The Dream of Aengus

In the time when the Tuatha Dé Danann ruled Ireland from their shining halls, there lived among them a god whose beauty and charm were renowned throughout all the realms. This was Aengus Óg, the Young Aengus, son of the Dagda and Boann, goddess of the river. He was the god of love and poetry, of youth and beauty, and wherever he walked, flowers bloomed in his footsteps and birds sang sweeter songs.

Aengus dwelt in the magnificent palace of Brú na Bóinne, a sidhe mound more beautiful than any mortal dwelling. Its halls were lit by their own inner radiance, its walls were decorated with silver and gold, and its gardens bloomed eternal spring. Four magical birds always flew around Aengus’s head, and these birds were his kisses made manifest – they could inspire love in any heart they touched.

Though Aengus was the god of love and had inspired countless romances among both gods and mortals, he himself had never known the deep, transforming love that he brought to others. He had experienced attraction, desire, and affection, but never the soul-deep longing that makes life itself seem incomplete without the beloved.

This changed on a night in early autumn, when the veil between the worlds was thin and dreams carried more weight than waking thoughts. As Aengus lay sleeping in his golden bed, he began to dream of a woman so beautiful that she seemed to be made of starlight and morning mist.

In his dream, she stood by the shore of a lake that reflected not the sky above but some otherworldly realm filled with silver light. Her hair was long and dark as the night between stars, her skin was pale as fresh snow, and her eyes held depths that seemed to contain all the wisdom and sorrow of the world. She wore a simple white dress that moved like water around her graceful form, and when she spoke, her voice was like the music of gentle waves on a peaceful shore.

“Aengus,” she called to him across the dream-water, her voice filled with a longing that matched his own, “find me.”

He tried to approach her, to cross the lake and take her in his arms, but the water stretched endlessly between them. No matter how he swam or how fast his divine powers carried him, she remained always just beyond his reach. And then, just as he felt he might finally touch her hand, he awakened.

The dream left Aengus shaken to his very core. Never before had he experienced such immediate and overwhelming love, such desperate need to find and be with another being. The memory of her face, her voice, her presence, filled his every waking moment until he could think of nothing else.

Night after night, the same dream returned. The mysterious woman would appear by the lake, call his name with that same heartbreaking longing, and reach out to him across waters he could never cross. Each morning he would wake more exhausted than before, more consumed by love for a being he had never met in the waking world.

For a full year and a day, this continued. Aengus, the god who had always been the picture of health and vitality, began to waste away. He lost his appetite, neglected his duties, and spent his days in melancholy contemplation. The flowers that usually bloomed in his footsteps withered, and his magical birds sang only sad, haunting melodies.

The other gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann grew deeply concerned. The Dagda, Aengus’s father, visited his son and was shocked to see how pale and thin the young god had become.

“My son,” the Dagda said, his voice heavy with worry, “what ailment has befallen you? Are you cursed? Have you been poisoned? Tell me, and I will move heaven and earth to cure you.”

Aengus looked up at his father with eyes that held a pain deeper than any physical wound. “No curse, Father, unless love itself is a curse. No poison, except the poison of longing. I dream each night of a woman I have never met, and I love her with such intensity that life without her seems meaningless.”

The Dagda stroked his great beard thoughtfully. “Dreams that recur with such power often carry truth within them. Perhaps this woman is real, and your dream is a message from the Otherworld. Let me summon those who might help us solve this mystery.”

The Dagda called upon Brigid, the goddess of wisdom and prophecy, and together they consulted the ancient oracles and searched through the memories of the wisest druids. After much investigation, they discovered that there was indeed a young woman who matched Aengus’s description – but she was not of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

“Her name is Caer Ibormeith,” Brigid announced, “and she is the daughter of Ethal Anbuail, a king of the Sidhe from Connacht. But there is something unusual about her – she lives under an enchantment that transforms her shape with the turning of the seasons.”

“What kind of enchantment?” Aengus asked, hope rising in his heart for the first time in months.

“For one year, she lives as a human woman,” Brigid explained. “But on the feast of Samhain, she and one hundred and fifty other maidens transform into swans and live upon the lake of Dragon’s Mouth in Connacht. They remain as swans for a year, then return to human form for another year, and so the cycle continues.”

Aengus leaped to his feet, energy coursing through him like lightning. “Then I must go to this lake! If she is there, I will find her!”

“Wait,” the Dagda cautioned. “It is not so simple. Ethal Anbuail is a proud king who does not welcome strangers, especially those who come seeking his daughter. We must approach this diplomatically.”

But Aengus was beyond patience. Love had waited too long already, and he would not be delayed by politics and protocol. With the Dagda’s reluctant blessing, he set out for Connacht, accompanied by a small retinue of divine warriors.

When they arrived at the hall of Ethal Anbuail, they were received with the courtesy due to members of the Tuatha Dé Danann, but also with obvious suspicion. Ethal was an ancient being, older than the coming of the gods to Ireland, and he guarded his realm jealously.

“Welcome, son of the Dagda,” Ethal said as they feasted in his hall. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Aengus looked directly into the king’s eyes, his divine nature blazing with barely contained power. “I have come for your daughter, Caer Ibormeith. I love her with all my being, and I wish to make her my wife.”

Ethal’s expression hardened. “My daughter is not for the likes of you, young god. She is under an enchantment that cannot be broken, and even if it could be, I would not give her to one who comes demanding rather than requesting.”

“Then I request,” Aengus said, forcing humility into his voice. “I ask for the chance to court your daughter, to prove my worthiness, and to win her love honestly.”

“Impossible,” Ethal replied. “As I told you, she is under an enchantment. Tomorrow is Samhain, and she will transform into a swan for the next year. Even if you could find her among the one hundred and fifty swan-maidens on the lake, you could not speak with her or court her in that form.”

Aengus felt his heart sink, but then a new determination filled him. “Then I will find another way. I will not abandon her to loneliness and enchantment.”

That night, as Samhain began and the veil between worlds grew thin, Aengus made his way to the lake of Dragon’s Mouth. The water was still and black as obsidian, reflecting the star-filled sky like a mirror. As the moon reached its zenith, Aengus heard the sound of wings overhead.

One hundred and fifty swans descended from the night sky, their wings catching the moonlight like silver flames. They settled on the lake with graceful splashes, and as they did, Aengus could see that each swan wore a silver chain around its neck – all except one, who wore a chain of pure gold.

Even in swan form, Aengus recognized his beloved immediately. She was more beautiful as a swan than any of the others, her feathers pure white as fresh snow, her neck gracefully curved, her eyes still holding that depth of wisdom and longing he remembered from his dreams.

Without hesitation, Aengus called upon his own divine powers of transformation. His form shifted and flowed until he too became a swan – but not an ordinary swan. He became a swan of supernatural beauty, with feathers that seemed to contain their own inner light and a voice that could sing with the power of the gods themselves.

He glided out onto the lake, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear. What if she rejected him? What if the enchantment prevented her from recognizing him? What if Ethal had been right, and their love was impossible?

But as he approached the swan with the golden chain, she turned toward him, and in her dark eyes he saw immediate recognition and joy. She had been dreaming of him just as he had been dreaming of her – their souls had been calling to each other across the barriers of sleep and enchantment.

The two swans swam together in the moonlight, and though they could not speak in human words, their hearts communicated in ways deeper than speech. They danced on the water, their necks intertwining, their movements creating ripples that caught the starlight like scattered diamonds.

As dawn approached and the other swans prepared to fly away for their year of wandering, Caer made a choice that would echo through legend forever. Instead of following her companions, she remained with Aengus, choosing love over the safety of the familiar.

Together, they sang a song of such beauty and power that it caused all who heard it to fall into a peaceful sleep for three days and three nights. The song carried their love across all of Ireland, blessing every couple, healing every broken heart, and reminding the world that true love could overcome any obstacle.

When the three days ended, both Aengus and Caer resumed their human forms, standing together on the shore of the lake as the sun rose over the water. The enchantment that had bound Caer was broken by the power of their mutual love and sacrifice.

“I have found you at last,” Aengus said, taking her hands in his. “In dreams and in waking, in human form and as swans, you are my heart’s true home.”

“And you are mine,” Caer replied, her voice exactly as beautiful as it had been in his dreams. “I knew you before I saw you, loved you before I met you. We were meant to be together from the beginning of time.”

They returned to Brú na Bóinne as husband and wife, and their love became legendary throughout Ireland. Their wedding feast lasted for a year and a day, and it was said that their happiness was so great that it caused the spring to come early and the harvest to be more bountiful than ever before.

Caer became a goddess in her own right, sharing Aengus’s dominion over love and beauty. Together, they inspired countless romances and helped lovers throughout Ireland overcome the obstacles that stood between them and their heart’s desire.

The Dream of Aengus became one of the most beloved stories in all of Irish mythology, teaching that true love is worth any sacrifice, any quest, any transformation. It reminds us that the deepest connections between souls can transcend the boundaries of dreams and waking, of different forms and different worlds.

And it shows us that sometimes the most powerful magic in the universe is the simple willingness to risk everything for love – to dive into unknown waters, to take forms we have never taken before, and to choose the beloved over all the safety and comfort of the familiar world.