ancestors and path

I was sitting in a hall filled with people who were seated in rows before a raised platform serving as a stage. From my seat against the back wall, I could see everyone in the space. There was some kind of extreme church service underway. A preacher was whipping the crowd into a frenzy and people were responding by loosing control, calling out and fainting. Arms were lifted to the heavens and there was much singing. I did my best not to stand out but I felt uncomfortable; I joined the singing very quietly but that was all. Even singing, my own voice sounded loud and close, as though I had my hands over my ears. I wanted to leave the space as I did not feel that it was genuine or real.
Next, I was in a room with old friends. I seemed to be staying at their house. I could see photographs of my family decorating the walls. I wondered why they were there. I picked up one photograph and pointed out my mother and my father at a younger age. I also pointed out myself, but then, as I looked closely, I realised it wasn't me but an aunt on my mother's side. I didn't correct myself but wondered that I seemed to look so similar to her in the photo.
Next, I was in a large room with a group of elderly women. Some of them were women I knew when I was a child, church friends of my grandmother; others were ancestors - great grandmothers, great aunts and women who had lived and died perhaps a hundred or so years ago. We were standing and seated around a large wooden table that occupied most of the room, preparing for a formal meal together. My sister was there also. One of the women said to me that what I was wearing was alright for now, but that I would have to change into something more suitable for a 'relative dinner'. I was alarmed as I was sure that I had not packed anything more formal than what I was wearing. I felt that there would be no pleasing anyone and that I would rather leave than try. I also felt that I would be judged for my life and life choices. I spoke briefly with my sister and we planned to leave soon. She went to fetch her backpack so that we could continue trekking. Before I left, I sat at the table for an announcement: a woman was about to arrive who had been a martyr in her time. Apparently she lived at least a hundred years ago and that she had been crucified; they compared her suffering to that of Jesus Christ. She arrived, a hunched, frail ancient woman wearing a moss green dress. Rather than sitting at the table, she slipped underneath it, crawled across the floor to where I was sitting and started biting my arm which was protected somewhat by my long, thick sleeves. I lay on the floor next to her and gently took my arm away, wondering why she was biting me. I didn't want to hurt her and thought she might have a message, some piece of wisdom for me. As I looked at her, I noticed how fresh and young her skin was and how bright her eyes, and I told her so. She told me that her name was Fun. I helped her to her feet and supported her back, walking her out of the room and toward another table - a stall at a fete, surrounded by women. As we walked, she turned into a small doll that I held in my hand and waved at the women. They all wanted her as she made them laugh and started calling out her name: Fun.
Next, I was on the grounds of an institution where I had built something special although I am not sure what it was or if it was tangible. I was prevented from entering the space where I could find out by a high wire fence. I thought of scaling the fence but I could see three strands of barbed wire lining the top and I suspected that it might be an electric fence. Sure enough, I watched as one person tried to climb it and received an electric shock at the top. On the other side of the fence, I could see a large game of football or soccer going on. The ball was kicked over the fence and I caught it for a moment with my legs before it rolled down the hill. A young woman followed the ball; I watched her unusual method of climbing over the fence by climbing up and sitting on the wire fence to weigh it down, slipping backwards under the lowest of the three wires, and backflipping off the fence. She fetched the ball and repeated the move, back into the fenced area. I copied her actions and found myself inside the fence. Standing watching me was a tiny boy, about two years old, and I knew he was my child. I hugged and kissed him, told him I loved him, and then let him go. I knew that he would not remember this and that he thought he had no mother.