in Calgary, Alberta, where I am working on my third novel. We have one son who is married with two daughters and lives in the same city. I use the pen name of Alfreða Jonsdottir—why? Jonsdottir literally means that I am the daughter of Jon (John), so I do this in memory of my father, Gudjon John. I hold an honours diploma in Library and Information Management (LIT) from SAIT.contact information: [e-mail]'s blog:https://introducingnewbooks.wordpress.com/

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Part I

Most power is he who has himself in his own power.

- Seneca the Younger (4 BCE – 65 CE)

Chapter 1

Laugar, Saelingsdal, Iceland circa 990 CE

A woman rushes into the room shouting, "Gudrun, Gudrun, elskamin, wake up. You are having another bad dream. Wake up!" The woman continues to shake the sleeping girl, trying to bring her out of her nightmare.

Her eyelashes flutter as the woman brushes away the sweaty red hair from her eyes. They open slowly, and the most remarkable blue eyes stare back at the woman trying to wake her. Finally, the girl recognizes her. "Oh mamma, I … it’s you, she whispers anxiously. Why is this … happening to me? Such a … a … awful, awful dreams keep returning to haunt me."

At first, her words stumble out, but then, with a clearer voice, she proceeds to retell the nightmare to her mother. "I dreamt about a black cloud that looked like hands—they were alive. Those hands turned out to be a monstrous demon churning the sea into a foaming killer. Oh, mamma, those poor men tried to avoid death by unloading their cargo, instead, they all disappeared into the treacherous black water. There was no warning of impending danger; the ship was just suddenly there, in the middle of a fury unleashed by this demon. What does this all mean? She gasped for air, then continued. Hopefully, by telling you what I just witnessed, it will cleanse my head of some of the visions. Sometimes that works for me. Please help me, mamma. What can I do about them? I have made many sacrifices to Freya in the hope she will watch over me and stop all this nonsense. Am I going barking mad just like our old sheepdog did?"

Collapsing against her mother, she cradled her head on her mother’s loosely wound blonde braid as if using it for a cushion. Sobbing softly, she picks it up and sniffs it. I love your smell; it is always so clean and fresh. Hugging her tightly at first, her mother then gently lays her down and, with her fingers, sweeps the sweaty red locks off her face. Then using the baggy sleeve of her night dress, she dries her tears all the while speaking in a soothing voice. "Elskamin do not worry. Forget about making sacrifices to Freya. They have obviously not helped you! You need to speak with someone who can interpret the ones you do remember. Maybe then they will go away once you understand them. And I know of such a man, elskamin. Gestur Oddleifsson, your father’s friend. Fortunately, he will be passing by here soon, on his way to the Althing, you know, the National Assembly where all our important leaders meet. He is the most well-known expert in translating dreams. Iceland’s best-known seer. You must speak with him. We will try and get him to stay overnight as it may take some time for you to relate your dreams and for him to analyze them."

"Will pabbi agree? He will have to pay him, and you know he does not like to part with his silver."

Do not worry about him. I will make him see the value of you understanding your dreams. I see now that you cannot go forward until you do.

The young girl wrapped her arms around her neck. "Takk mamma, eg pu elska."

Chapter 2

Dreams Interpreted

Gudrun made herself comfortable on the edge of the thermal hot spring. As she settled in, she looked around, and all she could see were the same old rocks and shrubs that surrounded her favorite spot. Although the quiet was what she enjoyed the most to gather her thoughts together, she loved to hear the birds serenade her on occasion. Here she was free of the constant chatter, and the gossip-mongering, from her older brothers who lived nearby. Although married, they were in and out of her parent’s house too much for her liking. All her life, she had to put up with their teasing about the colour of her hair. They were all blonds like their mother, while she and the youngest brother got the red hair from their father.

This hill was clearly visible from all directions, including their farm, but her hot spring in the middle of this mound was virtually invisible to the naked eye. Except, of course, on very cold days, when the rising steam would give it away. Her magical place was part of her father’s farmland and an easy walk from her parent’s turf house. She used it more than the others; she alone no longer noticed the slight sulphur smell of the water. The others used it for their weekly bathing in summer and their biweekly bathing in winter and usually complained of the smell. The soil covering the hill itself was being gradually washed away, especially now with the recent heavy rainstorms that battered the hillside. The bad weather continued; spring had been slow to arrive. Today was no different; ominous clouds hung low over the hill, threatening more rain. Even in decent weather, nothing survived, except moss and a few fragile plants that managed to cling to the base of the stones spread around the water’s edge. A few hardy shrubs struggled to live. Stray sheep soon nibbled off any plants that managed to sprout leaves.

Leaning backwards with her hands supporting her, Gudrun wiggled her toes in the warm water as she gazed at the threatening sky. The sun had finally ventured out from behind a cloud, and it felt warm on her face. She smiled to herself as she continued thinking. Ahhh, this is my favorite place to escape the antics of my older brothers, such bullies they are! Telling me what to do all the time! At least they no longer tease me about the colour of my hair. No sheep here today; that is a good sign. My attempts to block any openings to keep them away must be working. Usually, there is one or two, and then I must take them back to their herd. Such a nuisance they are. It is a mystery to me what attracts them to this location. They do so much damage to this fragile land. I have tried to get pabbi to build barriers to keep them away, but he places no value on this hillside other than to treat it as our private bathing area.

She sat up and wiggled her bum into a more comfortable position. Alas, he doesn’t think it worth saving. I love it here and what makes it even better is that so few people know of its existence, except of course for pabbi’s friend, Gestur Oddleifsson. Come to think of it, if he is going to stop here for a rest on his journey this spring, I hope it will be soon. Mamma’s right about most things. I must speak with him if he really is the country’s expert at interpreting dreams.

She rolled up her skirts while dangling her feet in the warm water. Her toes began to tingle just like they did from the heat from the turf fires in the middle of winter. Combined with the sun’s warmth on her legs, she began to feel giddy with pleasure, thinking, summer is around the corner. Trying to relax, she gently laid her head against a big rock as she recalled her strange dreams that had haunted her over the past winter. Those visions were constantly on her mind, as well as the depressing winter that had just passed. Even though spring had finally arrived, the wintry weather continued.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped her favorite blue shawl tighter around herself, thinking, it had to have been the constant dreadful weather that precipitated those strange dreams. Now that the spring equinox had passed, the time for the Althing was fast approaching. Patience was not her strong point; she forced herself to endure the wait for the second day in a row, hoping that today was the day this old friend of her fathers would stop by on his way there. Pabbi always said that Gestur never failed to attend the yearly assembly and always stopped at this spring to rest. The main path most travellers used was just on the other side of this small hill, so this resting spot was ideal for him. A short rest here would break up his journey before making his way to his sister’s farm, which was not that far away. Her mother told her that his son lived and worked on the farm where he planned to spend the night. This way, he got to visit with him as well as his sister before making his way to the Althing. Although Gestur was an important chieftain who lived in the West Fjords, according to her mother, he was even more renowned as a seer—someone who could interpret dreams and foretell the future. What if he is dead? thought Gudrun. Last time I saw him, he looked to be an old man then.

Her mother had talked to her father as promised; he approved of his wife’s plan and asked his daughter to extend an invitation to Gestur to stay with them for one night if she met him at the thermal spring. His old friend usually had the place to himself; he reminded his wife. Remember, Thordis. I promised him privacy. It is an exceedingly long journey, and he will be tired. Gudrun must not get her hopes up. Chances are he will not want to make any detours.

Nonsense, Osvif. Gudrun will convince him to stay, otherwise, I fear she will be very disappointed not to know what her dreams really mean.

My dear wife. I too, fear our daughter’s disappointment and even more her moodiness if he does not. Our daughter can be overdramatic at times, can she not?

Thordis slapped his thick arm playfully, then, with a show of love, softly rubbed the spot where she had hit him feeling the roughness of his home-spun tunic. "Come now; you are the one who really spoils her. You understand her moods as she is more like you than me. You have to admit I am right now, elskamin."

Osvif, a descendant of Bjorn the Easterner and Aud the Deep-minded, is a man of some wealth but weak with his womenfolk. A redhead like his daughter and youngest son, he was well regarded in the area by some neighbours who thought he was a wise man in most matters, while a few gossiped about their dealings with him. They claimed he was ‘rather vain and stubborn’ to deal with, ‘too single-minded’ at times. His quick temper often hampered any deals made. There were five boys—Ospak, Helgi, Vandrad, Torrad, and Thorolf—all considered to be like their father, single-minded, full of self-importance, and short tempered when provoked. This combination sometimes got them in trouble with the other boys their age.

Everyone considered Gudrun to be the fairest and most intelligent in all the land. A fine catch for any man, one of the elders said at the last rettir. She is shrewd, articulate, and will make someone a good wife.

Keep in mind that she was deemed to be thus solely by the male population in the area. Most of the single men agreed with their fathers and thought she would make a good wife, and a few dreamed of success. The young female population were unanimous in their opinion and painted quite a different picture of her. Although they accepted her beauty to be true and could not fault her intelligence, they found her to be aloof, snobbish, and above her station. Many thought her dreams were childish efforts to gain attention. They also thought that her father did not have the kind of wealth to warrant her standoffish attitude towards them. Thus, she had no female friends, only male friends. Gudrun felt the disdain of the females but put it down to jealousy. Nevertheless, it hurt her deeply that they felt that way about her. Gradually she built an armour of formality to protect herself. The last thing she wanted was to expose how vulnerable she was to their opinions of her, even though she longed for a female friend to confide in. Her two sisters-in-law only just tolerated her; they kept their distance as well.

Snap.

She heard a branch from a shrub break. Someone was coming. Swift as a fox, she sprang up, tying her leather boots on as fast as possible. It would be unseemly to be caught sitting with her skirts pulled up over her knees. An old man approached, carefully guiding his horse over the small rocks to her side of the spring. She greeted him with respect. Good day to you. I know you are Gestur Oddleifsson, I am Gudrun, daughter of Osvif.

I am indeed the very man you say I am. Greetings to you, fair maiden. It has been too long since we last met; you were not more than a child. Since then, I have heard good things spoken of you. Your father is a good friend indeed. Please tell him how much I appreciate his kind offer to use his hot spring to break up my long journey.

Gudrun was surprised at how young his voice sounded. My father has sent me to greet you and to offer hospitality for the night. Your presence would be an honour for us all.

The old man got off his horse with obvious fatigue. He led the horse to a small bush nearby, where he was tethered. Retrieving a soft cloth from his bag, he gently rubbed him down. Alas, I will have to refuse such an honourable invitation as my sister is expecting me to arrive and I am already two days late. My horse had a good drink from the river. Now I will rest while he has his feed of oats. He patted the horse and then hung a bag containing his oats over the horse’s head.

Oh, no, now what? She hesitated only for a moment, then rushed in with her request before she lost her nerve. My father warned me that you would be focused on your journey, but I have a great desire to speak with you. Your interpretation of dreams is well known in this country, and I have had several strange recurring ones over this last winter. Although I have had several people tell me what they think they mean, their definitions were very unsatisfactory to me. My mother convinced me that what I need is a seer’s analysis. I was hoping you would take the time to listen to how my dreams have unfurled.

Gestur sighed and said, I’ve had a long journey and was hoping to rest but … The circles under his eyes were dark and baggy from fatigue. He slumped down on a rock. Come sit with me while I eat something. The old man invited her to sit with him as he opened his sack to look for something to eat.

Here. Gudrun quickly bent down to pick up her small basket and took out a bowl of skyr to offer to him. "My mother makes delicious skyr. I think you will find it quite refreshing."

He suddenly smiled. "Skyr is my favorite snack, and I see that it is covered in fresh bilberries, another favorite." He accepted the food with pleasure. Gudrun was amazed at his transformation. He suddenly looked less tired than before. With his eyes fixed on the bilberries, he scooped a spoonful of the fresh fruit with some skyr. "Delicious! Takk. While I am enjoying this treat, tell me about your dreams. I do not promise to understand them; I can only promise that I will listen and ponder over their meaning."

Satisfied with his response, Gudrun sat down by his feet so she could watch his expressions. She tidied her layers of clothing. The weather was still too cool not to wear more than one smock. The yellow wool strap dress was heavy enough to keep the other two smocks in order, but now nervous, she played as if to get her clothing organized, giving her time to think. Tightening her favorite blue shawl around her shoulders, the one that brought out the colour of her eyes, she smiled, then flashed those startling eyes at Gestur, and began her story.

My dreams have been many recently, even the odd nightmare, which may not be related. I do believe that the nightmares occur only with my frustration of not understanding the other dreams. Four distinct ones continue to cause me great concern. I am unsure in which order to retell them but have an idea this is the first because I am quite young in this dream. I find myself by a stream wearing a traditional Icelandic headdress. I struggle with it as I think it does not suit me. I try to take it off, but when I cannot seem to remove it gently, I grab it with a strength I did not know I possessed and throw it far into the air. It seemed to fly away into a nearby stream. It is lost forever; that is all to this dream.

The old man continues to eat. Do continue child; this does not mean much to me, but the others may be related.

Gudrun resumes talking. In my second dream, I believe it to be me. More than the thirteen winters I am now, but here I am in my dream wearing a silver armband which I admire. It suits me, and I am pleased to show it off. One day I am by a lake and waving my arms about; why I do not know, but it slides off and flies into the water. It is lost forever. What unnerves me though, is that I am terribly saddened by this. It is not a person but a thing. I cannot understand why this piece of metal should distress me so. Is it possible that the nightmares occur because of my distress?

Neither dream is telling me anything, Gestur answers as he looks off into the distance. Do continue. We will discuss the nightmare last.

In my third dream, I see a woman with a child. I do not know if it is me or someone else, but if it is me, I must be older to have had a child. This time it involves a gold arm ring. Now this woman appears to be quite pleased with this piece which obviously costs much more than the silver one. Suddenly a mass of people appear with their arms raised. They charge at her, which alarms and frightens her into running away. Unfortunately, she falls, and the ring breaks in two when her arm hits a stone. She does not appear to be hurt, but the damaged ring appears to bleed. She is devastated about this as if she is grieving a personal loss—strange reaction, is it not? After all, it is only a broken arm ring. While holding up the two pieces, a flaw like a hairline crack appears, and on examining it closer, there appear to be many such flaws. Is it possible that is why it broke in the first place? Then what comes into my head is that if she had taken better care of it, she would still have the gold arm ring on her arm to admire.

Hmmm, Gestur replies. And your fourth dream?

Same woman but older with several children about. In this dream, she is wearing a beautiful headdress that reminds me of the traditional Icelandic headwear we wear at weddings. It is covered in many precious stones, which makes it too heavy to wear. It is a treasure beyond words, and it makes me think of a crown that the royal kings and queens wear. She finds herself on a ship; her head bends under the weight of the heavy headdress. Unfortunately, as she bends her head, this headdress or crown if you like, falls off into the water. It is lost forever. She pauses. Is it possible my nightmare is linked to this dream? Because this one disturbs me very much, more even than the second one. Now for my nightmare. It is my shortest dream but the most terrifying. I witnessed a ship broken into pieces by a monster camouflaged as a storm. All the passengers drown. Now that you have heard them all; what do they mean to you?

Gestur hesitates; he appears to search the face of the young woman. I have heard many stories of your exceptional beauty. I see that the rumours are correct. The colour of your hair is very unusual, a redhead with such brilliant blue eyes full of intelligence. You do not miss much, young lady. The combination can be overwhelming for any young man, including this old man. You will never lack offers of marriage. Your dreams are noticeably clear to me now that I have heard all four of them, and they are related, and the woman in all four dreams is you. As for your nightmare, I cannot tell you if it is linked to any of the ones you just described. What your four dreams tell me, though, is that you will have four different husbands. Finding the headdress unsuitable tells me that you do not much like this man, and throwing the object away represents his dismissal from your life. How you rid yourself of him, I cannot say as I do not know. I did not foresee a death; evidently, you did not either. In your second dream, you appear to like this man and enjoy his company, but it will be short-lived. He will drown.

Gudrun gasps. Drowns?

Gestur appears unmoved by her reaction. Hmmm. Maybe your nightmare has some connection here, but I did not envision a storm, only a floating body. Your third husband, although he is represented by a gold arm ring, is not necessarily more precious than the second. The people with their arms in the air represent a transformation of some sort, and because there is a mass of people, it will probably affect many. This effect appears to be because of this man, your third husband. Maybe he is part of this change, who knows? That part is not clear to me. There has been much talk of a new religion. Many people in this country fear its arrival. They say that it will change our way of life. I have heard many declare that they will not accept it, that they will fight this trend which is overtaking the rest of Europe. You may have overheard such heated discussions and a fear of this has worked its way into your dreams. This gold ring bleeds, and this tells me he will die violently, and after his death, you will see the flaws in your relationship.

A new religion? Gudrun looks up into his eyes in wonder.

Yes, a new religion is a distinct possibility. There are many here who fear its arrival, including myself. Now your fourth husband is represented by a crown or a jeweled headdress. This tells me that he far surpasses you in stature, but you are quite content with this new status. He, too, drowns. Your nightmare may also have a connection here, but here too, I see nothing to indicate this. That is all I can make of these dreams for now. Your dreams are unique and interesting to me, but I must ponder on them. We will speak again one day.

Gudrun remained quiet during most of his explanations, with only a few minor interruptions. His analysis of her dreams has astounded her, for they are nothing like the other interpretations she has heard. She quietly whispers as if to