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Monday, February 25, 2013

After the Dream.

Sometimes what happens to you "at work" affects you whether they try to keep you from feeling it or not.

Subject:Dances With Archangels
Time:10:42 am.
Mood: depressed. 

 Silver might melds into flesh in the form of longing dreams
"Come and visit me?" a soft whisper. "I come," the reply.
When morning breaks, all events fade save an impression
Arms and legs, the color red. A little bit more, his lover dies.

Yeah.. can't remember what it was about, but I'm sure it was better than yesterday's which I didn't post because it was x-rated. Now, mind you, x-rated is a good thing normally. It's just that I always end up watching everyone else. That's never fun.

Woke up sad this morning. Makes one wonder where they've been.

Monday, February 18, 2013

The Cook

Sometimes I think one of my altars is a cook. Or maybe I cook for people on "the other side". It's just that sometimes I know things about recipes my upbringing and formal education doesn't give. Take for example goose soup.

I have never had goose soup, but I'd gotten hold of a goose breast. Soup in of itself is easy, so I had the meat and vegetables in the pot. I asked myself, "Now, what should I use to flavor this?"

The instant answer came: white wine.

I don't cook with wine. My mother never cooked with wine. My people of themselves traditionally don't cook with wine. The aunt that got hoity toity also got too good to let little neices like myself into her house much to learn about cooking with wine. WTF with the wine.

So I checked and learned that white wine is used in dishes using poultry or fish. Particularly in some goose soup recipes.

And that's not the first time that has happened to me. It's just the most recent.

You can say that maybe I learned it off of a cooking show (that I never watched) or by some other means. That's the usual explanation for things like this, and sometimes it is true. Always search the information that crops up for you carefully.

However in this case, I can't explain away the way the answer came to me - like a white hot little voice speaking up out of the shared well of knowledge. Almost an instinct. The way some altars will speak to you, especially when they feel strongly about something, are only programmed for that task, or are incredibly shy.

So yes. Goose soup.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013


Subject:The theme is getting old
Time:2:17 pm.

Yes, I dreamed of the ex again last night. And it was another sappy moment, but thankfully I can't remember it today. *sigh* I miss the dreams I used to have where I was running from demons, fighting werewolves, or any number of interesting things.

So I shall post about my favorite astral fight instead:

T'was during the time of court when my shields were lowered and the whole universe finally figured out where I was.

Now, as I've said before, the problem with getting found when on the run is that a lot of people say, "Hey! She owes me money!!" and they tear holes in the fabric of time to get to your house and take debts out of your hide. I was fighting every brave upstart and ancient old fart from here until Sundry Tuesday.

One night as I stood in my living room just beside my body, I looked to my front door just as a traditional little bugger stepped through, as pretty as you please, without knocking. He wore the most elaborately embroidered kimono I've ever seen: red-orange with golden designs all over it. His hair was in a black little top not and the scabbard to his kitana, strapped to his left, was black and red.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

We bowed, he drew his kitana, and the fight began.

I awoke the next morning, memory-less, with face scratches, and wondering who won.

I still wanna know. I mean, it was probably him but c'mon!! Don't I get a slow mo' replay or something??

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Two more dreams

These two dreams were had directly after leaving one of the most abusive partners I had ever been with. This man worked in Washington DC near the federal district, programming. I was useful to him so long as my good name got him a place to live and other things. (His credit was ruined from a divorce.) As soon as he had what he wanted, he effectively worked daily to push me out. When I finally left, I was so confused and battered I wasn't even sure what sex I was anymore.

But as with many battered women, I didn't want to let him go and my heart ached like nothing had made it ache before. I found these and the importance to this blog is that one of them is a Fishbowl dream. I had only just gotten firmly aware of the Fishbowl, ironically because of my ex, but wasn't completely sure of how it worked just yet. This and many events like this gave me the clues I needed to understand.


Friday, August 15th, 2003
Subject: He haunts me even at naptime
3:00 pm.

Where were we? I don't know... but I'd decided to leave and go to Miami, and I wasn't coming back... he carried me the airport and we held each other tight and I begged him to let me stay, and he said that I'd be more productive "down there."

Wednesday, August 20th, 2003
Subject:Nap Time
Time:10:18 pm.
 A package came today from him, and I think that is what sparked today's dream. I took a nap right after receiving the package because it depressed me.

And in the dream he and I stood before a judge/jury type situation... lots of reds.... and they were deciding if we were allowed to stay together. I didn't say much, I don't know if he said anything, but I remember the judge talking a lot... weighing events, I guess... as I was waking up I realized he was gone and damn nearly screamed his name outloud...

I shouldn't be feeling this way, not really. He did abuse me quite a lot.

I've had this court dream before, though, and I'm not sure what it means. Not really.

Monday, February 4, 2013

the Farm

I was telling a friend the other day about one of the entires in this blog, and how it definitely is doing what it's meant to do. It doesn't matter if I have no readers. It does matter if I can figure things out. And it was quite the revelation the other day, realizing the "hunters" of my childhood dreams may not have been that. I mean, how many hunters wear military uniforms?

Of course as a child I didn't know those were military uniforms, it's just that hunting was something I could relate to. They carried guns, they carried pouches, they rode in the back of a truck... and my father would hunt and fish and bring home natural game for us to eat. It made perfect sense. It was always dark when I saw these guys, so it may still be that they were hunters and maybe I was watching things through the eyes of their dogs. So even now it makes sense, but I recognize the clothes when my husband puts one on. He's currently in a special training unit, so he doesn't always wear the standard uniform you'll see in the news report. In fact he more often than not just wears straight "greens" - especially when working the training field.

There are some differences, of course, but there it is. For real or not. 

I've also seen these greens recently, while in an  underground base while wandering in places I shouldn't be.

There is something else I just remembered thanks to writing this entry.

After that incident with the "burglar" in my room, my family moved from where we were to a place more in the country. It was right outside of a hunting club. There were a lot of woods - boy do I miss them! And so my dreams changed from meeting the hunters by being taken to them to meeting them at the hunting club by walking down the road to them.

But also I dreamed there were other things in those woods, and one of them was a big mansion that I had went to. I'm not sure how I got there, but I knew I'd time traveled to do it. It was bright day light and the path leading up to it was how you see many old English mansion; lined with perfectly manicured trees and well-graveled. I went up to the house but didn't go inside. And these days I think maybe it was just a big house for someone who was rich, but as a kid I took it to be a mansion. Light-colored brick; I can remember that much about it.

And then I went again another night, but it had burned down. There was nothing left.

While awake I'd also explore those woods. Sure, we kids knew it was a hunting club. We also knew the land was in dispute for some reason and that not many people went back there anymore. My older brother and cousins went all over the place out there. I mostly followed the pig trails, not really understanding my danger despite my frequent nightmares about getting mauled by wild boars (which eventually faded into more gruesome nightmares).

While exploring in the woods alone, one of the first times I dared to do it, I came across the house of my dreams. I could still see the tree-lined path. I walked up it and found what was left of the house, but there wasn't much there anymore Just some trash and a few bricks. It had been gone a long, long time.

My older brother told me that there were time travel ley lines in those woods, and for most of my life I believed it. Now I wonder just what it was.

Because there was at least one other incident that I'll never forget. We kids had went deep into the woods into the swampy section and found a tiny island in the water. We were building a fort there. Well, the others were much older and forgot about it rather quickly. But I was still very young and kept my interest. One day I decided to go to the Fort and work on it by myself. So I went.

While on the island a little boy showed up. He was very fair-haired and maybe a year or two older than me, but keep in mind we were both under ten. I can't remember how he introduced himself, but we were immediate friends and spent a long time playing together. At one point he asked if I lived nearby. I said yes and told him where. He then said he lived just over the ridge and that he would show me so I could visit whenever I wanted.

We climbed up over a small hill by the island and I looked down into this flatland, almost like a prairie. There was a farmhouse there, those farm fences with the x across them, and cows. The house was white. There was no road or anything, just the house, grass, cows, and off to the left a big barn. I can't remember the color of the barn, just the house. And that there weren't that many cows.

We played on the island a bit longer and then he had to go home. So I went home.

I tried to find the island again, to play with the boy again, the next day. But I couldn't find it. I tromped around in those woods lost for hours. I tried to find it again several times after that, but I never found our island again. And it's like the time I did play with him never happened, just the parts I described. I know we did some sort of kid roleplay the way kids do: things you take for granted so that all you remember is moving around young saplings and each other's faces, smiles. But that's it.

And the area where I lived was Florida. There was no place anywhere near my home that looked remotely like what the boy had shown me.

I never forgot him, though. Nor that day. I've often wondered if he tried to find me to play again as well.