Today I am thankful for dreams
the nocturnal kind....
well maybe the other kind, too.
I have been insanely busy. I'm finishing up my last week as a quality analyst in the sales department for a major health care company.
My boss panicked when I accepted a layoff agreement. They want to give me three months pay to look for another job.
I couldn't pass that up.
I promised to stay two weeks to help him out.
I get paid the same whether I stay home or go to work.
My team won't be released until April, so I decided to stay until the end of March.
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No, I haven't lit my multitude of black candles.
There has to be a better way to put into the universe that my local government needs to employ people with scruples.....
and the City Attorney who looks like my brother-in-law needs to.....um.....learn ethics and empathy or find another job.....
he enables abusers and liars......just like his predecessor.....
as does the abusive chick who runs the Animal Shelter.
Strange.....when I'm upset with someone....I run into other people pissed about the same thing.
That's how I wound up fighting tax hikes!!!
It's strange. I live in a city called Aurora: Due to the work of an idiotic councilman turned city attorney, they banned pit bulls. In this city, a pit bull is a mythical creature with locking jaws and mechanical legs (ugh...). They make this breed look like a canine version of the Six Million Dollar Man!
I met the best pit bull activist in the town I grew up in....Arvada. He was standing outside a King Soopers collecting money for a breast cancer charity. He had the cutest pit bull. The pit bull was why he got so many donations. That dog had eyes that made you empty your wallet into the donation box!
We attract that which we think about. I hate assholes who believe in canine mythology and kill dogs due to their stupidity. I found someone to help me stop it.
Now, as a witch, I'd could just ask a coven to cast a werewolf protection spell upon the city.
I've debated it.
I haven't done it.
Spells can be scary.
When I was a little girl watching my mother paint our front door red, I decided I didn't want to be a witch.
It seemed silly.
It seemed scary.
It also didn't seem to do any good.
It didn't do anything to save my mother from the abuser she married.
I finally cast my first spell in 1999 when some asshole kept harassing me in court. It was a simple spell to keep troublemakers away from my house.
Lo' and behold the person I thought was behind the harassment kept coming over. It was my in-laws who stayed away. I finally realized who was behind the stories that caused the trouble.
We moved and I didn't cast the spell again.
The next spell I cast was in 2009 after nearly a year of crap from the City.
I cursed them and the sitting mayor after I got a crazy email from a city councilwoman. I did something nuts to break the spell for the mayor who won (long story). The other spell can only be broken when the city attorneys stop lying about the citizens and employees.
That spell is NEVER going to be broken at the rate they're going......sigh.
I can't break it.
As part of that casting, I cast a couple of protection spells on the city employees, cops and firefighters. They're being messed around enough by the lawyers and HR. I didn't them hurt by the antics of the so-called leadership.
After that.....I swore I'd never cast another spell.
I lied.
I cast three more.
Each one was cast after numerous stalking incidents.
I lit a black candle after etching "please stop the stalking" into the wax.
The first night my father-in-law died. They said he was cleared of cancer the day prior of his death. He died suddenly of cancer before the candle burned down.
After nearly two more years of hell, I did it again. This time my sister-in-law died suddenly of undiagnosed cancer.
After eighteen months of more hell, I did a third time but wrote "please stop the stalking in a way that won't physically harm the perpetrator."
My ex-husband lost his job before the candle burned down.
I swore off spells.
Don't mess with witchcraft; you'll get drunk with power.
Worse
when stupid people die (usually because they're stupid)
and you've wished ill upon them (usually because they're stupid assholes)....
you feel guilty.
So, twelve black candles sit unlit by my bedside.
There has to be a better way.
I need to give it more thought. I could bitch out the city council in three minute increments. That does little good. They don't have very much power.
They also tend to like money. A lot of the shit that I witness is about their backhanded ways of collecting revenue. Let's see what we can make up to fine people for today, shall we?
It seems like that's the game.
It's frustrating.
There are better ways of teaching people lessons that hypnotically bitching them out when they have fingers in their ears.
I just have to think of them.
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Because Groupon resurrected my deal....
I'm insanely busy with their clients....
and a few that I refuse to charge.
Cancer patients trying to enjoy the end of their lives without anxiety (no charge....)
Medicare recipients who experience mental health/sleep/worry and have crappy health plans (no charge....)
That last one is something dear to me because I've spent the past two years either selling Medicare and Dual Medicare/Medicaid plans or teaching people how to sell them. I do make sure they clear it with their physicians before I let them see me.
I know which plans suck when it comes to mental health.
I was raised by my Grandparents so I feel the need to pay that forward.
I have a tough time cashing those checks. I admit I have some in the bottom of my safe deposit box that I've written void on. They'd protest if I sent them back.
I can't take their money. They need it!
The universe always takes care of me so long as I honor the beauty in others.
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I'm in a little bit of an ethical dilemma.
Someone made me the most beautiful artwork for my office....
it's something people pay hundreds of dollars for (when it's machine made)....
I know someone who charges $20,000 for similar pieces.
I can't put a price on it.
I'd refuse the gift but my name was built into it.
The woman that made it wanted me to share it with my clients.
It made me cry.
It sits in my office facing my desk.
I cry.
The weird thing about hypnotherapy is the striking realization that most people don't see their value; they don't see the intrinsic beauty of who they are when they strip away their egos...
I think that's why I cry.
So many people waste precious years living in pain and sadness.
It breaks my heart.
This is the second piece of artwork I've been given by clients. I have another. It was made by a woman who years ago refused to show her artwork after being criticized by an art teacher in college.
In three sessions, she started booking showings.
I never hung the drawing up because I don't want anyone to know she was my client, even though it was well over ten years ago.
When I want to give up because having two jobs is insane, I pull out her drawing and stare at it.
It helps.
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I'm too busy to feel sad.
When I'm stuck at home, I'm in my recording studio.
There is always something to do.
I need to carve out time to write recommendations for my 120 colleagues who were laid off. I'm too much in the thick of it to find the hypnotic words to help them sell themselves to potential employers.
Maybe it'll hurt less when I'm out of that office. It feels like a funeral parlor. I have a tough time going to work and seeing some of my colleagues cry and try to hide their tears.
It makes me cry.
That's my goal the first week of April. I'm going to start writing those recommendations I've put off.
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For several nights, I've had dreams of an old friend.
This has gone on for three or four months now!
I'll think it's over because the dreams stop for a few days
and then they come back with a vengeance.
Damn.....
It's gone on longer. There was a time when I was married and had to wake up pretending to sing Rush songs because...well....I'd wind up saying the person's name.
I don't sound good singing "A modern day warrior, mean mean stride....."
Come to think of it, I don't sound good singing anything.
When you study music, you quickly learn how to spot people who are more talented than you are and defer to their voices.
It's nice that I don't have to pretend I'm dreaming about being Getty Lee anymore.
Woo hoo!
Getting back to the dreams......
I don't see this person as I knew him.
I see him as he would be now....
I see him as he last appeared when I saw him.....
When I have these dreams, I feel this weird sense of universal connectedness.
I don't get it.
This loving, universal connectedness thing pushes me to grab my bass, grab a canvas to do more than just write hypnotic prose and recording my sing-song voice enunciating elongated vowels...
RELAXXXX.....
Now, I don't sound like that. I probably still have my mid-eighties Relax t-shirt.
I wonder if people will get the reference if I wear it?
My meditation recordings are often found on free file sharing sites. Oh, bless the thieves who bring me business without having to pay for advertising!
Maybe I need to listen more to the dreams......maybe they'll go away a little longer if I can figure out what I need to do?
More art?
Maybe that's what I need to do.
I think the guy in my dreams is a subconscious projection of my animus and he's telling me to work with more artists.
I seem to have good success working with artists.
Maybe I need to get in contact with that part of myself again.
I forgot how to compose music. I don't think I can figure out a key just by hearing music anymore.
There were days, in the past, where I couldn't sleep with the radio on because I'd analyze every song I heard. I married someone who had to listen to music all the time. I was sleep deprived!
Maybe I need to get back in touch with that aspect of myself.
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I just had this bizarre thought.....
They are now planning another high school reunion.....
I probably shouldn't go.
If I go and the guy in my dreams shows up, I'll want to sketch
or paint
or harass the band.
Maybe that's the warning.....
Don't go....
I got rid of this guy's pictures when my ex was going through my stuff and I was terrified he'd be stalked (there were threats made....and I was told my ex's cousin was dating this guy's neighbor....it scared the hell out of me).
I do keep an archive of every electronic picture I've taken. Maybe I'll print one out and put it in my studio.
Maybe not.....that's kinda creepy.
I'll think about drawing what I see in my dreams in oil pastel.
That's my favorite medium.
Drawing it is less creepy than printing a photo off.
Maybe that face reminds me of who I used to be....before I turned into an evil curmudgeon who fights assholes.
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Yeah....we turn into the very people we spend time with. If you spend time fighting assholes eventually you turn into one.
The difference between them and me is that I know when and why I act like a jerk.
They do it all the damn time. I don't think they do very much self-reflection, either.
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Well.....I'm off to my recording studio. I have to write hypnotic poetry that will inspire a beautiful lady to exercise.
May you find the means to busy yourself in productive ways.
May you see your intrinsic beauty as well.
Love ya lots,
S.
Next day edit: Another dream.....another day of crying.
Why?
I realize that the bad dreams cause me to fear that something bad will happen to the actor in my dream. I fear he is in physical pain.
The strangest part was that the good dreams cause me to fear that the actor is in some type of emotional pain, alone or depressed. That would be the only reason I'd see him again.
Even if we were at a reunion - if he were happy with his lady love, the things I see in my dreams would never happen. They may say hi. There may be introductions. There wouldn't be the things I see because he'd be happy!
I cry because I fear that there is pain. That's the only way those things could possibly happen - if he were alone and I were the last woman on the planet.
If that happened, his mother, sisters and thousands of prospective beautiful mates wouldn't be in his life.
It may be deeper than that. It is the realization that if I ever fixed my life enough to date, the guy I wind up with is probably hurting now.....or soon will.....
I won't date a married guy. I won't ruin a happy relationship.
That means, the guy has to be alone. Being alone....well, for most of us anyway....is painful.
So.....
This is stupid.
They are only dreams.
They're not real.
They're just dreams.
They don't mean anything bad will happen to another person.
The dreams probably only project my pain.
I have to be in pain.
I have to be alone.
I cannot have a partner because I can't figure out the crap in my life and I don't want to drag anyone else into it.
I just need to stay busy.
The dreams may betray my deepest fears.....
or they may be me whining about my circumstances by putting another face into my place.
No matter what happens, I truly want everyone to be happy.
Be happy.
Love ya lots,
S.