Time for A Paradox

This story comes from a long ways away.

Once upon a time I had this dream:
2005-10-26 23:54:00
In my dreams last night, I was with Jessie on some great, green lawn. Jessie said to me, "Someone is here. He's your husband from the future, and he's here to tell you something. You died in fire in a warehouse."

I'm not sure if he said warehouse, but I think that's what he said.

The future husband had long, curly brown hair and a roundish face. At least, that's how his face appeared one minute. Then it changed, and I could see lines and a different structure. I studied it, trying to see if he was someone I knew. I wondered if it was Jack. He told me that I'd not recognize him this way, that it had been a long time and he had changed.

He said that he had brought newspaper clippings with him so that I could read what the newspapers had said about the fire. Jessie objected, saying I shouldn't read them. I grabbed Jessie by the collar and said forcefully, "Jessie, you know what it is I have to do. You know what it is I'm here on Earth for. You KNOW I have to pay strict attention to the future, all of the time, and I WILL read those newspaper clippings!"

Looking at my future husband, something told me that he missed me... I mean there I was this younger version of the woman he'd married, and I hadn't married him yet. It must've been hard. I kissed him full on the mouth, and at first he returned the kiss but then pushed me away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you must be uncomfortable."

"Thank you," he replied.

We went away from the field to talk, and we entered this dark little trailer in the middle of a swamp area. I don't know what happened to him. I was there, waiting for him to come talk to me about this thing he'd come to say, but he wasn't there yet. There were mushroom growing on the wall; miniature versions of the kind you find on tree trunks. They were lined up like little soldiers, or trees at a tree farm. I ate them one by one, thinking thatI wasn't hungry at all and I should stop.

I woke up from that dream, the way I do when things are a message, before my alarm clock rang when it was still dark outside.
***
And then I met him and married him.

2009-07-01 18:21
Note: I am now married and my husband has a round face and brown curly hair.
*** 

And have been stressed and worried about dying in a warehouse fire ever since.
So on Saturday night I'm in bed listening to him snore and worrying about dying in a warehouse. I worried about how sad he would be, you know. The typical things you worry about.
And They said to me, "We can fix that." The message came to me from the right frontal side of my head. I can't remember the exact way they said it, but they basically said they'd change my fate. And I knew, the way I always know, that it was time for a Peer review - which is basically when they take the folks who have certain roles on this planet, review their actions, hearts and minds, and see if they get to stay in their job. Or, if the contract is up, if they want to go for another round. It's all very legal.
I said, sure. I'd work some more... but I wasn't willing to exchange the life of my children, my husband, father, or really anybody to save my own. Imagine: living out a long life with such a sorrow on your shoulders.
I don't know if I fell asleep at night or not. I do remember feeling frightened and uneasy through this and wondering what on earth had set me off. The TV shows hadn't. I didn't know. And then I happened to notice tht there were 3 humanoid figures in my room by the bed in a row.
So I freaked and tried to crawl across the bed to my husband's side of the bed by the wall away from the figures and the edge of the bed. I'm kinda scared of the edge of the bed.
And while I'm doing that it's the typical thing. You're scared but you've got something inside of you telling you that you're faking being afraid, you're faking everything, you're imagining it, etc.
Tim started to wake up and said, "What are you doing?" very clearly. Normally he'd have gotten right up. But he didn't. He lay there like a stone, you know. And after a while I calmed down and fell asleep.
The next day I woke up very early, which is a habit of mine when I've "worked" and just kind spent the day in a foul mood and panicky.

Here's the thing. Got a call from one of my "hand maidens" a few hours ago. It appears Saturday night she also was picked up. She woke up that night to a very tall being in her room to collect her. And no matter how she told herself she needed to get up and confront things, she couldn't.

Thing is... were they lying? If so, this will happen. If not, as I have accepted another round of work, then we have a time paradox.

I know from experience you can change time. Oh, if you want to change a huge event you need several sets of people because that's a lot of flow you have to fight against. Picture standing on the beach alone when the tide is coming in, and you're trying to turn the tide with only your hands. Kinda hard, isn't it.
But there was this one time when I worked in a probation office and I couldn't find a particular folder. My supervisor was a former Navy officer, and she was awesome - but I knew me having to go to her all of the time to find things was getting to her. It would get to me.
She was out of the office when this was happening, so as I looked I worried. I didn't want to have to ask her where the stupid folder was. And then I remembered a deja vous dream I had as a teenager of that very event, and in the dream Navy Supervisor was indeed irrirated. And lectured me on not thinking for myself as she went and got the folder, showed me were it was.
And I realized: oh. She showed me where it was. I'll go to where she showed me it was.
And I found the folder.

Arrows

Synchronicity continues as religion comes up often in my circles. There is someone I knew who has joined a heathen establishment that has a bad reputation: not by gossip, but by the eye-witness accounts I found today. But because my husband is more attached to that sort of faith than I, my friend is more open to talk to him about things while I get excluded. Which is a problem, because years ago my friend swore loyalty to me.

In pagan and heathen circles "warlock" means "oath-breaker".

The situation has had me considering my own path. My husband follows Fenris, I've always been fond of Loki, and my friend loves Thor. Well, most people of that religion tend to love Odin and Thor. They're the most glamorous; get the most pr.

Even though I can talk about these things on equal ground as far as the mythos goes and other intellectual matters, I'm not a worshiper. I just can match things.

I've nearly 40 years of perceiving my life in relation to the gods this way:

I would go to sleep at night, and if an audience was required of me whomever had come (sometimes a god, sometimes a messenger) would wait patiently a small distance from the foot of my bed as I drifted into the dream state so they could speak with me.

I've made gods tremble at my anger.

I've had multiple people learn who I was and swear fealty.

And all of that has been in doubt since I learned the truth of how you're lied to by aliens. Maybe some of it is true, but I have to know for sure.

Someone once told me I was a chaos mage. Well, that's almost exact - except I think a chaos mage wouldn't have a Sumerian god tell you "You're one of us, you came from where we are, come back to talk to us at any time" when you do a ritual from the Necronomicon for shits and giggles. I think they'd get a different reaction, something that doesn't suggest that you're siblings.

But, okay. Chaos mage. So look up the definition.

Yes, I do happen to be a natural born chaos mage. I did not learn it from other chaos mages: I just kind of knew what I know and have done what I've always done. I will give Loki a bottle of beer, shoot an arrow for Diana, and meditate for nirvana. This is what makes me a bridge.

That is what "They" told me I must be "the bridge and gap between the different factions." I had to reassume the thorny crown.  Or something like that.  So it was the state of my beefrost existence that allows me to do what I do and to be what I am. It is nothing to be scoffed at, nor treated as a liability or danger. I am more free than most by my very nature and belief system.

The good thing about being, technically, a chaos mage is I am not tied down by your dogma. I am freed by my interpretation of it.

I am able to take new information about UFOs, like the new findings and theories about big foot, and use that information for a greater knowledge on the whole. Instead of rejecting it outright like so many people do.

Being a chaos mage is not being part of a religion.

So. So so so.

This particular bit of information is a part of my puzzle for the truth, I think. A chaos mage is a mix of everything; they pick, choose, learn, adapt, and do based almost wholly on belief.

The thing I'm supposed to be a bridge for? I don't know. I just know it's tied into belief and the persception thereof.

It's like being a spiritual jack of all trades, I think.

So.. why a chaos mage?

What other questions should I ask?

In the early morning

Sometimes you just really want someone to talk to, to synergize with... to relate to.

So you try, again, to turn to somone. Say it's your husband. You've had an eventful day rediscovering some past life material you need to process, the implications it has in regards to your search for the truth, and you've just gotten a message from  your son that he has sleep paralysis episodes where - wide awake - a man in a pin-striped suit comes in to tell him how worthless he is.  This is the same son who, when he ws 5, told you about how he lived on the moon and built spaceships. Tipped with gold. For conductivity.

You turn to your husband in an attempt to talk, but even as the words stumble and halt as you try to force them out of your mouth you are overwhelmed with this feeling. You can't talk to him. There's no use in trying. But you tell him how your son needs to come home to live with you again.

And your husband responds maybe so, but you gotta convince the boy of that. This is his only comment on the matter. A minute later he starts telling you about viking fighting techniques and this DVD he wants to buy. Medieval re-enactment is his football and your feelings just got put back on the shelf in favor of a stick.

And you remember someone's sage advice given to you the other day about how you should just leave men alone to fixate on their games, their immaturity, their hobbies. Why, take for example the time so-and-so wanted to have a family day with the kids at the zoo but Daddy wanted to listen to the game. So he made them sit in the parking lot of places and listen to the game instead of doing things. And that was her fault, somehow, for not letting him alone, that the man couldn't grow up enough to stop being selfish enough to sacrifice a single Sunday.

And you know that for you, at least, it's not good enough. Because you're not fulfilled this way. You're empty, and your marriage is becoming a shell, and really. If the man can't stop fixating on his toys long enough to pay attention to what's really important, he's not a man at all. And as a woman, you need a man. Not a little boy.  Because although everybody needs a little me time, everybody also needs to not have to compete with a game for what's important.

Because sometimes you wake up scared in the night. And even though he's there, there's no one to turn to. And you worry for your children to the point of daily nausea, but there's no one to turn to. And you wonder if your death time is coming, but you can't talk to him. He's more worried about playing swords. And you've never felt more alone in your entire existence.

And you wish you had someone to talk to. And you even wonder if you're still pretty enough to have an affair.

But then think that in this double standard Western society, you're never going to find a man whose mother tempered him enough to be - well - a man.

And that makes you even lonelier. And black inside, so blue.

Spouses, if your other half is an abductee and they can't talk to you - the fault isn't necessarily theirs. It might be yours. You don't have to believe to be a good and loving partner. You just have to listen, be there, hug them, and interact. It's not hard.

At least, it's not as hard as losing them if you really do love them.