I recently went to the Bahamas in search of pirate treasure. Here is the story of how that came to be:

More than six years ago, on December 7, 2004, I awoke in the night remembering several fragments of my dreams:

In one fragment, I am looking at the longest ocean pier I have ever seen when all of a sudden, the pier becomes a painting and disappears from view leaving only an unobstructed coastline in its place. Though the coastline is unfamiliar to me, I feel like it is located in the US, in the Carolinas.

In another, I’m sitting at the stern of an old schooner in the midst of several other crew mates. We are out on the water and we are rowing. Judging by our clothing and the age of the boat, I feel like we are in the late 1600’s or early 1700’s. Although I am very comfortable in the water in the real world, in this dream moment, I am very much afraid that I am going to fall in.

In another dream fragment, I’m looking down over an island coastline from a very high bird’s-eye view and I’m slowing scanning the coastline, looking for something. There are several inlets and coves and each one has a name written over it in script (like a map). The names sounds familiar to me as I slowly scan past them, though I can’t figure out from where. Once I reach what I believe to be the north end of the island, I double back and scan the coves again. Interestingly, each name ends with the word “Cay,” (a term I am familiar with from the Bahamas).

In the last fragment, I’m in a bookstore on Wilshire Blvd in Los Angeles, California, that someone has directed me to visit. I am searching through very old leather bound books that appear to be community records. The name on one of the books is Mount Hope, Tennessee, however, I get the feeling it is not the Mount Hope I was hoping to find.

I awaken at this point with all of these images in my head along with the idea of a hunt for buried treasure and a burning desire to know:

Could there really be such a place as Mount Hope, Bahamas?

A 3:30 am search of the internet confirms that Mount Hope, Bahamas is in fact a real place — a small community on an island known as Little Abaco.

Could there really be treasure too?

I go back to bed, feeling somewhat excited, and when I wake up a few hours later, I remember another series of dreams:

I am in the Bahamas and I am flying through the air with balloons attached to my arms and my feet. Somehow, I am able to maneuver quite well — diving and ascending over the water. At one point, I land and am conversing with friends. They all want to return to Canada (where I lived at the time I had this dream in 2004) but I want to stay.

In another moment, I am walking along a wooded path that leads to a clearing. The clearing is surrounded by tall pine trees on all sides. On the ground, suddenly, I am aware of bugs that are scurrying towards me. I can see that they are scorpions and I kick them away but they keep coming. There are so many, it appears as though the ground is moving. And then, something is tickling my back under my clothes. I look up and see that scorpions are falling from the canopy. And that’s when I wake up.

Back to my computer I Google “pine forest Bahamas.” And I get hits.

Apparently, the Bahamas used to be covered with indigenous pine until they were logged in the 1950’s. Now, only two islands remain where pine forests are protected — and one of them is, of course, the Abacos.

I do another Google search, this time for “pirate treasure Bahamas” and get several hits, mostly to do with the storied history of piracy in the Bahamas and specifically mentioning one famous pirate named Captain Henry Morgan who was rumored to have buried treasure in the Bahamas. I also have a feeling, left over from my dream about the Carolina sea pier and the boat rowing that Blackbeard may have some connection with my dreams.

But then reality sinks in.

This is madness, I think to myself.

I am unemployed, living off my credit cards, and somewhat desperate. This has to be subconscious wish fulfillment. Well, because I was feeling doubt, and because I could, I turned to my angels for guidance, and was blessed to receive encouraging words about following my dreams. However, I should also point out that I had recently been burned by promises I had received from spirit, consequently I was wary of my receiving in those days. That said, it should now make sense to you why within a matter of days, all thoughts about pirate treasure and the Bahamas were dropped.

Nearly a year later, in October of 2005, I woke up one morning in a bad mood. I was bored and disappointed with my life.

A few minutes later, standing under a hot shower, I suddenly remembered my pirate treasure dreams and felt a sudden urge to run off to the Bahamas. First, however, I decided I needed to do some research on metal detectors. So, as soon as I dried off from the shower, I went to my computer and powered up.

My home page at the time was the entertainment site “Variety.” Interestingly, when the internet came up, the headline on Variety that morning said “Jolly Roger’s Grand Stand.” I no longer remember what the article was about — something to do with a film personality named Roger, however, of all the times to make a pirate reference!

I intended to Google “Jolly Roger” but instead of hitting the Google tool bar I mistakenly launched a pop-up ad for a Nicholas Cage movie. The advertisement announced, “There is a moment when everything changes.” I couldn’t help but wonder, Was this my moment?

I carried on with my internet research and found a few more interesting tidbits. Of course, the Jolly Roger was the scull and bones pirate flag. But even more interesting, when I entered the date of my original dream,”December 7,” along with the word “Bahamas,” I found out that on December 7, 1971, the Bahamas changed their longstanding coat of arms to a contemporary design — abandoning a slogan that urged the nation to rid themselves of pirates in order to increase trade. The new slogan made no mention of pirates; it simply stated something like “onward and forward,” in a clear attempt to distance itself from the historical black mark of piracy.

Nevertheless, in the end, no matter how hard I tried to get myself to the Bahamas, I never could make it happen. Mostly, I just couldn’t justify spending the kind of money a trip to the Abacos would take as financial hardship continued to plague me throughout the years that followed my dream.

Meanwhile, circumstances developed that led me to move my family from Toronto to Los Angeles in the summer of 2007. (Interesting that my dream had me searching through a book store in Los Angeles years before living in Los Angeles was even a consideration).

Anyway, soon after arriving in Los Angeles, I found out that the prolific author and modern founder of psychic questing, Andrew Collins, was going to be speaking at a Ufology conference in Phoenix. I reached out to him via email and after striking a quick friendship, we made arrangements to meet.

A few weeks later, after making the six hour drive from Los Angeles to Phoenix, Andrew and I had a very pleasant meeting. We talked about several of Andrew’s enthralling experiences with psychic questing and I divulged all the details of my dream. Throughout the meeting, Andrew was most gracious, and responded with nothing but encouragement, and was even open to the possibility of participating. In an effort to find a way to finance what invariably looked to be a costly expedition, we talked about developing a television series about psychic questing which a few weeks later, Andrew helped me to format.

Unfortunately, after working out what we both thought was a commercial concept, I discovered that the exact show had recently been developed by a prominent reality TV producer — and was already in production. So, in spite of the best of intentions, everything I tried to do to get myself to the Abacos failed. And four more years passed.

In late May of 2011, following a lucrative stint of employment, after six long years of waiting, my wife and I decided we could finally afford to make the trip. Because we hadn’t been on a vacation without our children in ten years, it seemed only right to turn it into a treasure hunt as well as a romantic getaway!

Several days later, after a lot of research, the best place I was able to find for us to stay turned out to be a private condo that was situated in the nearest resort community to Mount Hope — a community called Treasure Cay (how appropriate!).

I packed my video camera, my brand new metal detector and the scuba gear I had acquired (after recently becoming licensed along with my 13 year old daughter), and off we went for our five day getaway in the Abacos.

On the first day, after several hours of flying (overnight and into the following day), we arrived late-afternoon, rented a car, drove forty minutes to our accommodations, and had little energy left to do anything else than find ourselves some dinner and call it a night. That night, however, I had an interesting dream:

In the dream, I am standing in a pine forest, looking up into the canopy, where a beautiful parrot welcomes me to the Bahamas.

When I woke up in the morning and remembered this dream, I immediately Googled “parrot Bahamas” and discovered there were indeed wild parrots living in the Abacos. Interesting.

The next day, my wife and I eagerly made the half hour drive up the eastern shore to Mount Hope, however, other than meeting a very nice local man in Mount Hope who made his living taking tourists out on bone fishing expeditions, if there ever was a pine forest on the eastern shore of Mount Hope, it had long been cleared away to make way for the small collection of old weather-beaten homes that now comprised this extremely poor community. I so wished to broach the subject of pirate treasure, however, when the fisherman informed me that the western shore wasn’t developed because the ocean on that side of the island was marshy — in many areas, only between 1 to 4 feet in depth — I felt defeated by the lack of pine forest on the side that my dream had indicated. That, combined with my shock at the severity of the poverty, and my embarrassment about the reason I was there in the first place (and how I had come to obtain my information), I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about pirates. So, my quest ended then and there with the bone fisherman in Mount Hope.

The beach at Treasure Cay.
In the meantime, all was not lost. My wife and I had a wonderful vacation. The weather was sunny and warm the entire week. We had many wonderful meals, and took several romantic walks along the gorgeous three and a half mile white sandy beach in Treasure Cay (which most of the time was completely empty). I even managed to get in two fantastic scuba dives — one that landed me right in the middle of an impressive group of 8 reef sharks, and a pregnant nurse shark. And I got that six year old dream of pirate treasure out of my system. Well, for the time being…

My journey of awakening continues with this post.

(For my previous story, click here.)

The story of my first incredible psychic quest is here.

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