Dreamtime Excursions

 

Thursday, June 13, 2013; 0858

On this Thursday Morning it is ‘Perfect For:’ Recharging; Yoga; New Beginnings Radio.

I really, really <3 iHeart Radio. I should be a spokesperson.

Though selections like this are always available I don’t usually choose them. But this morning it was needed.

I took a lil break from writing and there was purpose in that. Mostly, it was a timing thing. Even though I spent more of the past 48 hours awake then I have had any kind of sleep, there just wasn’t a time that seemed appropriate to sit down and write. I thought about it a few times. I believe I even sat at the desk once or twice. But, it just wasn’t time.

Also, I needed to monitor myself. The earlier part of these past 48 hours found me very fired up. I didn’t want to sit and write in that condition because when I am fired up, I write like I talk. In circles. My brain bounces from point to point. I can illustrate and demonstrate and prostate…oh no wait…

The point being I can drone on and on for hours and only really get to a few direct points. Writing so much and saying so little.

(And THIS is news?)

I want to address the events that transpired, but I want to do them justice. I do not just want to ramble and prattle. I want to find a productive point in them.

However, this morning finds me needing to journal something else before I can even think of going down that avenue.

Last night I had two dreams. This is significant for several reasons. It’s been a long time since I could recall in such vivid detail. In fact, it’s been a long time since Dreamtime has been so vivid and real. It truly was like being in another world, another life. The Astral Plane perhaps.

They both left a permanent impact on me for, at least, the rest of my day. A good part of this was the intensity with which they came on, but, also it has a lot to do with the subject matter.

The first almost seems a happy tale. Until waking brings the reality of it’s non-existence and impossibility.

It finds me in an apartment. Me. In an apartment, a home of my own. It was not some plain, simple apartment either. The best association I can give you is to picture some Manhattan, high-rise, wealthy apartment as we have seen time and time again in the movies. Large, spacious, nicely designed, and a view to die for.

There was a party, but before the party there was something else. The details of this are vague. The one I remember is the only important one. She was there.

She, being ‘The Girl.’ She is the one I love. In fact, now that I have known love for her I know that She is the only one I have ever truly loved. I loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her and it has never gone away. Though She has. She was the one, my Zing.

A few years ago I held in my hands the very thing I long for today and I let it slip through my fingers. I didn’t even let it slip…I threw it. I threw it as far as I could throw it. If there is to be one regret I take to my grave, that will be it.

We do not speak today. The closest thing to associating we do is, perhaps, reading each other’s FB posts. I have oft times contemplated unfriending her (again) because the pain and emptiness I feel when I read her name or see her picture is too much to bear. And yet I don’t, because it will forever be the closest I can come to knowing her again.

Recently, in my own half-assed and insecure way, I expressed my undying and, obviously, unrequited love to her. Very often her posts are about sadness and frustration and loneliness. I do not have much to offer her, but the one thing She would never go without is love. Other than my daughters I have never felt my soul want to hold and envelope another the way it longs for her.

But, nonetheless, She was there. We talked. Then She was gone. In comparison to the rest of the vision, which was short enough itself, this moment was but a flash in the pan. I do not know what we talked about.

In the next ‘scene’ I am having a party. Quite the affair from what I could tell. People everywhere – laughing and talking and even dancing.

**On a side note: there was a person there whom I had pointed out to another guest as someone they should talk to (about dancing??). This is interesting because he is an associate of mine. I like him. I just have lost most of my respect for him and I haven’t looked back since.**

Again…nonetheless…There was another young man there. An auburn headed gent. Can’t say I saw his face, but I can say I know no such person. I don’t know how we began to talk but I do know what he was saying.

“She is coming. She misses you. She is on her way.”

And then, as quickly as turning around, She was there. A quick and fleeting montage of images later, I am walking her to the door. We are talking. But nothing is different. We did not broach the subject.

We got to the door. We opened it. She stood, so close, her back to the door. Then it happened. A kiss and embrace like none I have ever seen nor experienced. Impassioned.

Then I was awake. Fully aware that this was never going to be. Yet, as I lay my head back upon my pillow I found a slight smile sneaking its way across my lips. For I felt blessed and content that, even if it were just in a dream, I was able to have that moment. The kiss that never was.

(Oh, Peter…you silly ass!)

The second Dreamtime Vision was not nearly as pleasant and is the one that could leave me shaking for the rest of my day. You see, I have been shaking all over since I woke up. (If waking up is what you want to call it.)

Again, it was an apartment and a gathering. But not my own this time. In fact, I know who none of these people were. I do not know why I was there and I found no connection to anything until things began to happen.

So, the party is taking place and conversation is happening. I do not know what it was about until they all start talking about ‘in there.’

Something happened ‘in there.’ None of them really wanted to go ‘in there.’ Whatever was ‘in there’ was a source of great discomfort for all of these people.

Yet, for whatever reason, it was determined that someone had to show me ‘in there.’ I was walked down a hallway. A door was opened and I was looking at what seemed to be a bedroom. A very long, and abandoned, bedroom. No windows that I can recall and I only remember a bed or some other piece of furniture from moments that follow. A closet on the left side of the room.

I was led to the closet. Was this the ‘in there’?

Before I knew what was happening the doors flew open and I was on the ground. There was no one or nothing there. I was reliving someone else’s moment.

[Incidentally, not a new experience for me. Nor one that is limited to Dreamtime.]

I was being attacked. I felt such panic and such fear. So much pain and mental anguish. My head actually hurt when I was awake again. It was now that my friends’ faces appeared to me. I still do not understand their connection to all of this. But in the Dreamtime it was all about them. In particular – her. (not She.)

So much panic. So much emotion. I cried. I screamed. My hands tensed and fingers curled as I scraped and clutched and clawed at the floor to get away. I was being raped.

But it was not me that was being raped. It was her. I was just reliving it. There was no one there. No one on top of me or attacking me. But I was living it as if there were.

The person who initially had led me to the room ran and got someone else. It was this person that, amidst the panic and the writhing, I was able to confirm.

“Is this…is this where she was…?”

“Yes.”

The pain increased. This was when my hands tensed and fingers curled. This is when I tried desperately to escape. I screamed and I begged and I pleaded.

“Help me…help me…help me get out of here…”

And that is when I popped awake.

I have had many extraordinary Dreamtime Excursions – some beautiful, or amazing, or ,yes, even frightening. None has ever left the impact on me as this one did. I still shake all over. I am still working out the knots in my stomach and trying to brush away the mental anguish of it all.

I do not know if my friend was indeed ever raped at all. I do not understand any connection or message. But I feel I must pursue and investigate. Whatever was ‘in there’ must be put to rest. I just do not know how to go about it. What do I do? Call my friend and just ever so nonchalantly ask, “Hey…were you ever raped?”

My only other thought, nay concern, on the matter is that I hope it has no connection to the house cleansing I must do tonight which does involve the removing of a spirit.

But then, why would my friends be attached to the vision?

Well, for now, I must take my leave and do what I must do for my day. The other tales will just have to wait.