My Birth Name July 2002
It was in July of 2002 when I was given the memory of my father naming me shortly after birth.
On that same night I also had a dream of receiving the gift of a condor feather. It was placed in a long velvet case, the type used for a necklace. I opened this box given to me by an Angel spirit and saw it held an exquisite feather. Years later I would dream of this feather being used to write a story. It seems to me now I was being shown I would one day write my story, and through this act my heart would again be open and full of love….and my spirit would fly with joy!
I was taken aback by this vision of my naming, it was so completely unexpected. At the time I felt the name he gave me was too beautiful and important for me to carry, taking me many years to accept as my own. The process involved first unraveling the layers of pain and guilt that prevented me remembering not only my birth name but my birth parents, surrogate parents and grandparents. This would be the key to acceptance.
My father held me in his arms, looking down upon my face. He was wearing a pale yellow shirt the colour of butter. His hair was shoulder length, dark brown and curly. I could only see him from the side, looking on as if watching myself in a movie and as he said, “And I shall call you Gabriel,” the vision abruptly ended. It was just this amazing moment in time bringing with it all the love connecting me to my beautiful father.
I describe these memories as being very short as if someone has just handed me a photograph to look at. They are usually in black and white and come to me during the short theta state before coming fully awake. There is always a great deal of emotion attached to the experience and a sense of loss so great I cannot help but cry. They are wrapped in feelings so deep as I relive the pain of saying goodbye to those who loved me, asking myself, “Who are these people? What are their names? Where did we live?” All questions left unanswered for so many years.
The next day when I told Patrick what happened he had no doubt about it at all, which surprised me. He said it was right and began calling me Gabriel right away and forever after. It was, however, less easy for me to accept. It was not that I didn’t want to acknowledge my true name, but more that I had been taught to fear the consequence of carrying that name.
I never liked the name Brenda, given to me upon arriving in Canada, and wearing it until my early thirties.* While the memories of the trauma associated with receiving this name were safely locked away, over time it became the invisible albatross around my neck.
Despite not remembering the original experience, this pseudo name associated with those events was a constant subconscious reminder of my loss. As time passed it bothered me more and more, though I could not explain why. I just did not feel a connection. It was something that stood beside me.
The name Gabriel, reconnecting me to myself, also brought with it memories of my surrogate parents in whose care I was entrusted for those precious first few years. I was so loved by them and when their love was torn away, replaced with anger, jealousy and abuse the biggest question was, why? Thus I began in earnest to ask myself, Who am I? Why all the secrecy? Who would do such a thing?
I have gone through my entire life trapped by guilt, fear, and a lack of understanding. Learning my birth name was an incredible gift allowing me to face the awful truth of what happened so many years before. Although my father died when I was very young, his spirit remains with me today. He has often come to me in dreams and found ways to give me strength to take one more step, face one more day, to find my way home when it all seemed so impossibly hard.
It all started with a name, a beautiful name, full of meaning and power. I am Gabriel, and I remember!
December 12, 2018
I awoke this morning remembering the most incredible dream. I had trouble sleeping, kept waking up and each time I fell back to sleep I had the same dream. I was seeing a map and I knew it had something to do with the falls near where I am staying in Ecuador.
Peguché Falls was the name I kept hearing and the map seemed to include the paths around the falls, although in truth it was very difficult to understand how large an area the map covered. This was first of all because I kept waking up and also because there were flashing circles on the map in red and green—a distraction keeping me from being able to see the different locations and their names.
The last time I fell into the dream I saw a statue, an object I can only describe as incredible. In this overpowering, ultimate moment I am filled with wonder, emotion deeper than oceans as I am given the statue capturing the moment of my naming.* Cradled in my father’s arm as he looks into my eyes and speaks the words forever engraved on the plaque of my heart, “And I shall call you Gabriel. Viva la Revolución.”
It would have been my mother who commissioned the piece, depicting a very special moment for both her and my father. It was obvious to me in other dreams I had of them they shared an intense, strong and loving bond. I was a beautiful result of this relationship that was not permitted. The statue of this moment made all the more poignant for the recognition of this truth. I would also guess she added Viva la Revolución as her endorsement of his humanitarian cause and perhaps at once giving me a strong clue as to the identity of my father. As it unfurls in the context of my life and my aversion to violence, I see the continuation of the revolution as the expansion of love—without guns. In this new chapter his revolution is alive and well.
Seeing the statue made me want to draw the image, and perhaps have one made just like it. It was not until later that morning I began to realize this would not be necessary because the statue already exists, my emotions in the moment clouding my understanding of this truth. This became an extremely emotional moment for me, a feeling of supreme gratification! At last there could be proof of this pivotal moment—receiving my name.
*see Passport, Chapter I, page 21
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