Oh, shit! At least he's still alive and his leg isn't broken. This isn't what I signed up for. It is wrong!
I popped some valerian on the drive home. At least we have ONE thing in common.
I barely stood my ground.
The nightmares cause vertigo, too.
Last night, I slept four hours. I fell asleep weeping to the point of hyperventilation.
The dreams have to stop. I can't take it anymore.
Last month, I paid an Irish witch in the homeland to cast a spell to help me find a new love. She sent me a talisman.
I received it yesterday.
I'm terrified to touch it because I now fear what it will bring to me.
It can't be touched until I stop having these dreams.
Still...there is a huge possibility it will bring me a soprano saxophone - just saying.
*****
I'm looking at this adorable little silver charm, wrapped in tape, afraid to unwrap it while thinking about having an energetic connection to a man who hates me.
How can I break the chain?
I'm praying and crying. Why do I feel this? It's really hurting me and it is causing me to feel stuck.
It makes no sense. Why would I feel the energy of someone who can't stand me?
Maybe I do that as an excuse to be alone.
That's probably what is truly going on.
How can I make this go away?
I cried so hard while begging to make the feelings, the nightmares and my worries stop.
When I saw his parents' grave, I told them about the nightmares and I promised them that I would pray for him. I promised to keep my prayers pure and - get this - I even promised to go to a legalistic Christian church when the nightmares stopped and I knew deep in my heart he was okay.
That's what his parents would have wanted. My feet will possibly burn the moment I step on to holy ground but a promise is a promise. I'm a person of my word.
I started to get a headache due to the crying. I couldn't breathe. The pain became so bad that there was no choice but to close my eyes.
Guess what I saw?
Ugh -
I had to open them again.
I had a vision of him looking at me. In my mind's eye, he seems to have very dark black hair now. His skin is pale. He looks stoic and unwell.
What the hell?
Both my heart and mind are broken.
Or maybe this is early stage dementia?
Yeah....that's possibly it.
I laid there, with eyes wide open, for hours until I realized I was dreaming. The last time I looked at the clock it was close to 6:00 a.m.
*****
The coven will cast a spell to heal my heart the day of the full blue moon (Halloween, no less).
I must be cursed to love someone who hates me.
Why?
It's probably safer to ruminate over someone who hates me than take a risk to date someone who might break my heart.
****
There is more -
When I meditate, I feel peace.
This is the way I feel when I'm alone with my old friend. In person, I don't sense hate or disgust from him. I sense a little irritation at my inability to understand what he is not saying.
I only sense hatred in our online communications or lack thereof.
Maybe that's the problem?
Maybe I ought to stop meditating.
I don't know.
He outgrew me when we were seventeen.
The dreams are insane.
What the hell is wrong with me?
What is my subconscious mind trying to work out?
*****
Last night, there were horrible nightmares. I dreamt of fire. I dreamt of brimstone. I dreamt of him dressed as a soldier conducting a scorched earth campaign. It didn't matter who was hurt. It didn't matter who died.
All the while a stupid, sappy 70's era love song about how hard it is to see someone you've gotten over, played in the background like an unfortunate soundtrack.
I think those visits with him broke my brain.
I also dreamt of him at my gravesite. He's asking about the past. He's trying to put together a timeline of events based on false information. He writes on a black stone to mark the death of something that truly never existed.
I don't know what to make of it.
This has got to end.
Maybe this dream is my mind's way of telling me that my prayers have been answered and that it will finally stop.
Please - it has to stop. I tire of being alone. I can't be with anyone until these nightmares stop.
If I scream that name out in holy terror at night, then I have to be alone.
****
The veil is thin. Psychic energies are all around but at Samhain they are off the charts.
Mercury retrograde causes some of us to look into the past.
None of what I'm feeling at night is real.
It cannot be real.
I'm sure some of the confusing emotions I feel are simply due to sleep deprivation.
*****
I visit graveyards on 'All Saints Day/The Day of the Dead' to visit with the dead. I typically visit with soldiers at Fort Logan National Cemetery. My parents are buried there. I have a list of decedents I visit for Facebook and Twitter friends who live in other states.
Maybe this year, I'll visit my extended family in my home town and buy an extra set of flowers for a couple of angels to ask them, yet again, to watch over their son.
*****
Oh my,
This is really funny. I just learned that I have two hours to put together and give a one hour presentation on praying to let go of things that are limiting our personal expression of life.
At least I have some inspiration for that. I'll probably come home and have another good cry. I love working with people in recovery. They are very insightful souls.
See? The Gods have a sense of humor.
Love ya,
S.
Edit next morning 2:00 a.m.
Okay, I finally think I have an answer. I have to feel love for the guy in my nightmares so I'm not tempted to glare at him if I run into him in public.
This person once dissuaded me from auditioning as a bass player for a band because he said that "female bass players are holes for the band." I'm shocked I didn't remember that.
I remember it clear as day now. This is why I walked away from him. I'm asexual (back in the day, we called it prude). Would he really think I'd play that role?
Disgusting.
Now, over three decades later, I laugh at this. I have NEVER had anyone ask for sex from me while playing bass. Maybe I suck that badly, I don't know.
Once, I was working with a sound engineer making hypnotic recordings. I had to run away from him when he told me his equipment was in the bedroom and he asked me to take a seat on his comforter. His eyes got all watery, he tilted his head and tried to touch my curly red hair. I took off.
I was a paying customer. Maybe he thought himself a pimp gigolo or something.
I prayed for him to find a wife, he's now married.
The only time I was propositioned in a band was when I played clarinet for a city orchestra. A female percussionist was pretty overtly interested. She'd pout when I wouldn't take her up on her offer to let me service her. It got so bad, I quit. It was a shame. I was the only clarinetist.
That's it!
I don't understand what he was worried about.
This, though, has been a problem for me. Guys think it's cool that I'm into male dominated professions and hobbies. They think it's cool I can play music. It's cool that I'm a hypnotist. It's cool that I'm a counselor and a libertarian activist.
It's cool until they give me a ring. At that point, I'm supposed to stop what I'm doing. The first guy who gave me a ring destroyed my vintage Peavey T-40 because I practiced too much (I think it was stamped 00112 - it was an early copy). The second guy stalked me and destroyed the computer that I used to make recordings because he was afraid I'd out earn him. That wasn't hard to do as he wasn't working.
I don't want to deal with that kind of insecurity anymore.
Maybe the dreams are telling me that I should only date musicians. The reason is that they would understand the value of a bass that I can make sound like numerous other basses. They'd steal it before they'd break it. Guitars accumulate memories and energy. For someone like me, they're children. I'd rather it be stolen and given a good home before seeing the wood splintered all over the floor.
Let's see if this realization stops the nightmares.
I'm going to slap the hell out of Charlie and sleep with him tonight. I used to sleep with books but then I started to wake up with papercuts.
I'm sure that this is what I forgot to remember. The insinuation that I can't be trusted to play bass without wanting to fuck people around me just irritates the obnoxious bitch in me.
Heaven help me if I ever see that face again. I'll probably just shake my head and give myself whiplash. If anyone knew how prude I can be- it was teenage HIM.
Geesh!
Hugs,
S.