Sasquatch Nation




In the realm of dreams, I found myself wandering up a valley, a place that felt both familiar and otherworldly, like the spirit of Kitwanga, where my heart grew. I walked alongside my friend Stacey, and we came upon a gathering of people, drawn together by the call of the mountain standing tall beside us, like a guardian watching over the land.


As I looked upon the mountainside, my eyes widened in wonder. I saw a few Sasquatch moving gracefully among the trees, their presence ancient and powerful. As I continued to gaze, more and more appeared, until the whole mountainside was alive with their forms—hundreds of Sasquatch, a gathering of the wise ones, watching over us.


I wanted Stacey to see this sacred sight, but he decided to return to the village. A worry crept into my heart; I feared for him, for the Sasquatch felt like they were there for a reason. It was as if they were teaching a lesson—a reminder to respect the land and to feel the balance of fear and reverence for life.


Though I felt the chill of fear, it was not directed at the Sasquatch. I sensed their approach, but I was unsure of where to walk. I felt alone in my thoughts, even though a child’s spirit wandered with me for a time, a spark of innocence amid the uncertainty.


With hope in my heart, I called my mother, sharing the wondrous sight of the Sasquatch. Her voice danced with joy, celebrating this moment as a blessing from the Creator, reminding me of the connection we hold to all things.


Seeking a place of safety, I stepped into a diner with a wide parking lot, a gathering place of life. I entered the washroom, accompanied by the little girl, confusion swirling within me. I felt lost and afraid, knowing the Sasquatch were coming into our community.


When we left the washroom, I saw the Sasquatch approaching, and I hurried back into the café. I sought refuge in the back, where a white woman joined me. I suggested we hide in the storage room, and we locked the door behind us. But the Sasquatch entered as if the door were a mere illusion.


They looked at the woman with a fierce gaze, then turned to me, their expression softening. In that moment, I recognized one of them—my auntie, a familiar spirit from my past. Though fear lingered, love surged within me as she reached out her hand, welcoming me with warmth.


She admired the necklace I wore, perhaps my cherished silver sheen obsidian, a symbol of our connection. Just as she was about to leave, the woman spoke without thought, and in an instant, my auntie’s patience faded. With a swift motion, she removed the woman from our space, a guardian protecting what is sacred.


Turning back to me, my auntie offered her hand, inviting me to join her. My heart swelled with gratitude, though fear still danced in my chest. I took her hand and kissed it, for the love we shared transcended the boundaries of our worlds, connecting our spirits in a dance of reunion.


And so, in this dream, the story unfolds—a mystical journey woven with threads of love, respect, and the teachings of our ancestors, reminding us of the sacred balance between humanity and the spirit world.


Hag’wila’win 

Gya’un’nisim

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