Images from a Delirious Napper

I've had quite an emotional rollercoaster of a life for the last few days and, on top of that, I've not had enough sleep. It has boiled down to me being thoroughly exhausted this afternoon. I was attempting to slog through my Math lessons and was missing practically every problem so I decided to throw in the towel and catch a little shut eye.

From 1:30 to 3:00, I tossed and turned and was painfully conscious of every word that was running through my far too busy mind. I got up and peed then decided I would give it one more shot. I wanted to be fresh for dinner with my family.

From 3:00 to 4:00, I sank into oblivion, but not a restful one. I heard myself wondering in my dream state... "What on earth have I been smoking?!!!" It felt like I had crossed through the looking glass. Everything was upside down, backwards, inside out, HUGE when they should be small, PARTICLES when they should be huge masses. A very disorienting experience, to say the least. Here is a collection of some of the images I retained from my trip through Dream Land...

• I was driving a car far too fast down a narrow parking lot, barrelling toward the exit gate and the police officer's station. To slow down to avoid getting a ticket, I pressed with all my might on the brakes, then wondered why I wasn't slowing down. Realizing I had put my foot on the floor and it didn't make contact with the road (braking a la Fred Flinstone), I began to panic and searched for the "other" method of braking - the actual brake pedal. I slowed in enough time to not crash through the exit gate.



• The police officer was stopping me to check my car's fluid levels, not to arrest me for speeding. When my car was declared fit, I headed off and rounded a corner only to find I was back at the beginning of the parking lot.



• At some point I picked up a baby whose diaper was so wet, its butt was heavier than his head and it tipped over, butt-up, in my arms. Somehow, and I've yet to understand how this worked in this world, the heavier butt made it so his head went down. Go figure.



• I was doing math (of all things) in some bizarre room when my friend Kellie and her fiance Joe showed up in their full wedding regalia and wanted to take me on an adventure. They hustled off, but I couldn't go because the baby needed its diapers changed. I wasn't going to change the diapers. I was just going find the person that would.



• After the baby disappeared, I left the room where I was doing homework to go find Kellie. I exited from the way I came in and found myself in a lobby where all the walls were painted to look like stairs, but there were no stairs and there were no doors. When I turned to go back through the door I just exited, there was a wall. When I turned around, there was a door that opened into the parking lot. When I attempted to exit, I found that the door was actually stairs painted to look like a door. I walked up the stairs and found myself in the same room I had started in. My math homework was spread all over the room now because of a huge, industrial-sized fan someone had placed in the room. The room was now painted purple and blue. To get to my homework, I had to jump on a couch to get up to the platform above where I had been sitting, then jump down to the other couch by where my papers were flying around in tornado fashion.



• When I jumped up onto the platform, I had to duck and swerve to avoid the light fixtures that were hanging down everywhere. They were made of porcelain so sheer I could see through them, with colors that swirled around the surface. They were shaped like teapots.



• Somewhere along the way, I spied flying pigs. They looked like cherubs, but they were, indeed, pigs.



• The entire time, my thoughts were in Miss Countrie's language.



• I found myself in a room with empty picture frames everywhere - hanging on the wall, dangling from the ceiling, littering the floor. Everywhere.



• In the purple and blue room there was a man who kept looking at his watch. Even though i was across the room from him, every time he looked at his watch I could see what he saw. His watch consisted of one pink strip and one blue strip of paper wrapped around his wrist and folded together to clasp at the center. The "face" of the watch was the time hand written in pencil. Every time he looked at his watch, I could see the time and it was written in this format: 09:32:57. Each time he'd look at it, he'd say, "That's not the right time!" Then he'd tear off his watch. Magically, another watch would appear in time for him to look at it again and a different time would be written in pencil. I never saw how the watches were made or how they got on his wrist.

I woke up more exhausted than when I laid down and completely disoriented about where I was. Nice!

Training

Last night I dreamt of flying and training with the fiercest creatures I've ever seen. This morning, my muscles feel the residual effects of a work out and I'm wondering where I travelled. I can feel every cell in my legs, arms and back as though I've gone through a rigorous personal training session. I woke feeling exhilarated and alive.

In the dream, I knew who my allies were, even though they were continually able to shape shift. I recognized them by how I felt around them. When I first met them, I loved them instantly and that feeling never changed even when I felt confused at times when they would shape shift into someone I didn't recognize or to whom my brain would trigger a repulse reaction. At times these creatures terrified me in their intensity and power and I would cower away from them until they would face me and my soul would remember who they were.

There were other creatures to whom I had an immediate "stay away" reaction upon meeting them. Sometimes the feeling was laced with distrust. At other times it was a simple distaste for who they were. And yet, at others, it was a wariness and an uncertainty that I felt within me when I was around them, but there was no internal "warning" signal. It was this last category of beings with whom I did battle while in training. It was these beings whom could be transmuted if they so desired.

My mentors were big beings that scared almost everyone around them when they would walk through a space or land admist a crowd. They taught me to fly. They taught me to fight. They showed me my own power and how to use it to protect myself and those who were with me. They taught me as I raised through the ranks until I was equal in knowledge, strength and power to stand beside the leader. He, of all of the trainers, was the biggest, baddest and meanest with also the most gentle, kindest, loving heart. I knew him from the first moment I saw him.

While training with them, we entered into many battles with the opposition. I knew the outcome of the battle prior to entering based on how I felt about the opponents before going into the fray. In the beginning, my trainers fought in a cluster with me in the center to protect me. As time went on, they began to allow me to emerge from the center for a time to fight the most weak of our adversary. Eventually, I was on the outer ring in my rightful place protecting those I loved.

In one such battle, we encountered a tribe of beings who could be transmuted if they were willing to be. They fought voraciously and would not give in. I made eye contact with their second-in-command and he glared at me. He was strong. He would not submit. I remember grasping my right fist to my chest, thumping it twice upon my heart chakra and then pointing toward him forcefully. As I did so, my power shot forth and to him, almost as a tangible, visible golden ray. His eyes grew wide and stayed locked with mine until he collapsed, heaving and weeping.

I approached the glorious being. He had the face of a man, the body of a giant wolf and the mane of the most royal lion of the kingdom. He was golden and silky and his eyes were molten gold. He looked at me, quivering, feeling vulnerable in his new, raw, enlightened state. I bent down and reached toward him. He stared at my hand, then placed his paw in mine. I could feel him trembling as he looked around at those of his tribe, fearing retribution.

"I imagine you are scared," I thought into his eyes.

He nodded slightly, just once.

I nodded back and said, "I've got you. We've got you. The others will follow now. Thank you for your bravery."

At that point, we found ourselves in a special restaurant, the space that my troupe loved to dine. The basement was reserved for us and we had to descend a steep stairway that was almost, simply, a ladder. Most of the clan was already there when I arrived with the LionMan walking timidly behind me. His golden hue contrasted sharply with the dark earth tones of my attire and that of my people. We entered the space and those around the table stood and bowed to the new arrival, making way for us to sit at the head of the table.

Nighttime Travels

Last night I dreamt of many beautiful places. I dreamt I went to New York with a bunch of friends. We shopped and played and travelled everywhere we could on the subway. It was very reminiscent of my time there in 1988. Not much had changed and I felt very confident and safe being there.

Later, I found myself in Italy - where I've never been - visiting my distant family for a couple days. Funny me, after I'd been in Italy for a day and knew I was going home the next day, my brain began wondering how I was going to get back in America because I don't have a passport. I had this whole dialogue with the me now and the dreaming me...

How did you get into Italy without a passport?
I used my birthcertificate.
Oh. I thought you had to use a passport.
You do. They let me go just this once.
Oh. Nice.

Funny how dreams work out like that.

At any rate, Italy is beautiful. The family home in which I was staying was warm and inviting, made of old stone and hardwood floors that gleamed with a polished sheen. There was an old stone fireplace the had a gently roaring fire in it. Above the fireplace there was a projection of a slideshow containing my family's art. On every wall there were masterpieces of art. Some of the created by my family. Some of them were massive puzzles they had done together then Hodge Podged them and framed them. Some of them were famous pieces by famous artists. Everywhere I looked, I was delighted.

I discovered that my cousin had created all of the art and animation for a 1/2 hour children's movie about Jesus that was popular over there. She showed parts of it to me and I wanted to cry with the beauty of it. The colors were vibrant. I remember her saying how she loved using the rose and azure the best. The movie reminded me of a children's book I had once read and she had portrayed Jesus so lovingly and real. I remember feeling so much love and passion radiating from her and realized that was how I felt when I created my art.

I walked through the house several times throughout my stay, falling in love more and more with the place. At one point, we were all gathered in the kitchen - a longstanding tradition on my Italian side - and I realized that Grandma Faye (who was married to my Italian Grandpa, but died in springtime 2003) was there and I felt such happiness to see and hug her. I felt the touch of her hand on my cheek and smelled her familiar scent - roses. And there, looking out the window at the backyard was Grandpa Vic (my Italian Grandpa who hasn't been the same since Faye died and is now in a home for Alzheimer's patients) and I kissed his cheeks and ruffled his dignified, silky white hair - our little "thing" that he always let me do. He is such a proud man and always looks his best. Ruffling his hair was the absolute worst thing because then he looked mussed up. But he would let me.

I stood between them and we looked out the window. The backyard was a miniature version of their backyard of their home in which they lived for over 50 years on Signora Drive in Rose Park. I remember saying to them, "This reminds me of the old backyard on Signora Drive. Especially that tree."

Grandpa had a thing for trees. He planted a ring of trees around his backyard - all fruit bearing - and then spent an exorbitant amount of time complaining and fighting off the birds that were attracted to the fruit.

When it came to wake up, I felt sad. I wasn't ready to leave Italy or my grandparents. But I was grateful for the time I had had there.

Further Update

I'm appreciating my new sense of open space and all of the discoveries that have happened for me since Thursday night!!!

FURTHER UPDATE

Since I have infused myself with big love and embraced a new experience regarding open space, I've had innumerous inspirations that I feel really excited about. Even more exciting, I've taken the first step on all the inspirations that I could!

Yesterday, I filled out my application for SLCC. I'M GOING BACK TO SCHOOL! I'm excited to be finally pursuing my dream to be a teacher and I am going for a joint degree in education and social work.

Yesterday, I discovered a LOCAL publisher who is perfect for the book I've been working on. I've written my query letter and will be submitting my manuscript today.

MY REQUEST

I'd love to enroll you in my exciting adventure. I believe focusing the energy of a large number of people creates an amazing vortex of success when it's put toward a focused intent. When you think of me, see me successfully completing school, send love and see me signing the contract with the publisher. Hold space for 17 seconds focused on loving me and seeing me as successful in these two adventures. And, for those who know me personally, I'd love to receive support and loving energy through emails or texts.

YAY! Thank you!

Heartbreak

I woke on the edge of a dream a couple hours ago with tears pooling on my pillow. The sting of sadness and heartbreak lingers, images of the night-scenes flash at me with stunning regularity. I am small and turned inward to protect a heart that feels vulnerable and raw...

It was an important event, a show of grand proportions that had just arrived in our city to bring its message of love and life. A few hundred of us had been asked to witness the final dress rehearsal and give feedback. I was excited to be counted amongst that number and arrived alone, having no idea who else would be there.

I had been asked to make a presentation during intermission. Prior to the show, my presentation had failed to finalize, my computer crashed and I had to start from scratch. In the process, I forgot to get ready until the very last moment. I arrived at the auditorium fully unprepared on every level, scared and sad. My soaking wet hair was in a towel turban and I paid no heed to the people, dressed at least in Sunday best, if not full formal, who looked at me as though I had no right to be there dressed in my casual clothes, no make-up and wet hair.

I found an empty seat on the right side of the auditorium and opened up my laptop upon the cushion. Crouching down on the floor, I furiously went to work to complete the work that, apparently, was not meant to be finished. The more frantically I worked, the more behind I got and the more frazzled I felt. The presentation wasn't working, there was no way the slideshow would be ready. I had to throw in the white flag. Surrender.

Feeling dejected, I closed up my computer and rose from the floor. I was near the front of the auditorium and they flashed the house lights so I quickly passed between the orchestra pit and the first row of patrons and ran up the left aisle to find my designated seat. It was on the end of a row of empty seats. As I approached it, feeling sad that there was no one I knew there, I spied my once-best friend a couple rows in front of me. She stared straight ahead, not acknowledging my existance.

I felt the tears burn, but bravely swallowed them. I didn't want to let them see me cry. I didn't want to let anyone see me cry. I slid slowly into my seat, towel-turban skeewompas on my head. I slouched down far so the view of the people behind me would not be interrupted by my headgear. I realized that I had left my cord over somewhere and had to find it. Retracing my steps, I retrieved it and then returned to my seat only to discover it was now occupied, as well as the seat next to it.

In my seat was the boy I met at 10, fell in love with in high school and loved for at least two more decades - far longer than he loved me.

In the seat next to him was my once-best friend. While she hadn't been a part of my life for anywhere near the length of time he had, she had been present for some of the biggest, most important shifts in my life.

The commonality: I had loved them both and trusted myself enough in their presence to open fully to them, show them my good, bad, ugly and beautiful. Both of them had been to the very center of my heart where I am most tender, most vulnerable, most innocent. Both of them chose out of relationship with me because they wanted to move on. Both of them left with stating how they felt and what they wanted and what their experience of our relationship had been without giving me the chance to use my voice. Both of them left me with my heart wide open and bleeding love.

Suddenly all the chairs in that section were full except the one opposite of her. I carefully edged my way through the row and slid into my seat. Both of them sat stone cold, no awareness of who I was or even that there was a person in front of them. They were aware of one another and made it apparent that they were happy to see one another, but neither of them acknowledged me. Feeling so out of place, I slouched further in my chair. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, sliding her eyes up to my towel and made a noise of disgust as she leaned away from me, closer to him.

Slowly, I unwound the towel, my dripping hair snarled and standing haphazardly about my head. No amount of smoothing with my hand would tame the mop and I had no brush handy. I felt inadequate and inappropriate.

Soon the two of them were leaning toward each other talking intimately. I tried to lean in to talk with them, but the more I did, the more intense became their projection of "stay out of this." The more I tried to connect, the more they pulled away with disgust. The more I tried to show my love, the more they turned their back to me.

His wedding ring glimmered in the dimming lights as he moved his hand to her knee to comfort her in her growing discomfort of my presence. Then he squeezed her knee and pulled away his hand, placing it on his own knee. His ring sparked again until he fiddled with it and then slowly pulled it off, setting it on the arm of his chair. Out of the corner of the light, I could see the circle of gold sparkling there and I wondered at his action.

The show began, the music filling the air and the lights from the stage filling the house. The costumes were blindingly bright and covered in sequins and crystals. Had I been in a more comfortable space, I imagine I would have enjoyed the show. He leaned toward her, looking pointedly at me and said to her, "Let's get out of here. Do you want to?"

She glanced at me and back at him, nodding empatically. He reached for her hand, their fingers entwined, they rose from their chairs and they left the auditorium. When they opened the door, the lights from the lobby were painfully bright and when they exited, the door slammed resoundly behind them.

They left behind his ring that winked at me mockingly and a broken heart... my heart that slowly thudded in my chest, aching and crying...

Waking on the edge of that dream has left me haunted with the residue of unresolved heartache. I felt the pangs of having loved so deeply that I believed that person would never hurt me, only to discover it was that person who could inflict the deepest wounds. It took me years to release the memory of that boy and she was witness to a lot of the process. Now I sit here wondering... what next? When it comes to love, for me, there is no simple way of letting it go. I feel it down to the very core of who I am when I allow someone in. I don't do that often, but when I do, it's a lifelong connection.

Today I go forward into my life knowing I have loved and have loved big; I've fallen and have fallen hard; I have lived and have lived wide open. And, in that process, I've hurt big, grown big and become big. In this wound there is my strength and for that, I'm grateful.

Now I just wish that pain would dissolve...

Waking Love

On the edges of dawn, I dreamt of a man whom I've loved for a very long time. I don't remember the last time I walked with him in my dreams and felt stunned when I realized the call of the aching heart I was responding to belonged to him. The sadness in the call was so deep and dark and primal that it took my breath away and caused tears to escape from the corners of my eyes.

On angel's wings, I followed the call, the longing for peace, and found myself within the walls of a glorious, wooden mansion. Every inch of it gleamed with untouched newness and it seemed as though it could house five families comfortably. The expanse of the house was empty from wall to wall and from floor to sky. The hardwood floors shone with a newly waxed sheen, as did the walls, the banister and the ceiling. I knew immediately where I was and felt disoriented at the same time.

I soared around near the ceiling, circling and trying to find the source of the call. It ached inside me and I felt as though I couldn't fly because of its heaviness. Then I spotted the one furnished room. It held a large bed with elegant bedding that was flung haphazardly and hanging off one corner, a small desk and chair with a small brass lamp and a flat screen television mounted on the wall. He was there, pacing and distractedly running his fingers through his hair.

He reminded me of a caged golden panther... lean, chiseled and wound so tightly he could spring at any moment. His footsteps were heavy as he paced the floor, obvlious to his nakedness that was visible to anyone who cared to look through the wall of windows. I glanced outward and noticed the inky blackness of the meadow. There was no one near. The nearest indication of humanity were the twinkling lights in the distance.

He threw the phone across the room. The shattering sound reverberated in the silence when it hit the wall and fell to the ground in hundreds of pieces. He sat upon the bed, fingers laced in his hair and dark despair gurgling up from the depths of hell. I hovered near enough that I could feel its vibration and longed to sooth it. I want out! That thought was loud enough that it, too, filled the silence. With a growl that built to a scream, he suddenly sprung from his bed, charged to the edge of the room and leapt into air as though he were an Olympian diver, graceful and strong as I had seen him dive when we were younger.

My heart leapt to my throat as I rushed to the edge to witness him land easefully upon the hardened floor two stories down as though he had sliced into a pool. He curled into a ball, rolled and then sprawled on the gleaming floor. The stillness startled me and I rushed near his resting form. He laid on his side, the pent up emotions poured out through tears streaming down his face. I circled him intentionally, filling the ring with love, wishing I could touch him to let him know he was not alone.

As I circled, I flashed on his wife. She was writing him a note. All I could see was ...I'm taking the kids. You do what you want to do. I'm not interested in being your wi... I glanced around the house to find the note. It was on the floor by the fireplace downstairs. I blinked to the place where the paper lay impotently upon the ground. I touched the edge and it glowed. I could feel his recent touch on the paper. His heart was breaking and it was more than the impending divorce.

I returned to his side. He laid motionless on the floor, breathing slowly enough that it was barely perceptible. The tears had stopped. He still couldn't see me as I circled once more, casting another circle of love. When I stopped I could tell that he had sensed a change. I settled my feet upon the ground gently then slowly, ever so slowly, I laid down behind him without touching him, still in my angel form.

I felt him holding his breath as he slowly turned around to face the change he was sensing. His eyes were wide as he stared in my direction. I knew that he was seeing nothing but the room with his human eyes, but his soul recognized me. He startled me by reaching his hand toward where I lay, invisible in my angel's wings. I felt his hand enter my energy field and a startled, youthful grin crossed his face.

"Hello," he whispered.

His words shimmered me into the space in my human form and he lay still as he watched the metamorphosis. When I was fully present, we stood and faced one another. Somewhere during my appearance, he had acquired clothes and the house had acquired furniture. He reached out his hand to me and I reached to take it as the house began to fill with people ready to celebrate. What we were celebrating, I don't know, but he and I spent the rest of the night volleying between guests, ever watchful of the other.

Into the evening the party went until I was exhausted and retreated into a room where I could shut out the noise. Leaning against the door, I sighed and he walked into the room from a door on the right. He, too, had gone there for respite. We smiled one another, he walked toward me and as he took me in his arms, a guest came in from another room and slammed the door.

I was awake with tears running down my eyes into the pillow and missing him more than I've missed him in a very long time.

Waiting

I dreamt last night that I was back in Disneyland. It was crowded and the energy was high. The lines were long - longer than they were when we were really there. I remember weaving through the ropes... back and forth and back again... for seemingly forever. As I neared the front of the line, I realized it wasn't a ride at all for which I was waiting. I heard myself say to my friend, "I'm waiting in line to die."

I wanted to cry then. I want to cry now.

Wondering... where in my life am I simply waiting to die?

Outward

"Outward and Onward" - ©Angie K. Millgate 2009
I have a feeling building within me that is moving outward. I feel this culminating energy... the results of years of "keepin' on keepin' on" that is gaining momentum as I move forward, step by small step. I have a burgeoning excitement that seems to be simmering at all times. That, if I take a moment to go within, I can see her there, glimmering continually. At times, she gains fuel and spontaneously errupts into flame. At others, she patiently awaits and continues to provide gentle heat and light. I can feel I am on the right path as I watch my small efforts create huge waves. I can see the effects I am having on myself and the lives of those around me. I can see how my investment is beginning to return back to me.

I feel blessed to be aware enough of what I am creating to be able to witness it as I am creating it. I feel grateful that I am building an empire one patient brick at a time, especially since patience has rarely been a virtue I believed I possessed. I feel joy and peace filling the cells of my body as I watch people line up with me and behind me to go forward together. I see the shimmering outline of my vision coming together and that is a scene is jubiliant, indeed. I feel excited to be having revealed the answers to my long ago spoken questions. I feel anticipation for rounding the corner and into the vision I have held onto for years.

As I go forward faithfully, watching the bricks be laid and the pavers be set, I give thanks to the universe for supporting me, my mentors for going before me and myself for having the courage to do that which I know I must and, especially, for the times when I just keep going forward when I have absolutely no idea why or how.

TT - "In Your Room"

I dreamt of you last night and I realized, for the first time in my life, what it really feels like to be found.

I recognized the pull of energy, that sensation that whatever I am looking for is nearby. My skin prickled with recognition waiting to be realized and I raised my eyes in the direction of the pull. There you were. Your eyes met mine and lit up, just as I imagine mine did. You wended your way toward me, exuding such confidence and self-awareness that those you passed could not help but stop to gaze at you. You, however, were oblivious to them. You had your mark set and that was your only focus. Your mark was me.

You stepped before me, there amongst the crowds of people milling about in the lobby of some arena, and greeted me with assurance that it was your rightful place to do so. It seemed so natural, this meeting, and I knew from the first moment that my search, your search, our search was over.

Together we laughed and talked as if we had done so for lifetimes. We knew one another already, even though this was the first time we had laid eyes upon one another.

The crowds moved and we were swept up with the current of humanity. We were separated and I began the search with longing to find you again. I searched for hours, wandering the fair grounds, the parking lot, the hundreds of buildings and coloseums and auditoriums. Everywhere there were thousands of people, laughter, loud voices and, yet, inside me was silently still, focused. Everywhere I searched, I could feel you searching. I could feel you had been there, just before me. The sadness of separation tugged at me and continued to push me forward. Exhaustion. Sadness. Can't go another step.

My father found me sitting upon a bench, staring forlornly at the dying roses beside me. I imagined those rose bushes were once very stunning, but now mirrored my sadness with their wilting death, the petals dropping in a sprinkling of pink and yellow.

"He found us," Dad said. "Don't be sad. I know where he is."

I followed my dad feeling the sad longing turning to hopeful yearning. He threw open the gargantuan double doors of the building where you and I had first met and said, "He is over there. Go ahead."

He left me to find you on my own, certain that I could do so. Each row I tried to venture down led me to a dead end. I felt frustration mounting as I continued to go forward and then had to turn around to go back to where I started. I was in a maze. There was no cheese. And the noise? It was escalating. I covered my ears and closed my eyes. Silence. Darkness.

Then there was a light, not visible but magnetic. I moved toward it, weaving in and out of the crowd, ducking under the upraised arms of waiters holding trays loaded with full champagne flutes. I scooted around shuffling brawls and tipping barstools. I ignored the sound of the sportscaster blasting through the room announcing, Daddy's Pride is first by a nose!

And then, I found you. There you were, watching me find you, smiling broadly and sitting amongst my family as if you had always been there. Your blue eyes met mine and I knew that I was willing to be with you in your room forever.

Go! Go! Go!

My pattern in life, generally, is go, go, GO, GO, GO! GO! GO! CRASH!!! #$&$%*&$%$!

I know this about myself and it is something I am wondering about. Wondering how I can go through life more easefully.

Last night it played out in my dreams. It was an uncomfortable night with very little deep, healing sleep. I stayed near the surface, tossing and turning and never relenting to the cushion of repose. I dreamt of going, going, GOING! And then I would explode into bits. The bits would land as bizarre Seuss-like animals, ironically enough, and become lodged head-first in the walls and earth. When it would be time for me to leave the room I was in, I would have to gather all the parts and pieces of myself and figure out how to reabsorb these now-alien particles. Inevitably, an important part would be buried irretrievably and I would slink out of the room hoping no one would notice the mess I was leaving behind, nor the gaping hole that the missing piece would leave. Over and over it went. Room after room, I would leave behind one piece of me until I was a tattered mess, wobbling and unable to stand.

It's a fairly blatant message, I think.

And yet, I have no idea how to do it differently. I have asked this before and find myself asking it again and more often as of late... how do I do/be something differently if what I am doing/being - is all that I know? I would think that if I had access to different responses, I would have done that long ago. Yes?

I feel sad about the bits and pieces of me, which scatter upon the crash, that are getting irreparably damaged and resolutely lodged in areas wherein I cannot gather myself back into myself. I am evermore aware of the phantom limbs and guts which pain me, mostly because they are lost and alone in the wilderness desert I am journeying.

Perhaps that is why I feel so alone right now. Parts of me are scattered from hell to breakfast and beyond and I have no way of calling them in.

Ack... now I feel scared.

Longing

I dreamt last night of my life-long, best friend who died at about this time three years ago. I awoke with my heart aching to hear his voice, my eyes weeping and a loneliness so intense. I miss him...

Excerpt from my upcoming book, Above the Clouds...

~~~

“Pleased to meet you, Angie,” he said, still grinning. “I’m Tommy. We went to the same school in fifth grade. You were in Mr. Peterson’s class, but I was in the other fifth grade class.”

My jaw dropped to the ground and he chuckled at my reaction.

“Tommy?!” I quickly took in his appearance once again, even more startled by his good looks now that I knew who he was. “Oh my gosh! Wow!”

Not the most flattering words, I know, but what could I say? I was at a loss and completely breathless. All he could do was laugh.

“I have waited for this moment,” he said, still holding my hand, “the moment when we would meet again. I have kept track of you since you moved away and I saw you every now and then, but never approached you.”

I stared at him, speechless, until he continued. “So, now, here we are. And, Angie, I have to tell you ‘thank you’.”

“For what?” Besides being speechless, breathless and light‑headed, now I was curious. It was a delirious feeling.

“Thank you because you were the only one who was nice to me. You were the only one who never said mean things to me. You were the only one who made me feel like I was worth anything. Even though we never talked, you smiled. It made all the difference in my life. Because of you, I have been able to become the person I am today. And, I have loved you from the first time you did smile at me. So thank you.”

How do I respond to a person who has just changed my entire outlook on life? How do I explain my feelings after being told that I have had such an impact on a single person’s life without ever knowing it?

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision. I loved him at that moment, as strongly as I hurt for him when we were younger. From that moment, we became fast best friends and shared a unique love that no one could ever touch. We stuck together through everything and were always there to lift each other up, give a hug when needed, wipe away the tears, and laugh...a lot.

The Heat of You

The following post contains some graphic adult content. If you are under age, offended by graphic sexuality or of a religious persuasion that would frown on you reading such stuff, then turn back now. Consider yourself duly warned.

~~~

You held out your hand to me steady and beckoning. You smiled gently, a smile I have yet to see. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed into your eyes which glimmered with a blaze of certainty and confidence. I was curious about the gesture, about the look, about that smile.

Always trusting you to lead me where my soul longs to be led, I reach out and place my hand in yours. A familiar rush of energy courses through my body from the connection to you. I smile up at you, knowing you feel it too, and my eyes hold the answer to the question you have not spoken.

“Come with me,” you say and I shiver at the intensity vibrating in the depths of your voice. “Come with me to bed.”

My heart skidded to a halt and I could not breathe. All at once, my body was a liquid inferno. I felt my eyes grow wide with wonder and your hand grasped mine closely, encouraging me to move with you as you smiled reassuringly.

Ever so quietly you said, “Come with me to bed.” You place our hands against your chest. I feel your heart racing in connection with mine.

“Come with me to bed,” you whisper, yet again causing my heart to pound erratically, “I am going to make love to you.”

My lungs collapse with an instantaneous response of need, anticipation and wonder. You smile at me so broadly, so proudly, that I am certain my surprise is etched plainly on my face. I suddenly feel like a virgin, uncertain and scared, intrigued and curious.

I follow you toward the bed where we have slept soundly, platonically, together more times than I could count, my heart racing, my body already climbing to the summit. Standing beside the bed, you let go of my hand and turn to face me in the fully lit room. Breathless with longing, I watch you ease off your jacket and pull your shirt over your head. It was a move I have watched numerous times, yet this time it is different.

As you ease out of your shoes, socks and pants with effortless grace, my breath catches around the lump in my throat. I am startled to feel my eyes filling with tears as I gaze at the smooth beauty of you. Standing there before me, clad only in your biker briefs, the evident presence of your intent is proud and unquestionable. I swallow slowly, willingly taking in the sights of you as a lover would, for the first time in all these years of knowing you.

Still fully clothed, and feeling suddenly timid, I step out of my sandals and toward you, longing to feel the heat of you against me to melt away the shyness. Gently you reach out to stop me. Slowly you unzip my jacket and ease it off my shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Patiently, you unbutton the numerous buttons down the front of my dress until you are able to slide the sleeves off my shoulders and down my arms. It rests loosely around my waist and your eyes slowly take in the expanse of me exposed to your gaze. I lower my eyes afraid of the sudden intensity I feel within me and see mirrored in your eyes.

For the first time, you are free to look at me as a lover would and you take your time. My pulse rages solidly through my body and my shallow breathing causes my black lace clad breasts to visibly rise and fall. I hear your ragged, deep intake of air and glance up to find myself locked in your eyes, need surrounding us and filling the room.

Slowly, as though I were a bird you do not want to scare into flight, you reach out your hand and, with one nudge my dress falls to the floor in a black puddle at my feet. Your hand rests hot against my hip. I feel panic rise and lower my eyes, momentarily embarrassed to have you see me as a lover would. I feel afraid that you will see what I see when I look in the mirror. I am afraid you will no longer want me when you look at my truths.

The heat of your hand against my hip keeps me rooted in my body, in that space, although I want desperately to flee. For centuries you study me. Without looking up, I feel my body light up wherever your gaze lands. I feel the blush cover my body. Your hand rises from my hip and with one finger, you drag a trail of fire up the center of me. Along my belly. Between my breasts. Under my chin. Gently you nudge my chin upward.

Given no choice, my eyes meet yours and tears spill down my cheeks, hot and trembling. The fiery love in your eyes startles me and you smile that smile that tells me you have loved me for lifetimes, just as I have you.

“Come with me,” you whisper, your fingertips caressing my jaw, “you beautiful woman. Come with me.”

You toss the blankets back on the bed and ease yourself down, tugging at my hand and encouraging me to follow. I lay beside you, laying on my right side to face you. Our bodies touch full length on and I feel the solid hardness of you pulse hotly against me. My arousal bursts through me and from between my legs in a warm, fluid melt, readying me for the eventual welcoming of you.

In a billowing burst, you snap the white sheets up and over our heads, ensconcing us in a glowing bubble and shielding us from everything but us. Timidly, I cross my arms across my chest, putting them between us and securely placing my hands under my right cheek, as my left leg pristinely slides over my right to close off the heat I feel pulsing out of my center.

You smile at me, feeling my shyness, my need to protect myself. Shaking your head in a gentle manner, you slowly grasp my left wrist and pull at it until you place my hand against my left hip. Then, with firm and loving confidence you nudge my left leg and push against me until I am lying on my back, open and available to you. I am breathing deeply to keep from crying or bolting. You run your right hand through my hair as your eyes lovingly gaze into mine, and then trail your fingertips down my jaw and my neck until you rest your hand upon my shoulder.

The flame of need is hot in your eyes and you look at my breasts hungrily, allowing yourself to drink in the new sights as a lover. Slowly, finally becoming the lover, your hand eases beneath my bra strap and slides it down my shoulder. My hand has a will of its own as it reaches backward to unclasp the strap. You smile your thanks and my heart flutters as I wait for that first touch of you against my sensitive skin.

Without hesitation, you slide your hand under the gaping lace to touch me for the first time. We moan in unison and grin at one another, grateful for the ancient familiarity of us. Your hand caresses my breast and your thumb arouses my nipple to full attention. My juices tickle out of me in a hot rush and I ease my thighs apart imperceptibly.

You slide the bra off my body, baring me to your eyes and my breath catches in my throat. Slowly you dip your lips to reverently kiss each nipple in turn, a gentle kiss, yet it almost sends me over the cliff. I shudder, goosebumps rising along my body. You sigh with contentment and knowing and I shudder again.

As your lips continue to kiss my nipples, your hand begins the slow and tantalizing dance across my belly, in a swirling, soothing, arousing, delightful path. My concentration is fractured as you open your lips to lightly trace circles with your tongue around my nipple just as your hand slides under the lacy waistband of my panties. I am assailed with luscious sensations and anticipation. My legs part in conscious welcome.

You raise your mouth from my tight nipple and lock your eyes on mine. We have yet to kiss as lovers kiss and yet I am already yours for the taking, waiting for the touch that hovers just out of reach. I feel my fluids flowing freely, so hot against me. I feel my center gathering, waiting to explode. You stare at me as your hand continues its downward path.

There will be no closing my eyes. You hold my vision in a commanding gaze as your fingers brush through my pubic hairs and entertain my lips which are open to your touch. I moan. You sigh. You continue running your finger along the length of my lips, without entering, coaxing them to open further. Your touch glides smoothly through my fluids and your eyes burn into me. I am captive, breathless, found.

My center has opened to allow you full access to me. Slowly, you continue to tickle the edges of my lips then ease toward my clitoris. I gasp as you find her and introduce yourself to her with a gentle circle. She rises to greet you and my essence flows freely from me. You continue to circle her, coaxing me to full wakefulness and lower your lips toward mine, never breaking eye contact.

Then you hover there, waiting to seal the lover’s contract, your lips a hair’s breadth from mine. I moan with the sensations of your finger, your heat, your tantalizing nearness. Then you lower your lips to mine in a kiss so chaste it surprises me and is in direct contrast to your finger, which has intimately penetrated my center in an agonizingly slow, fluid movement.

I gasp, arching my hips up to take in the touch. You break the kiss and look back into my eyes as you take your first lover’s touch of my liquid heat. Burying your finger into the depths of me, you groan and your thumb finds my clitoris. Instantly, with breathtaking force, I am near the summit. I feel myself contract around you and you smile, knowing I am yours for the taking.

You lower your lips to mine again and take me full on as a lover would, sliding another finger inside me to send me teetering on the pinnacle. Your tongue dances with mine comfortably, a dance we have never danced before in this lifetime but one that comes to us from lifetimes beyond. You taste of earth and wine, exactly as I have always known you would and I cry into you, coming home to the command of your strength, our primordial and unending love.

There is no longer any fear or shyness as I reach toward you. You groan into my mouth and roll toward me, your fingers moving within me in the rhythm of life. You raise your lips with a reluctant moan and look into my eyes. Tears spill down our faces as we come home and you whisper, “I...”

Somewhere in the distance, a door slams. I open my eyes to find myself alone in the dawn. My body is on fire, open and aching for you.

I am alone.

It was only a dream.

TT - My First Memory

I was about 2 1/2 years old when I dreamt a dream that has stuck with me all this time. I was fearful at that time, I imagine, because I was getting ready to go in for surgery. I imagine I had heard my doctor talking with my parents about the particulars of a tonsilectomy. Since I had life-threatening illnesses that the medical world had tagged to my tonsils, it was, apparently, imperative to have them removed. I imagine for a child so young that the idea of "going to sleep and feeling nothing but when you wake up your throat will be sore" is scary. Heck! When I had my tonsils out the second time (welcome to my life) when I was seventeen, I was terrified!

At any rate, I was tiny and afraid. The night before my surgery, a pink, animated, stuffed elephant appeared to me in my dreams. This elephant stood as tall as me on its hind legs and spoke to me in quiet, loving tones. I remember hearing him say, "It's okay, Angie. I'm here with you and I will keep you safe."

Apparently my guardian angel is a personified Loony Toon.

Dream Building 101

For the first time since I got so deathly ill back in September, I returned to my Life Skills classes last night. I was blown away by how packed the space was. I would venture to guess there were about 50 people there. I remember the good ole days, over five years ago, when I was one of a core of regulars numbering five at the most, including me! I love that I started out before this got big, that I have got to watch it grow and leap and stretch. Doing so with them has done so for me in my personal life. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Megan for catching a vision twelve years ago and starting these classes. I am grateful for her willingness to forge on and for her partner, AnnaBeth, who became a co-teacher just as I ventured into their realm. The two of them see me!

Last night, we began a new series called "Dream Building." The moment I walked into the room, my body exploded in chivels. (Chivels are my own personal body experience, which developed last year. I am incredibly intuitive, with strong body signals, and whenever I am in a space of truth, or if someone speaks a truth, or I state a truth then my body explodes in all these signals at once. My nipples stand out [Wooohoooo! Gotta love that!!!], I get shivers and chills and this huge, sizzling energy zaps through me instantaneously. Thus, Chills+Shivers+Nips+Zap=Chivels) The coolest thing was that it did not stop for the whole night! It was a wild ride and such a rush. I knew I was in a space where something big was coming. I could see it in AnnaBeth and Megan, just simmering there, waiting to be uncorked.

We did an exercise wherein they played some very moving music and then we spent the time writing down things that came to our mind from our lives. Each thing was just a jotted note with a little dot that we would eventually connect to uncover any themes or patterns. As I began, I was, of course, sobbing because they chose to share the song that AnnaBeth is using for her personal epic journey right now, 10,000 Miles by Mary Chapin Carpenter. It's not so much the words for me, although they are amazing, it is more the sound of this song just goes deep into my soul. (I included a beautiful photo montage that someone has created with this song as the background for your listening/viewing pleasure.)

I was amazed at how fast the memories came at me. Little clips of my life coming as a frenetic slide show of images and sounds. I began with the thought that we would be eventually connecting the dots, although they didn't tell us that up front. Therefore, I wanted my picture to be pretty. I wanted to do it right. Thing is, it was all coming at me so fast, there was no way to organize it or make it form a pretty picture. So I just wrote.

Memories came at me first in the faces of the people I have loved. There they were all shining and beautiful before me. And then I would remember my life through them. These little pieces of who I am all a part of who I love. I wrote furiously, my page unclear through the tears. And it just kept coming.

Then they said, "Now connect the dots."

I blinked several times and stared at the page, trying to see something, anything in the pool of words and dots splashed upon my page. Then I felt led. Just move with it, I heard. So I did, fearing all the time that I was doing it wrong. This is what I did with it

I flowed with it. Each dot led me to the next and I just went with it. I didn't read what was beside each dot or think oh! That one is next! I gotta go there. I just moved and flowed through it, starting and ending at some random point. I discovered, in the end, that the random starting and ending points were actually not so random. They both were part of the same situation which happened in the middle of my life lived to this point. I love the perfection of the Universe and the way the messages happen...

So I stared at the completed project, seeing no pattern, no picture, no themes. I felt angry. I did it wrong. Mine's not working. Which, in and of itself, was a very familiar pattern for me. Then my dear friend sitting next to me said, "Yours is so flowy. I like how it leads from one dot to the next in a smooth, flowing pattern. Mine feels all jaggedy." I looked at hers and at others around me. I saw many kindergarten Christmas trees and shapes that looked like angry bam!s from cartoons...

I saw a heart and a few circles. But nothing looked like mine. Mine's different. I did it wrong.

Mine's different. I did it wrong.

So sad, this propensity of mine to make my uniqueness, wrongness.

I stared at my picture, loving the dancing feel of it and the loop-de-loop appearance. I liked my picture, but it wasn't really a picture. It was simply a looping, curvy line that led from one dot to the next.

Then Megan said, "Close your eyes. I am going to ask you a question and I want you to jot down the very first thing that comes to your mind when I do."

I closed my eyes immediately, trusting her to guide me safely. She waited until the room was quiet and then asked, "What have you been preparing your whole life to do?"

The first thing that came to me was...

a white expanse with black horizontal lines???

I immediately went into analyzing mode. What could this possibly mean? Is that a blank sheet of paper? Does it mean I have been meant to write????

On and on it went, this analyizing. Until I realized that Megan was talking and I was completely out of the exercise, out of my body, out of the room.

I brought it home and asked myself the question. I made it first person and was stunned with the answer.

"What have I been preparing my whole life to do?"

L E A D!

What the hell?! I am not a leader! I am a follower. WHAT?!

In fact, I even commented to Tewkesbury on one of my recent blogs, that very thing, "I have a story, though, that I am more of a follower rather than a leader. You set up a party, I'll be there, but I will be damned if you ask me to plan it - sort of thing. It is, of course, mostly a story. A cover up, if you will. Cuz, in the end it all boils down to the fact that I'm just a great big scaredy cat."

I am here to LEAD?!

Then I looked at my picture and I remembered my feelings, that this line led me from one event/person to the next. I remembered that I have always felt that I have been led and that I am where I am because I am supposed to be. I remembered that each moment has felt as though it was designed to lead me to the next. I remembered my friend saying that she felt like she was led through my life just by looking at the picture.

Tears and chivels.

I shared my experience with the group and AnnaBeth said, "Angie, I appreciate you sharing that because it really does take guts to stand up for who you are. As humans, we tend to say that we are not actually what we are because it is really damn scary to be who we are sometimes. It can be really scary to be who you are meant to be."

And then Megan said, "Ang, I know for a certainty that it takes the best follower to be the best leader and that the best leaders know when to lead and when to follow and they do both."

In my life

Things I experienced this weekend...

- Snowflakes as big as silver dollars and just as heavy.
- Thick sheets of snow sliding off the roof and falling in a heavy wall of white over and over and over, creating a slide show effect of light and dark.
- A ten-month-old’s delight in witnessing his first snow storm, the wonder as he turned his face to the sky and thrilled to the feel of the icy flakes kissing his cheeks and gathering on his eyelashes.
- Driving northward and peering east and west across the valley, across endless open fields, being unable to see either mountain range which frame the Salt Lake valley and hearing my daughter pipe up from the back seat, “Toto, it appears we aren’t in Utah anymore.”
- The feel of my daughter’s warm hand in mine as she leaned her head on my shoulder drowsily then looked up at me with sky blue eyes and sighed, “I love you, Momma.”
- A snowman built in someone’s front yard all tipsy and skeewompas, leaning backward as if it were going to fall over, with his hat askew. At his feet was an empty case of beer and empty beer cans strewn about the yard.
- A twelve-inch snowman frozen solid atop a taxi.
- Laughing so hard I almost peed over family jokes that no one gets but us.
- A seven-month-old baby fighting to figure out crawling, her frustration and anger when no one would pick her up and her determination to figure it out, although she continually landed on her face.
- Feelings of responsibility for my mother and my aunt... I don’t want either of them sitting alone at home, feeling lonely.
- A warm hug that was long enough I actually wondered when it would end and then wondered at myself for wanting to flee from the experience too soon.
- A zit on my chin so big it felt like I was growing a goiter.
- A silly text message that said: >8< >8< >8< These are money bees. Pass this on to eight people and you will receive hidden money in four days. I’m not kidding. And I actually read it and rolled my eyes before I hit delete.
- Feeling so tired that I was certain I would be asleep before my head hit the pillow and then discovering, two hours later, that that was not the case.
- The movie The Ultimate Gift for the fourth time and found myself crying, yet again.
- A dream of yearning for the one whom I yearn for way too often and waking with tears standing in my eyes.
- Gratitude for life, family, my daughter and love. I am a blessed woman.

Chocolate Dreams

Yesterday as I was getting ready to go to the family party, I glanced at my nightstand and noticed a chocolate bar sitting there that hadn't been there the day before. Hmmmm... strange. I stared at it, wondering where it had come from and then I remembered...

It is a lucsious "real" chocolate bar that my mother had purchased from our favorite fair trade store. She had given it to me in my Halloween gift bag. It was in the cute little gift bag that sat on the floor by my nightstand because there is nowhere else to put anything in the petite guest room in which I now reside. Everything goes on the floor or in the garbage or on stacks which get perilously high until they topple to the floor or the garbage.

That chocolate bar had sat there in the bag on the floor beside my bed, in front of the nightstand forgotten since Halloween until I had dreamt that I was searching for something the other night. In this dream, I remember frantically longing to find whatever it was I needed. Perhaps my subconscious still remembered the chocolate bar, wrapped in muted gold, elegant paper to make it look even more luscious than it already is, was in that gift bag and, thus, prompted the dream that sent me searching.

I was sleep walking as I dreamed and searched, because I remember throwing the fancy tissue paper out of the gift bag until my fingertips brushed against something solid. I pulled out the large bar and held it close to my face. Through my closed eyelids - or perhaps through my detached observer - the gold paper shimmered in the darkness and I thought, "Ah! It's gold!" I sat it upon the nightstand for safe keeping until the morning so I could get it to the bank to cash it in.

Dreamt

I dreamt of a time when life was sweet

And my eyes saw what others did not
I dreamt of a time when I was complete
And I knew what I knew when I thought
I dreamt of a time when I flew so high
And I knew without a doubt I was brilliant
I dreamt of a time when life moved with a sigh
And I felt and I heard and I fullfilled it
I dreamt of a time when magic prevailed
And I stood in the strength of my insight
I dreamt of a time when I never ever failed
And I woke with my heart aching inside


~akm 11/28/07

Visiting the Neighborhood

Clang-Clang-Clang!

It was the Trolley, announcing it’s arrival and impending departure for the Neighborhood of Make Believe. Remnants of the theme song floated on the air…

Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Won't you please,
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?

Momentarily, I pause. What the hell? Why am I in Mr. Roger’s house???

It’s only a breath I take before, suddenly, being there seemed quite normal. Trolley scooted forward and back on the track, clanging with each sudden lurch. I rushed to slip on my canvas shoes and glanced down at my feet. They looked like Cardinals staring up at me. I slid my arms into the crimson cardigan, buttoning it haphazardly and without care that it was lopsided.

I approached Trolley and reach out my hand to it. Somehow I shrink to fit inside, or Trolley grows exponentially to allow me to board because I find myself sitting comfortably upon her stiff chairs, the only passenger aboard Trolley. The only person, actually. There was no engineer but that was less troublesome than the tunnel looming ahead.

As a child, that tunnel had held curiosities for me. Why don’t they let us go with them through the tunnel? What is in there? What does it look like?

I was now about to find out and I was none too pleased. With a Clang-Clang and a lurch, we were off with the happy tinkling sounds of Trolley’s music following along behind us. The tunnel was so dark I could not breathe and in a blink, I was spit out into the Neighborhood of Make Believe in a light so brilliant, I could not see.

Brushing myself off and attempting to right my crooked, crimson cardigan, I stood up and gazed about me. I was at the castle of King Friday and Queen Sara. With trumpets blaring, King Friday approached me and bleated something inconsequential and completely false. Rather than pointing out the obvious error and feeling fear of retribution, I lowered my eyes and followed protocol.

“Correct as usual, King Friday,” I muttered with as much regal decorum as I could muster.

I wanted to kick myself for having lied to myself and the world and for allowing his false prophesies to continue. Ashamed, I stared down at my cardinal canvas Keds and shuffled from foot to foot, as I tugged at my crooked crimson cardigan. I wanted to be gone, my shame was so intense.

As King Friday blathered on and on I sidled away from there, hoping with all my heart to avoid Lady Elaine Fairchilde because I was still horrified by her, a lingering childhood terror. I came to the Tree and, although I could not remember who dwelled there, I knew it was not Lady Elaine and I would be fairly safe. I lay down upon the prickly plastic grass and wrapped myself around the base of the tree, hoping for protection and wondering why my crooked crimson cardigan was suddenly sopping wet.

I opened my eyes, the mists fading away, to find myself protectively fetal, curled around myself and swimming in a pool of sweat. I sat up, dripping and disoriented, the words, “Correct as usual, King Friday,” ringing through my ears.

I wondered in my haze, how many times I had lowered my eyes to hide what I know to be true from those who speak falsely.

Thus are the ramblings of a feverish mind... hour upon hour upon hour... without relief... seemingly without end.