Hey You, Get Off Of My Cloud

I woke up this morning and thought, "Oh dear, I should post a blog today."

Okay, truth time.... I thought about my blog after I shook off this horrible dream I had.

I am still reading the Unlearn Your Pain book and going to therapy. Turns out that there is a lot of crap that I simply internalized. Now, all of it (most of it? some of it? plenty of it?) is dragged out in the open so that I can look at it. Yikes. It is not pretty.

I thought I already tapped out this bad junior high school experience with a teacher. Apparently not. I woke up reliving that experience and then yelling at him about how teachers aren't supposed to bully kids. We got enough bullying from our classmates. And on and on and on. It was ugly. My head pounded with a horrible migraine. You just can't tell me that pain isn't thoughts. It is thoughts. On the plus side, I think it was cathartic, to a degree, to tell him (okay, scream at him) how I really felt about the whole thing. But, it was adult me doing the screaming. Would it have been more healing if it had been kid me? I don't know. The adult in me already knows it was wrong. Bad. Horrible. No teacher should act this way. But, the kid I was didn't SAY anything. Hmm. I guess this is a conversation for the therapist the next time we meet.

Anyway, I didn't really want to blog about my therapy... even though it is eating a lot of my mental and physical energy.

On an unrelated note, I finally finished my rough draft. I know that it needs SO MUCH WORK. But still. It is done. I have something to edit. I can revise something that already exists. I spent all day Sunday walking around and patting myself on the back. It is good to appreciate each accomplishment. 

On another unrelated note... or maybe related to the initial topic of what to blog about... Tara Tyler at Tara Tyler Talks gave me the Liebster Award. I received this award in the past, BUT I stopped keeping up with awards in my sidebar (and am thinking of eliminating them entirely to clean up said sidebar). I lacked material for today, so I decided to answer the questions. I am supposed to thank the person who bestowed the award on me (Thanks Tara!), answer her 10 questions, create 10 questions and pass it on. I am fudging on the last part, but I'm a rebel!

These are Tara's questions:

1) What was your favorite subject in school?
English.

2) Do you believe in love at first sight? (do your characters?)
I believe in Like At First Sight. Sometimes that like leads to love. I believe in meeting someone and feeling like you've known them forever. It has happened to me a handful times in this lifetime. Those connections are very special, whether they turn out to be good friends or SOs.

3) What genre do you write and why?
I write what most would call women's fiction (or just fiction since I have guy reading it who likes it....) with supernatural, mysterious, and romantic elements. Is that a genre???? I chose it because I enjoy reading it. I am currently reading a lot of YA so that I can write it somewhere down the road. I think you have to read A LOT within a genre before you understand it well enough to write it.

4) What advice would you give new writers?
I am a new writer. What advice do you want to give ME????

5) How long have you been blogging and what made you start?
2010. I was so sick in 2010. Migraines took over my life and I felt like I was contributing NOTHING to the world. Blogging was the vehicle I saw to better myself. It started out as the place for self expression to try and understand how I'd landed at this terrible place. It turned into a chronicle of the journey. Now, it's a mish mash of everything.

6) Morning, afternoon, or evening writer?
I tend to read and post blogs in the morning. Then I write. I like to relax in the evenings. Of course, all of that could change soon...

7) What's the hardest part about writing for you?
Do I have to pick JUST ONE thing? Frankly, it is all hard.

8) What movie would you like to be an extra in?
I spent ten minutes thinking about this and have come up with nothing. However, I would have liked to have been an extra for the TV show Moonlighting. I loved that show. Or maybe M*A*S*H. That one was great, too.

9) If you could go anywhere or any when for research, where/when would you go?
Scotland. I find that country fascinating. Pick a time. If I could time travel, I would leap through the centuries to see it all.

10) Did you always want to be a writer?
Yes and no. I always loved writing. Actually, that isn't true. I am like Dorothy Parker. At least, I think it was Dorothy Parker. Anyway, someone said, "I hate writing. I love having written." It's always been like that.

I am going to break the rules and NOT hand this out to specific people. If you are lacking blogging material and want to take a crack at the following ten questions, I would love to read your answers. If not, well that's fine, too:)

These are my questions:

1) Have you ever met someone famous?
2) What concert would you pay a "ridiculous" amount of money to see? The person or band can be dead or alive.
3) What personality trait do you like best about yourself?
4) If you could meet a character in a book, who would you choose?
5) If you won the lottery, how would you spend the money?
6) Do you believe that there is such a thing as "having it all"?
7) Have you ever had a paranormal experience of any kind?
8) What is the most important trait for a person to have in order to achieve success in their life? Job? Relationships? (It can be one trait that ties them all together or separate ones...)
9)  What is holding you back from achieving your dreams?
10) What is your favorite time of day?


Well, this post turned out rather long for someone who had no idea what they would write when the woke up.

Have you ever experienced physical pain from things that happened to you in the past or present? Do you understand the idea that pain is thoughts? Do you celebrate your large and small accomplishments? If you want the award, run with it and make a blog post. If you want to just take a stab at all or some of the questions here... well, I want to read it.

What Do You See?

I just read Chris's post It's Never Too Late to Lose Weight over at A Deliberate Life. I was pondering a comment and decided to forgo that and just write my own post. Funny how those things work. If you would like to read Chris's post, she is in My Favorite Reads (or something like that) in the sidebar to the left. It is a couple days old now, so click on her and not her most current post.

You might be wondering why I read a weight loss blog. You might not. Chris is uber-inspirational to me. I dig in there and figure out how I can apply all that weight loss stuff to life. The thing is that it isn't that hard. Sometimes it is glaringly obvious. Sometimes not so much. Sometimes, like today, it is on the tip of tongue, and I can't quite get a handle on it.

So, I am going to tell you that dream I had a while back about my dad that I promised you in the Thursday post. In my dream, I was in the middle of a large body of water with no land in sight. I had in my hands something that could save me. But the only thing that I had to activate it was a sharp implement and it was very delicate. There were two canisters and a lot of dangerous territory inside this thing. I heard a voice tell me that if the sharp implement punctured anything other than the canisters (which were difficult to reach) I would die. So, I asked what would happen if I didn't mess with the canisters at all? And the answer was that I would die. So, I took a shot and lost. The voice, which I think was God, told me that I had punctured something other than the canisters and I would die.

I asked if I would drown. The voice said that something from the canisters was going to come out, like foam, and consume all of the air space. I would be encapsulated in it. The strange thing is this: when you KNOW you are going to die, that there is no choice, you don't get upset. At least I didn't. My first thought was that I would be with my dad again. And I said that out loud. Then I turned around and there he was. He was young again like when I was a kid.

He said, "You know we're all gonna die someday."

I laughed. He was right, after all. He then said, "It is all about what you do now. Create all you can while you can." He then paused and said, "Do you want to see what I have been working on?"

"Yes," said I with surprise.

He pulled out this piece of wood, circular in shape, one inch thickness, probably 24 square inches give or take. It was gorgeous. He had cut, sanded, stained, finished, and done the artwork on it himself. Yes, there was artwork on it. There were these delicate flowers burnt into the wood and painted all sorts of colors. And they ran around it in a vine pattern. In the middle there was a saying that I wish I could remember. But the essence was not to take yourself too seriously. Have fun with this thing called life.

How does this relate to Chris's post? Well, I am not having any fun. My head is killing me. I know that it is a head game. I know so many things but I am still spinning my wheels. I have had said to mom that I think I need to experience the frustration of the SSD system up close and personal in order to truly be empathetic to all of the people I want to help when the time comes. My experience has been that you aren't nearly as empathetic until it hits you where you live. So, I grit my teeth and barrel through, but there are days I want to just rip my head right off.

And that is the other thing I have learned. This far into the SSD game you can't change doctors. You can add doctors, but you can't change. If you have doctors that support your claim, you can't change. Even if they aren't doing what you would have them do to get you better, you can't change. You need them. I need to understand what these people are up against and the only way is to experience every rotten thing. That is how I will help change it in the future. You can't change what you don't know. If it was smooth sailing for me, I wouldn't get someone else's rocky road through the system.

For everyone who is still reading this blog, thank you. I am going to do my best to write more often. I need to write more often. My hands are giving me problems. So, we shall see. The doctors are thinking maybe RA. I just had some bloodwork done, so I don't know yet. I just know that my joints hurt. Operating the mouse isn't so bad, but typing hurts. You may be getting those shorter posts after all!


image found at www.weheartit.com

DON'T POINT THOSE BULLETS AT ME

Here's the deal:

• I have written numerous blogs in my head, but none have actually made it onto the computer.
• Yeah. That is extremely lame.
• What is even worse is that I actually have stuff to write about and am just not writing.
• On top of that, the stuff is now soooo much that I am saying things like, "I can't write a catch up blog now because it would be too long."
• And then I follow that one up in my head with, "Who really cares anyway?"
• You have maybe six people on here who actually read your posts.
• Besides that, you have been absolutely awful about reading all of your friends' posts.
• Your concentration is keeping pace with a flea.
• And when you do read a post you sit and stare at the computer trying to come up with a comment. Usually you give up because all you can think of is something like, "Great post."
• And that is like giving no comment at all. Egads.
• For the most part, I have spent the better part of my waking time on Facebook doing stuff that requires as little thinking as possible.
• That is the God's honest truth. You did get the part about having the attention span of a flea, right? Facebook is perfect for that.
• However, there has been other stuff going on.
• I can't recall if I told you that I was dreaming about my dad just about every night up until about ten days ago.
• Oddly enough, most of the time, I had no memory recall of what we were doing in the dream. Sometimes, I did. Mostly not.
• The first time I did remember him in my dream, it was a bunch of friends of mine and my dad. My dad was in the middle of two of my friends backup singing and doing dance steps like the Supremes. That couldn't have been more unlike my dad.
• I laughed so hard when I woke up. That told me he was willing to do anything to get into my dreams!
• When I was in elementary school , we lived in what we called the boondocks. It was a very undeveloped area of Florida that still had a lot of woods and snakes and even gators in certain places. Anyway, we had a tiger cat that I named Rowr. Unfortunately, Rowr ate one too many geckos and lost his hearing.
• A gecko's tail is poisonous, but Rowr didn't make that association. Anyway, my parents figured out that Rowr was deaf, but didn't tell my brother and I, and one day we left the back gate open and Rowr got out.
• I remember walking the block calling his name for days. I was devastated. I loved that cat.
• Mom and Dad didn't have the heart to tell me or my brother that he probably got out the gate and was fairly helpless prey out in the woods being deaf.
• About two weeks ago, I am lying in bed one morning wide awake, but not ready to get up. I feel something jump on the bed. My bedroom door is closed and the dogs are not allowed in the bedrooms. Besides, it is too light to be any of our dogs.
• I open my eyes and nothing is there. I close them and it starts pouncing all over my legs. I open them and it stops. I close them to slits and it goes crazy bouncing all over my bed. All around my legs, up around my head, over my stomach, etc. Then it is gone. I think it is over.
• Not. I feel a hard landing. Clearly it jumped from the floor back onto the bed. And the play resumes. I can tell it is a cat by the weight of it. Finally it has enough and jumps off.
• I jump out of bed and go tell my mom.
• We throw around theories and I tell her that I think Dad sent Rowr down so that I would know that he is okay. All cats go to heaven.
• Two days later, I am lying in bed awake and I get another cat visitation.
• I kid you not.
• This time I talk to it through slitted eyes. Every time I fully open my eyes it stops playing. It is like it is playing hide and go seek or something. Moving on...
• I call it by name (Rowr) and thank it for coming to play with me and let me know it is okay. Then I thank my dad for sending Rowr down for a visit. It is a relief to know that he is with dad in heaven.
• Since then, no more morning cat visitations.
• However, my dad's mom (Nanny) came to call and she came in a BIG way. Her signature sign is her perfume and she about knocked me out.
• I was playing around on Facebook. I did mention that I have been doing that, right?
• And she BLASTED me with her perfume. In the past, she has come by softer. This time she wanted my FULL attention and she got it. Actually, I think she wanted me to know on previous visits that she was okay and watching over me.
• This time, I think she was letting me know that I wasn't going to be hearing from dad for a while, but she was with him and he was okay. She had him and all was well. And I told her out loud that I got the message.
• And then when I got my head screwed on straight, I started screaming for my mom to come to my room RIGHT NOW. She did (griping that she was in the middle of something).
• I said, "Stop. Can you smell that?"
• She backed up. She got this look on her face and went "Woah. Nanny's perfume."
• So, since dad has died, he has visited, Nanny has visited, and my cat that died in the 70s has visited.
• Makes you wonder who will be next...
• I actually have more to report, but I will save it for my next post. This is long enough already. I am afraid I lost some of you back on bullet point #5.

We interrupt this blog

because today's letter would be redundant. Day 13 is who do you want to forgive you. I have put a great deal of thought into this one. There are a few people out there harboring grudges, but most of those people, in my opinion, don't have anything to be angry about. Or they may already be over it and just don't want to be friends. If that is the case, I share the sentiment. They were not good to me and I don't need them in my life. I don't wish them ill; mostly I don't think about them at all. In fact, pretty much not at all until I was looking into every corner of my brain to find someone for this letter.


The only person that I really feel like this could possibly apply to is my friend Jennifer from college. In fact, I wrote her a fairly lengthy letter last fall (4 pages) and made her a mix CD. The letter still sits on my bureau and the mix CD is in my travel bag. I love it. I know that there is something wrong with that picture. I have mentally skated around this one for about a year now, and I have come to understand that this is where this relationship was going to end no matter what. I feel really badly about bailing on her when I did, but I realize that I was going to bail. I have called and left messages on her phone four or five times, and she's not returning my calls, so.... I would venture to say that she is done. And she is still involved with the abusive boyfriend. That would mean that since 1993 she has chained herself to abusive men. How long can a person watch that and hear about it before they have to walk away? When you love someone, their hurt is your hurt, and it would have been daggers into my soul. Being with my ex for three years darn near sent me to the grave. Three years. I don't know how she is still standing. And she doesn't want help. So, there is no letter here that would fix anything. What would I say? I am sorry I left when I did, however it was going to happen eventually, but call me when you break up with your abuser? That would just piss her off. So, it is what it is. We will just stick with it where it is. I miss her. The old her. A person that probably doesn't exist anymore because her spirit has been crushed into something unrecognizable. Moving on...

Carol the Gardener said she missed my regular posts. The letters were nice and all, but she preferred the way my blog used to roll... or something like that. The way my blog used to roll was anything goes, for those of you who are new. Anything can happen and sometimes did! Mostly it was me just spewing out whatever was on my mind that day. That week. That month. Before I got into the letter thing, I was doing some actual BlogTherapy on myself. For Real. When I called this blog, Blog Therapy I was talking more about just being able to speak freely. Well, as it turned out, it became actual Therapy. And all of you became the Therapists. Very.Big.Important.Job. The letters went hand in hand with it, which is why I took them on. Don't know if I have shared that I have cried through the writing of most of them. Not all, but most. So, I think it's working.


On occasion, I have shared my dreams here. Well, I had this dream a couple of nights ago and I have been DYING to tell you guys about it. But there was Song Saturday and the letter yesterday and no one reads blogs on the weekends. So, finally my opportunity has arrived. *sigh* Taking a deep breath. Letting it out. Unlike some people, I have fairly vivid dreams. The last thing that happens, as you might imagine, I remember best. The further back I go, the less details I can remember. This one was so intriguing that I jumped carefully got out of bed, and dragged myself into my parents' office. Of course, they had been awake for hours. I had to tell them about this dream. I should have gone back to my room and written it down in my dream journal ~ pronto ~ but I was tired and went back to bad. Mental head smack! Okay, here it is...

Back up. Do you remember my dream about my h.s. friend who was on fire? If not, you can read that one here. He was in this dream, too. Not so surprising this time. I had sent him an email about My Idea, so he was on my mind. When I told him about the fire dream, he told me he had a dream about a group of friends (me included) going to college together. For the record, none of us went to college together. Moving forward again.


Scene 1 My high school drama teacher, MKB, and I are poring over my schedule for my freshman year of college. I am having difficulty with it. In this scenario, I am majoring in theatre instead of music (something I now wish I had done), and am trying to find a way to balance out my core classes and my theatre classes. One of the problems is the Intro to Theatre class. MKB is teaching theatre at my college. As I get frustrated with it, she tells me to skip it. She will sign off on it. I don't need that class. Just take the next required class b/c that is really where I should be starting anyway. Now my schedule works out. *More importantly, MKB was the first person who overtly believed in me in high school. I owe her a great deal because she changed my life. Because she believed in me, I believed in me, too.


Scene 2 Still in college, but at a council meeting of some kind. I am not on the council, but I am watching. One of my friends from hs is on the council. He is a person who frustrates me now on facebook. I have seen him be very argumentative with other people from hs in their status boxes when they don't share his opinion. He can get pretty ugly about it. He considers himself to be a Christian, but he is very political and in your face about the whole thing. However, he has sent me email saying things like he doesn't understand why people don't want to be his friend. He thinks he is respectful of other people's views, but others are not respectful of his. I believe that he believes what he is saying. He is very blind to his own actions. I suggested that he stop talking about religion and politics since they are hot topics. He might be greeted with more friendliness. In this meeting, every time another council person says something to which he objects, he mutters loudly something to the effect that it is crap. BS, that person can't think straight. And on and on and on. *It was another reminder that people's views on religion and politics are pretty well set in stone. Trying to change them is a waste of time. Arguing about them doesn't do anything but isolate you. The worst thing you can do to get someone to consider your opinion on anything is to be disrespectful of theirs.

Scene 3 MKB, The Burning Man, and I are sitting in the hall at college. This wasn't my college or high school campus. It reminds me now of the high school where Rory Gilmore went on Gilmore Girls. It was grandiose. Big staircase and marble floors. MKB was doing most of the talking. She was saying how sad it was that every time she turned around that the buildings were getting closer and closer. She directed our attention to the closest window and indicated that there was no view. All you could see was another building.


We were then outside and she pointed to Something in the sky and said how much she liked looking at it. She then pointed to a park bench and said that she used to spend hours on that park bench enjoying that view. We all walked to the park bench. A building had been put up between the Something and the park bench. She couldn't see it anymore from the bench. She asked us what a person should do in that situation. I don't know remember if it was The Burning Man or me, but someone suggested finding another park bench that still had a view of the Something. That was the right answer. *This was about overcoming problems. I think she was saying that into every life problems are going to fall. Or happen. And it is ongoing. The people who succeed are the people who are problem solvers. You have to get creative. You can sit on the park bench and bemoan your lack of the view that you used to have OR you can find another park bench. It is as simple and as difficult as that. The next park bench won't be as familiar to you or as lovely. It won't have the memories that the old one had. Yeah, that sucks. So, you have to choose. What is more important? Was it the bench you loved or the view? You don't always have to choose one or the other. In some cases, you can have both. The bench or the view. You just don't get them simultaneously anymore.


Scene 4 The first part of this is just me at some kind of function where there is a bunch of food laid out. Make that desserts. I am not a sweets eater. I pretty much always take a pass on dessert. Or I will eat a little something. In this case, it all looked wonderful. So good that I had two plates full of nothing but desserts. I topped the last one off with donuts. When I dream about donuts, I know what is happening. *For me, dreaming about sweets means that I am STRESSED OUT. I only crave sweet stuff when my adrenal gland is getting really blasted my brain for cortisol (the stress hormone). Of course, my adrenal gland really doesn't work anymore, so it is borrowing from my other hormones, making my hormonal imbalance worse, making my migraines worse, making my pain worse, making my stress worse, making the circle of pain worse. When I dream about sweets and donuts, I am STRESSED TO THE MAX. That is a sign to me that I must do WHATEVER IT TAKES to bring me back down to earth.


Scene 4 Cont. After I walked me and my two plates of desserts over to a chair. Why don't they have tables at events like these? How am I going to eat all of this crap when there is no table? I sit my plates on the floor. They never did get touched by my lips, btw. As soon as I sat down, I got really cold. So cold, that from out of nowhere I produced a blanket and wrapped myself in it. Sort of like one those things you put a mental patient in. My mind is gone and I can't think of the word. Anyway, turns out that what we were there for was a magic show. Yay. The Burning Man was the magician. He was producing balls of light out of nowhere and people were catching them and holding them in their hands. They were beautiful. He sent one my way, but I couldn't catch it, because I was all tied up in my blanket. So, it hit my shoulder and rolled off. At that point, I started struggling to free myself from the blanket. Finally, I was rid of the blanket. He sent another ball my way and I was able to catch it. Of course, when I caught it, I understood that it wasn't real. It was an illusion. It had no substance to it. *Of course, there is the message that magic is an illusion. Always was, always will be. What was important here is that you can't catch any of the good things life sends your way if you are all bound up. You have to have your hand stretched out wide open in order to get the good stuff. I think it was more about playing it safe versus taking chances. You can play it safe and stay huddled in your blanket. Or you can live wide, with your hands held out, ready to grab hold of everything beautiful heading your way.


Naturally, I am open to your interpretation of my dream. Or just your thoughts on whatever. I love your comments.


images found at www.weheartit.com

DAY 5: YOUR DREAMS

Dear Me,

I am writing you this letter because your dreams may not come to fruition as quickly as you want them to, and you may need some inspiration to not let go of them and give up. You already did that once and the only thing that stopped you from moving in another direction was your mattress pulled out of storage. Such a small thing that created this huge medical setback. You spent nearly a year very angry about that setback. It wasn't until recently that it clicked in your head that the mattress put you back on course with your dreams. You wrote about that here.

Ever since you wrote that down, the dream has become clearer and clearer. Back in 2008, you had a logo that popped into your head, knew that it involved a website, and the goal was to help sick people who could no longer help themselves. They, like you, had run the doctor circuit for years and gotten nowhere. And they fell through the floor. Not because they were lazy or didn't try hard enough. They probably started out working. They had insurance and they got sicker and sicker. Eventually they couldn't work and their savings started going into doctors. Still, no one could help. Back then, you knew who you wanted to help. You just weren't exactly sure how. Worse yet, you knew it was likely going to be a non-profit organization that you were going to be founding (and you know nothing about how to do that) and creating a website (you can barely navigate this site).

So, when the dream popped out of the woodwork to smack you upside the head about ten days ago, it also brought clarity with it. You now know the name of the non-profit (assuming it isn't taken already), exactly what you want on the site, and the next two stages, after the site is up and running, and able to support itself. Now, you spend a bit of every day visualizing the site as it will be once it is fully functional.

I am writing you this letter because I know you. You have an idea and you want it now. Well, this isn't going to happen now. This is likely years away from fruition. And there will be people who will tell you that it just isn't realistic. Once you get well, you would be better off getting a sales job, which you know you are good at. That is true. I am good at a sales job and it would support me. But this dream will change the lives of hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. Is me taking the easy way and getting a sales job right when I know that I have been called to do this?

Even this... Blogger... you thought it was for your writing. When you first opened this account you had this crazy idea that an agent was going to read your writing and decide that you should be published. Don't you find that ludicrous now? Then you enjoyed reading other people's blogs as much as your own. It is like a community of friends with whom everyone shares their stuff. Whatever they want to share. Now, you see that even Blogger wasn't an accident.

This dream is all part of a Grand Design to make the world better. All you are is the catalyst. You thought that you were going to have to take college computer classes to do the website. That would have been you trying to do it all for quite a while. Now, you think you were meant to meet someone here who would do the computer design, because you are just never going to be good at that, and you will be partners in this venture. It will be your idea, but the work you will do together. You will be doing all of the calling and running stuff down for the site. And you will be sending out requests for information to your blog friends, like a net. And they will throw that net further. And this site that you thought would take a year to get off the ground... won't. Oh, and your Greek friend will make it possible for you to talk to someone about non-profits before you start this, so that you are able to set up this whole thing. Otherwise, you would be lost in that sea for a long time.

Your dreams are going to intertwine with the dreams of people you already know in person, and some that you have met here. This whole process has been like a chain bringing people together for good. Everything has a reason. With some of your friends, you can already see some sort of promise of what that reason might be. How they might fit into this, if they want to be a part of it. For others, maybe they will know someone who is ill and just needs help. It might be as simple as that. And as rewarding.

Don't give up on your dreams. They will happen when they are meant to happen. Continue to focus on your dream and visualize it so that it gains clarity.

Love,
Me


image nabbed from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos

I'VE GOT THIS FEELING

For those of you who read my 15 minute ramble writing exercise yesterday know that a lot of my ups and downs here lately have been not of my own making. I didn't quite get around to saying that the doctors are trying to regulate my meds to get me back to my previous state of normal, whatever that was. Ha ha. I appreciate all of the encouraging comments on yesterday's blog. So, thank you. Hugs and kisses to all who showed the love.


While I have been on this up and down crazy ride, I remembered something that I forgot. It actually was part of the prompter for one of my eight questions. BTW, I have another eight questions to answer and then another eight to think up and pass along. So, if you didn't get tagged that first time, and are feeling all sad and left out, chances are possible that you will get it this time. I am feeling myself diverting off my track. Anyway, when I was living in Florida, I went through a period of looking inward, and really wondering why I had gone through all of the crap that had blown my way. I am a big believer in everything happening for a reason and I just couldn't figure out what possible reason could be out there for all of this pain and suffering. Keep in mind, I was still in the midst of the pain and suffering. I was considerably better, but by no one's yardstick 100%. I was still dealing with migraines daily; the only difference was that the severity of the migraine was less than it is now.

Anyway, all of this was weighing heavy on my mind. One morning when I was not really asleep, but not really awake. This is what happened. I wrote it down when I woke up because I didn't want to forget it.

Sometime between sleeping and being fully awake this morning, I had this awareness hit me. I am not going to say that God was talking directly to me. It was more just this knowing and I could hear the words but it was more like they were coming from inside me to me (if that makes sense). And it went something like this... all of this that you have been through has been to prepare you for what it is to come. It is something much bigger than you have been expecting and are even prepared for right now. It is bigger than you. It will ultimately involve many people, some whom you already know and some that you don't. These people will ultimately be your closest friends and greatest allies as you seek to make this world a better place. Your combined focus and purpose will help so many. You will need doctors and teachers and people will various other skills and talents to do this great work. It is in this project that your life choices will have new meaning and all of the seemingly bad stuff will make sense. You couldn't do this work as well if not for those experiences that you resent in your past. It is in this work that you will be plugged in to your true self. You will be vibrating at a frequency that will bring joy into your life and you will feel more connected to God and the world than you have ever been. It is time to let go of all the things that are stressing you out and keeping you in a place of resistance. These things are not allowing you to get well. You will need this time of euphoria in order to be ready for your work when it comes to you.


That was on December 3, 2008. I thought about that for a long time. The more I thought about it, the more I had this vague knowing of what I was supposed to be doing. Of course, I didn't have some of the skill sets I needed to do that needed to be done. And some I did. And then my parents started talking about moving back to Georgia. I got a call out of the blue from a sales company that had been a competitor from the company I used to work for interested in hiring me, and I thought that was a sign. It was a sign that I was supposed to go back into sales. So, I let go of this burgeoning idea. We moved to Georgia, I talked to the sales guy, we moved the mattress into my room, I got really sick, my immune system blew up, and I now have even more health problems than I had back in 2006, when I thought I was as sick as I could possibly get.

Yesterday, I was doing some thinking and I got smacked really hard in the head by that Idea. That Idea that I felt like I was being told I was supposed to be doing on that December day in 2008. It occurred to me that if I am meant to do that The Universe is going to keep throwing up walls to prevent me from doing other things until I accept that is what I am supposed to be doing. In other words, if I decide that I am going to take a sales job, I might get hit by a car and put into traction until that job opportunity no longer exists. Last time I got a mildewy mattress. It reminded me how important The Idea was and that I really needed to pursue it.


I picture the life path sometimes like a literal path. We have specific markers that we have to get to in our journey. They are must-dos. We can venture off the path and take some scenic routes. We can learn some stuff, for good and ill, but when we get done with that, we end up right where stepped off, and then continue forward. It's like getting off the interstate and getting onto frontage road. You can ride all around the town. But, eventually, you get back on the interstate at the very same exit you got off. You can learn all kinds of interesting stuff about yourself by spending time in that town. You can hang out there for years even, but the truth of the matter is that you really weren't meant to get off at that exit at all. You know that when you get back on the interstate. You can be mad as hell that you got off the interstate at all or you can chalk it up as a learning experience.

You're probably wondering what is this thing that I see myself doing. Or maybe your eyes have glazed over and you don't care anymore. I see it starting out as a website. That is funny because I have no idea how to create and/or maintain a website. I can barely navigate this dumb site. So, that is the skill set I was referring to. I am going to have to learn how to do it. In fact, I am going to have to learn how to do lots of stuff. I think that will be the hardest, but I don't know. The thing is that I can see it in my head, I can feel it in my bones, and it sounds crazy.


This site is for sick people, like me, and other kinds of sick people. Ideally, I will have a list of doctors all over who listen. Doctors in every speciality. Doctors who listen and think outside the box. Doctors who don't just treat symptoms, but care about getting to the root of the problem. Doctors who are committed. Doctors who will at some point when this gets big enough either work pro bono or through my site. And the site will be funded by donations. Who will be donating? Lots of people. It is going to start out by people getting well through the site. A family member finding a doctor. And maybe they have a sibling who owns a fancy hotel. They offer to do a fundraising event free. You'll find this hard to believe, but I am actually a good public speaker. And before this is done I am going to be doing public speaking to the rich, famous, and wealthy. And they are going to fund this site. Because the site isn't enough.


We are going to start building homes all across the country for people who have lost everything, and are too sick to work, and they don't have parents, like me, to take them in. And the doctors are going to work pro bono, and we are going to find someone to help them get a job afterward. And that guy who has the funny hair and the crazy energy is going to help us build some of our houses. And every time we build, famous people are going to come out with hammers and nails. Or maybe it will be on the HGTV lineup. And because of that, more money and support is going to come in, and it is going to start changing people's lives. And people are going to pay money to be listed as sponsors on the site. As will businesses. And we are going to really make a difference and help people.

You might be thinking that I am crazy and that it is just the mania. I would agree with you if I haven't been thinking about this since 2008. This is what I saw in my head when I woke up back in 2008. I could see myself working on this website, making the speeches, the need for the houses. I could see it all. I just let it go when something more practical came along. And then I let that go when I got really sick and couldn't do it. And now I am standing in the same place on the path where I was before. I read recently somewhere, "Love with an open hand and hope."


all images found at www.weheartit.com

IT'S JUST A DREAM, JUST A DREAM

I would have posted this yesterday, but it was Thursday, and I had other plans for that day. Anyway, I have got a story for you guys that I think is going to knock your socks off, blow your skirt up, throw you for a loop. Whatever. I am telling you: this one is a freaking doozy. I woke up Wednesday morning just trying to wrap my brain around this dream I just had. I know that most of the time dreams are us trying to work out our problems in our subconscious. However, this one did not feel like that. One of the reasons is because the main person in the dream is someone that I reconnected with on facebook about a year and a half ago. We did the FB thing. A few emails when you first reconnect, then comments on pictures, he occasionally comments on my blog, but mostly nada. Meaning he is not in my conscious mind at all. So, I decided to send him an email. Yeah, it bugged me that much. Here is the email I sent to him:

Hey, I know it’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me. And this email is going to be weird. So, take a moment to buckle your seat belt. I’m going to skip the pleasantries and go straight to the weird. I know, that is so unlike me.

So, here it is. I had this dream last night and you were in it. That is a first. It is a double weird because you have not been in my conscious mind at all lately. It isn’t like we have been talking on email or I have been posting blogs and you have been leaving comments. In other words, there is no good reason for you to be in my subconscious mind.

Moving on to the dream itself… you know I can’t remember anything that was actually happening in the dream because what was going on with you was very intense. You were on fire. However, I could talk to you and you could talk back. It hurt but you wouldn’t let me put it out. You kept saying that you could handle it. The flames came right up to your shoulders. And I kept saying that I really thought you should either stop, drop, and roll, or let me pour some water on you. It went on like that for a long time. There were other people in this dream that we both knew, but I can’t remember now who they were. They weren’t real happy with you being on fire, either. But, they had other things to do and kept leaving. I was the only who stayed and watched and/or discussed putting the fire out. Finally, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. That was a HUGE RELIEF moment for me. I can’t imagine what it was for you. And you did the stop, drop, roll thing and I grabbed a towel or some other cloth and patted you down where you were still flaming.

After you were finally fire-free, the only place that you were burnt was your chest. You couldn’t tolerate wearing a shirt. You had a terrible burn on your chest (so I could totally get the not wearing a shirt thing because that would really hurt).


And then I woke up. I thought about that dream for a long time after as I lie in bed. It was weird. Who wouldn’t think about it? I have to say that you are the first person on fire that I have ever dreamt about. The fact that the burn was isolated to the chest said to me (upon waking) that it was a heart wound. It was a burn on the inside that showed on the outside, but really could only be on the inside. The odd thing is why YOU were the burning man. You haven’t done or said anything to suggest to me that you have any heart wounds or are anything less than happy in all aspects of your life.

My cousin is psychic. Or to a degree anyway. Her channel is more open than a lot of people’s. She didn’t want to be psychic and went through a period of getting terrible headaches (migraines) until she accepted them. I have never considered myself to be psychic. I have become more intuitive as I have gotten older, but not psychic. However, if my stupid old channel is trying to open and I am resisting and it is giving me migraines, well that is unacceptable. I will let it open. No more migraines, thank you very much. I have plenty already.

I only told you the last because I want you to understand that I am not being nosy. However, if you read this and you can see yourself as the burning man in my dream… meaning it resonated for in some aspect of your life, please say so. If you read this and you think, well that is so not anywhere close to me or what is going on with me, well say that, too. I am just trying to figure this one out.

This is what he sent back:

Um, whoa.

Okay, let me respond on a couple of fronts. First, I am generally a pretty happy guy. My marriage is, by all accounts, really solid, I have a great relationship with my two kids. Things are good, and relative to a lot of folks, I think my heart is in a pretty good place.


But there's a second point. I haven't spoken to my dad in nearly two years. It's a long (really long) story, but suffice it to say that our relationship has been damaged to the point that it is nearly irreparable. He cheated on my mom with a younger woman, and then left her to marry said mistress. But that's something that I can get over. The problem is that in the ensuing years, he and his new wife have turned into these incredibly mean, self-centered, narcissistic, materialistic people. There are countless stories I could tell. They are truly toxic. She has two children by a prior marriage, and hasn't spoken to either of them in years.

Well, about two years ago, the two of them sat down and wrote this incredibly ridiculous letter to all four of their children (my brother and I, as well as her two kids), essentially disowning us. None of us have spoken to them since. I've made peace with the situation, and feel that it is best for my two sons that they have no relationship with them (they did some horribly mean things to their various grandkids over the years).

Well, my brother finally broke down the barrier and invited them down for a visit. On the last day of their trip (yesterday), he confronted them on a lot of the crap that has been pulled over the years. So yesterday evening, I spent several hours on the phone talking with my brother (and my wife) about the outcome of that conversation, and struggling with the question of whether I want or will seek to have any relationship with my father. He is 72, and given our family's health, probably doesn't have a ton of time left. I'm horribly conflicted.

So while I wouldn't describe myself as suffering from any sort of severe emotional distress, there is no question that, last night, I struggled with personal and emotional conflict more than any other day in the past 18 months.

Make of that what you will.


So, I am asking you unbiased people out there in blogland: what do you make of this? Do you think that my dream about my friend being on fire was representational of the emotional conflict he was feeling that night? Even though he says that his father is toxic and he has made peace with that, in my dream it was very clear that his heart was hurting. Do you think he really has made peace with that, and my dream and his situation are unrelated? Or do you think that I had the dream so that I would send him the email, so that he would realize that his heart is hurting? Do you think that sometimes we live in denial because if we acknowledge the truth it is just too damn painful? So, are the dream and my friend connected or was it just a random coinkydinky (coincidence)?


all images found at www.photobucket.com

I READ ABOUT THIS BOY WHO IS GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD

It is 6:30 and I am just starting my post. I thought about not posting at all today. Misery made a strong point about blogging every day interfering with the progress on my novel. However, I did make some headway on that yesterday. Today, I would like to blow some smoke about my time being spent on novel writing, but that would be a lie. It was actually spent on novel reading. Yep. I caved in to the lure of a novel calling my name. And it was soooo good for me. Actually, I have read more novels in the last two weeks than I have since I started my writing. I thought it would interfere with my "process," so I quit reading. I think ~ now ~ that was an idiotic decision. The best way to learn what makes a good novel is to read one. And not to read just for the pure deliciousness of the read, but mentally taking notes of why it is good. Why is it working? How is the writer achieving "goal" with the storytelling?

I swear sometimes that I think I am the most retarded person I know. That implies that I know myself in the third person or something. Whatever. There are some things that I know instinctively and other things that I seem to always discover the hard way. Or by luck. If you read Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series, I find good writing ideas the way she catches her FTAs. In other words, she gets there in the end, but my God, what a horror show.



Well, I only intended to blab on for a sentence or two about what I've been doing with my waking hours these last few days. It just got away from me. Shocking, I know.

What I meant to blog about was the kids. That would be C-Man and H-Girl. For those of you not up to speed, they are not my kids. They are my ex-husband's kids. However, they are as close to kids as I will ever get, so I do try and maintain some form of contact with them. Ironically, I talked to them more when I was in Florida than I do now. I think I spent more time with them then, too. They would come down for a week at a time on holidays and during the summer, etc. Since I have been back here, I have felt so lousy that I have barely seen them. We talk some. And that is where I was going with this post....

I thought of it when I read this post. It was a truly lovely post about mothers and daughters. Of course, in this case, all mothers and daughters are grown-ups, and in that stage where you are now able to be friends.

I called the kids' cell, which is primarily H-Girls, about a week ago. C-Man answered it and we had a really nice conversation. However, this is not unusual. C-Man has not been problematic. He and I talk easily. That boggles me a bit because when they were little it was the other way around. C-Man was the one who constantly gave me grief and H-Girl was the one who wanted to spend time with me. She was the one who was no trouble. Well.... we had been talking for quite a while, when H-Girl yells from her room that C-Man needs to get off the phone, b/c he is using up her minutes. I knew that they were at my former mother-in-law's house, and I would have called on her landline, except the last time I did that I was told to call on the cell, because I was in their Top 5Faves, so I didn't use their minutes. I asked C-Man to ask H-Girl if I was in the Top 5 Faves (of course, I can hear everything).

The answer: Not anymore. I was removed to make room for one of her friends. Uggghhh. So, I told C-Man that I would call him on the landline and hung up. I did and we talked some more. I then talked to H-Girl for about 5 minutes. She couldn't think of more than 5 minutes worth of talking points before handing me back to her brother. Again....UGGGGHHH.

This was a Saturday night and they do go to church in the morning. (This is to prepare you for what is about to happen, but what has not yet happened.) C-Man asks me if I remember this dream that I had about him back when we lived in the old house. I remember it vividly. I am surprised that he remembers it at all. However, C-Man surprised me then with the things that he was paying attention to that I said (when I thought he was totally ignoring me) and continues to surprise me now.

For some of you this dream is going to have you thinking that I have lost my mind. That is okay. I think so too, some days. But not because of this dream. Others of you are going to think that... You know what? Just go with it. Open your mind to the world of possibility and the fact that we don't know it all and go with it.

Now, there is what I know to be true and what I told to C-Man. Those are two different things. Sometimes you have to go with that, too.


What I know to be true:

I was astrally projecting. We do that quite frequently when we dream. I was on The Other Side. Also known as Heaven. We go there quite often because it is Home. I was in The Hall of Records. We go there quite frequently, too, to check out our life path and the life path of people in our lives. I was looking at C-Man's lifepath in the record book. I think it must have been the first time I had done this. His lifepath was Important. Big. I read it and felt this weight of responsibility. This kid had to be okay because what he was supposed to contribute to the world was Bigger.Than.All.Of.Us. When I woke up, I couldn't remember the details. I didn't know what IT was. I remembered standing in the Hall of Records. I could see myself turning the pages. I could even see finding his name. But the actual information that came after...gone. All I had was the knowing. The certainty. The feeling that I had when I read it.


What I Told Him Then:

I don't know. I probably stuck to the basics of the dream. Left out words like astrally projecting, Other Side, Hall of Records, but kept the rest in. I probably told him at a time when I felt like he needed to hear it.


What I Told Him Sat Night:

Pretty much the same thing leaving out the same words as before. We were halfway through it when his grandma started hollering that he needed to get off the phone NOW. (He had church in the morning and he needed to take a shower and get ready for bed, etc.) Of course, he needed to hear the rest, so I told it. He got in trouble (I'm sure) for it. If it were me, I'd take a scolding to know what was underneath my name in The Book if it says that I am going to do something so important that it changes the world for the better. Yep, scold away.

WHERE DREAMS STOP AND REALITY BEGINS

I have posted about dreams before. This isn't new territory. In fact, I wrote a two part blog on this dream. If you missed it you can click here and here to catch up. I guess what I am trying to say is that I think dreams mean something.

A lot of the time, we work out our problems in our dreams. A friend of mine wrote a blog about that yesterday. She has basically the same dream (in differing variations) many nights. Subconsciously, she is trying to change an outcome on something that happened a long time ago. Obviously, this something was traumatic and the outcome cannot be changed. I know that when I am particularly worried or anxious about someone or something, it will manifest itself in my dreams.

The dreams I blogged about and linked to above are not those kind of dreams.


After I broke up with My First Love (MFL), I don't remember dreaming about him much at all. It was years before I had a dream about him. I only remember the dream because he was never in my dreams. The only part I remember is that we were on a cruise ship. I ran into him and his wife (I didn't know he was married in "real life"). I asked him if he was happy and he said that he was. I could tell that he meant it. And that was it. I woke up feeling really good about him (them) and how things worked out.

After my divorce, my ex was still yanking my chain a lot by using his kids. I had this dream and I actually thought to WRITE IT DOWN afterwards. The date was 7/18/05.

"I don't usually document my dreams and this isn't a dream journal, but I have been struggling with my role in C-Man and H-Girl's life. I had a disturbing dream and here it is:

It started with me alone in an open rolling field on a sunny day. I was joined by an Indian woman in full dress (my first thought: white slavery). I am such an optimist. Anyway, she ignored me thoroughly, despite my best attempts to solicit conversation. Soon we were joined by other women of all races and nationalities, which eased my mind some, though none were inclined to talk to me. Finally, one of the younger Indian women shyly said that, "You have to be 19 to get in here. Everyone here has a talent that they are hoping gets noticed and appreciated."

Well, that explained why everyone but ME was there. What talent did I have??? I was completely stymied. Meanwhile, the "show" began with two women coming forth. One grabbed hold of the other's legs and ran with her until she flew. I definitely couldn't fly. I didn't belong here. Then a multi-generational act followed. Mom, daughter, and baby. At some point during their acrobatics, the grandma hurt her ankle, and it was then that the grass started shifting, and the sand started blowing; I could see underneath the dirt. We were on a graveyard. There were skeletons down there. I started asking everyone if they couldn't see that.

That was when The Announcer said, "It looks like someone found her gift for seeing things as they are."

Suddenly, J-Man (my ex's oldest kid), C-Man, and H-Girl were there in a wagon, but there was no bottom. There were rails for them to sit on. They attached me to the back and then pushed the wagon so that it ran down the hill with me being dragged behind it. We went over sidewalk, gravel, grass ~ all at a very high rate of speed. Very painful for me. The kids were loving it. They were having lots of fun. I was getting beaten all to hell. All the while, realization was dawning all over the place, and I knew with absolute certainty, if I didn't figure out a way to detach myself from that wagon I would die. I tried throwing myself, but the momentum of the wagon, combined with the weight, was too great. Ultimately, I discovered that there was a small Release Button; I just had to push it.

When I did, the kids really picked up speed. I was lying there bleeding, bloody head to toe, and I could hear them screaming, so I stood up and just kept yelling, "Put your feet down." They finally did before they hit the bottom. And then I fell back down onto the ground."

*Dream Over*

I am not sharing this dream because I need any help with the interpretation. I got it. Did I use what I had when I needed to? Nope. Did I understand it at the time? Yep. In real life, if the kids won't put their feet down, no matter how many times you tell them that is what they have to do, then you can't hit the Release Button. I had to move to a different state. That was the only way I could hit the Release Button. That isn't the reason I moved, but it turned out to be one of the side benefits. Anyway, this is my ancient history and there is now enough time and distance that it isn't even an issue in my present.



So, why did I write this post? Dreams. I am not remembering my current dreams as vividly as that one. But certain people are making regular appearances in my dreams, and I know it is significant. I used to pray that Right Guy would show up in my dreams for years after he disappeared out of my real life and.. No Dice. Now, he is playing a leading role in my dreams. What is up with that? One of my best friends (someone that Kristin would call an L3) is also headlining these days. I should say former best friend because that relationship is pretty well wrecked. You can read about that here. Do you ever wish you could do your whole life differently? Right now ~ right in this moment ~ all I can see is the destruction. I lit the match and set my house on fire.




Before I forget, Simon, over at Constant Revisions, is doing some book giveaways. I always enjoy reading his blog. He is funny, cynical, and his blog usually mentions alcohol. Since I had to give that up for the migraines, I drink vicariously through him. Somehow that works for me. I really need a drink today. I may have to visit his page a couple of times to get good and drunk. Cheers!

all photos found at www.weheartit

WAS IT JUST A DREAM? PART 2

Well, I made it to my vacation destination. Turns out that their Internet service is down and I am having to sit at the local McDonald's (uggh). I am hoping that the techie people resolve this issue soon. So, Your Daily Dose might not be quite so daily until they get this worked out..

I know that you’re just dying to know the end of the Was It Just a Dream? Blog that I started a few days ago! I say that somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I hope that you’re a bit curious…

You will get your answer the best that I know it today. In order to tell you that story, I have to at least reference several others. And they are all very interesting stand-alone stories on their own. None of them are mine. One of them I don’t understand. One of them I would love to tell, and I might try, but I know that I won’t be able to tell it as well as my cousin, because I wasn’t there. I won’t do the story justice. Actually, all of these stories are kind of a mystery to me. With that in mind, here we go…

In May of 2008, my grandma died. My mom’s mom. She had Alzheimer’s and been “gone” for a long time. Her body finally left in May of 2008.

My dad’s mom, nanny, had died about ten years earlier. Her death caused this ripple effect in my family on my father’s side. (This is the part of the story that I don’t understand.) There was something that happened between my dad and my aunt that caused them both to be equally angry at one another. After nanny passed, that was it. My dad pretty much wrote off his sister and all of her family. Period. He remained close to his half-brother (they shared the same father), but everyone else other than my brother and I, were written off. That was hard for me, because I was pretty much always living out-of-state, so whenever I got vacation time it was difficult fitting everyone in. I had my mom’s family in the Akron area, my dad and brother in the Columbus area, and my dad’s family in the Athens area. However, with my dad not seeing his Athens relatives anymore, that made it difficult on me.

I kept in touch (loosely) with one of my cousins via email and got the “big” news from Athens. For instance, back in 2000, her husband was diagnosed with cancer. It had spread to his lymph nodes. I remember that being one of the few times at church that when asked for prayer requests I had one. He went into remission and survived that. I remember thinking what a miracle that was. I didn’t know much about cancer, but I thought that when it was in your lymph nodes, it was bad. His cancer came back in 2007 with a vengeance. I remember getting frequent emails this time with updates. He also passed in May of 2008 after fighting a fierce battle with cancer.

So, in May 2008, I missed my cousin’s husband funeral, but I went to my grandma’s funeral. However, I hadn’t seen my cousin in a LONG time. However, we had been emailing, so I told her that my mom and I were going to be in Ohio, and we would like to come and see her. So, on our way home that is what we did. So, at this “reunion” is my cousin, her son (who is now in college, which blows my mind), my mom, and little old me. We are catching up on a ton of stuff. Of course, most of her stuff has been a tortuous roller-coaster ride that lasted a year regarding her husband’s cancer. She ended her story with what happened in the hospital the last week of his life. It is one of those stories that literally leaves you breathless. I promise that if I can’t get her to write it down, I will do my best with it. (This is the story that I don’t think I can do justice because it is THAT GOOD.)

Before we got to her house, I was totally jazzed to tell her about my dream, because I was curious to get her take on the whole thing. Well, after she told her hospital story of her husband’s last week before he died (which you still don’t know), my dream seemed very anti-climactic. I was actually kinda embarrassed to even pull my dream out. But, I had already built it up before she told her story so there was no going back. With far less enthusiasm than I had at the start, I repeated for her my dream, up to and including the picture falling off the wall. And then I waited to hear what she had to say about the whole thing. And this is what happened next….



(This is inspiration stump at Lily Dale and I got the picture here.)


Her: Have you ever heard of this place called Lily Dale, New York?

Me: No.

Her: It’s a psychic hot spot for feminine energy. Sedona , Arizona is the psychic hot spot for masculine energy.

Me: Oh.

Her: I have gone there several times. Their busy time is in the summer. Certified mediums gather there and they do readings to the crowds. They also have Reiki healings sessions twice a day. You can also pay to have a reading done if there is a specific medium you like and that is what you want.

Me: I see. I’ve had readings done by a psychic in St. Augustine. She was very good.

Her: The reason I am telling you this is because I had this reading done and the medium was right about everything except this one thing. I sat down and the medium says to me, “Someone is coming through and she wants me to tell you that the bitch is here! Does that mean anything to you?” I told her that would be my mother.

I laughed. That sounded exactly like my aunt.

Her: This was where it got weird. The medium then said, “Well, your mother says to tell you that everything is fine. She is with her brother.”

We look at each other.

Her: All I could think was that your dad had died and I was going to come home to find out that there was another funeral waiting for me. I get home and he is very much alive. I thought she got it wrong. And here you are with your dream to validate my reading. Maybe she got it exactly right.

Me: What do you think about the picture falling off the wall?

Her: That has nanny written all over it.

That night we pored through photo albums. I found several pictures of the same boy at different ages that looked like he could be the younger version of the man in my dreams. My cousin had no idea who was and there was no name, age, or anything else on any of the photos to identify him.

Was it just a dream or did I have a conversation with my nanny and meet an uncle I never knew (who is now dead) in said dream? I know that lots of people would lean toward the just a dream theory and forgotten about it a looong time ago. I might have done that, too, if not for a few things: 1) It felt so real (some dreams you know are your subconscious trying to work through your issues) 2) My picture falling off my dad’s wall 3) My dream being validated by my cousin’s reading and vice versa, and 4) Finding mysterious unlabeled photos in the family photo albums of this young boy through the years that look suspiciously like the man in my dreams (they are school pictures).

So, if this dream was real and true and my nanny had a son, who is now dead, and whose name I will likely never know, why was it so important that she tell me? I think it was because it wasn’t long after that she knew that I was going to be making a trip to Ohio. My dream was to validate my cousin’s reading. Her reading was to validate my dream. And the picture falling off the wall was my nanny telling my father to get a clue. Nanny always did shoot straight from the hip. She was never one to sweeten it up for you to make it go down any easier. She called a spade a spade. My dad was lucky that picture didn’t land on his head. So, there you have it… you can decide for yourself if it was just a dream.

WAS IT JUST A DREAM? PART I

The dreams that I have in the morning just before I wake up are always the most vivid. Of course, any dream that I have just before I wake up will be vivid, particularly if it causes me to wake up.

I suppose it was about two years ago that I had THIS dream. I was with my father and we were in Athens, Ohio. I would say that we were walking, but we weren't. We were upright, about two feet above the ground, and moving very fast. Say 55-60mph. We were traveling along familiar roads where my father's family lived. I kinda sorta knew where we were. And we were talking to each other, but we were not using our mouths. Yeah, we were communicating via thoughts.

Me: Where are we going?

Him: To Nanny's house. (Nanny was his mother.)

We rounded a curve in the road and there it was, except it looked very different. There was no front porch. No built-on garage. My cousin's trailer was not there. There were no fields for gardening. It was just a little white house, but I recognized it. My dad didn't stop.

Me: (turning) You're passing it.

Him: That isn't the house that I'm talking about.

We continued on. Next thing I knew we were in an old house that I didn't recall seeing before. It was unfurnished with wood flooring. I turned around and there was Nanny. (Nanny is dead.) She is young. She is in her 30s, but I know it is her. She is dressed up and wearing bright red lipstick. Nanny loved red lipstick. Nanny also had a thing for fashion and accessories and all that stuff.


Nanny: I wanted you to see my house.

Me: Okay.

Nanny: Can I show you around?

Me: Sure.

We walked around the downstairs and looked at the empty living area and kitchen. We arrived at the stairs that take us upstairs.

Nanny: The stairs go upstairs to the bedrooms. I don't like the stairs.

Me: Oh. Do you want me to see the bedrooms?

Nanny: Yes. Let's go. I just don't like the stairs.

Me: Okay.

Nanny: Be careful on the stairs.

The rooms here were small and unfurnished. There wasn't much to see, but we looked around. Then we went back downstairs. Dad stayed downstairs and was waiting on us.

Nanny: I have something important to tell you. Something that no one knows. I had another child. A son and I want you to meet him.

I was stunned. I turned around and there he was. He had sandy hair. Nice white teeth. Nice smile. A hint of freckles. A nice looking young man. He was also around the age of 30. I knew that he was dead, though Nanny didn't say so.

The Man: I never understood why my mother didn't love me until I got here. Now it makes sense. She tried to love me, but she just couldn't quite do it. It wasn't that I had a terrible life. It just didn't make sense.

It was right about that time that I woke up and sat straight up in bed gasping for air. Whooosh. I told my mother about this dream start to finish and asked, "Is there something that you know that I don't know?" She didn't know anything. So, that meant I was calling my father, because this dream had me Freaked Out. I expected my dad to be a little bit more open to the possibility of my dream being at least possible, but he shot it down as sheer fantasy, and a wild imagination on my part.

Later that afternoon, I had an email from dad. I don't remember precisely how he worded it, but it read something like this: "I don't know if this means anything, but after we spoke, I noticed that sometime during the night your picture fell off the wall."

THE INVITATION

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul, if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up in the middle of the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

THIS ISN'T YOUR USUAL PILLOW TALK

Do you ever have conversations with God? In the middle of the night I started getting this sore throat and I knew I was getting sick. I actually had the good sense to get up and start dosing myself with vitamin C. My father believes high doses of vitamin C at the onset of illness will ward it off. So, I took two or three grams (two or three thousand milligrams) and brought the bottle back to bed, since I was waking up on the hour. When I would fall back to sleep I was having this crazy dream about people returning gifts to me, and I was really ticked about it. It was really nice stuff and they were bringing it back "just because." They had no good reason. They just didn't want it. Who does that? If you don't want it, you regift it. Everyone knows that.

Like I said, I was waking up on the hour and popping a couple of vitamin C. While I was in this in-between state, I was aware of having these conversations with God about this whole crazy gift thing. Unfortunately, I can't remember now precisely what God said. The only thing I do know was that I didn't like it. It was all philosophical and God probably wanted me to be the better person. It was that sort of thing. I didn't want to be the better person. I wanted to drive across town and do some ass kicking. In lieu of that, I wanted to verbally knock someone (actually several people from the amount of gifts I remember from these dreams) into next week.

The last time I woke up, took my vitamin C, and went down again, I could see God talking but couldn't hear a thing. The mouth was moving but the volume was off. And I do remember being able to do some lip reading. Again, I have no memory recall of what was actually said. I think it was because I was still not liking the message. This time I was doing some talking of my own into my pillow. I said something like, "I am really glad that's over. You are really annoying. If you can't say something helpful, You really should just keep it to Yourself."

Did you read that blog I wrote about my mom? If you didn't, it's called THIS ONE'S FOR MOM. (Check that out. It's a link to my old blog. I actually did something techy and it worked. Woohoo. Thanks Patsy. ) Mom and I had issues in my teenage years because Mom was always so right about things. Jesus told us that God is the Father. Our Father. The Father. Everyone's Father. He is the Most Right. It only stands to reason that a person like me is going to find that extremely annoying. The beauty of that is that God understands me better than anyone else. It's called omniscience. Look it up. He's also more forgiving than anyone else.

It's funny. When I started this blog, I really didn't intend to stay stuck in my dream or my interaction with God. It was going to be my segue, that was kind of odd, into something else. Turns out that I think I know what God was saying, even though I still don't actually "remember" it. He was telling me to be more forgiving of those people who are returning my really nice "gifts." After all, He is forgiving of me when I tell Him to buzz off because he is annoying and He's God. Usually, I am the first person to love the metaphor. Today, not so much. But you get what you get.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
~Gandhi