Before I start – I’d like to advise that Mr Spacey is one of my favorite actors of all time – and this dream has absolutely nothing to do with the actor or his career. Males appear in a woman’s dream as an animus – either as a depiction of her relationship to them or as a masculine aspect of her own persona.
I had this dream this morning (my dreams usually happen in the morning!)
I was at some house that belonged to a crazy couple – who were both men and one was in drag. (Very bad drag, I might add.) They were standing next to each other and the “husband” had his arm around the “wife”. They were being silly and cracking jokes about couples – generally making fun of them by way of parody. Then one of them (I can’t remember who) went off to conduct his beauty regime – which consisted of a massive smear of cold cream across the face.
He kept saying how great the product was and that I had to tell Kevin Spacey – of all people. So I went to a very posh condo and went up the elevator to Mr Spacey’s room. He couldn’t come to the door, so he yelled out for me to wait. It didn’t take long for him to come to the door – completely naked – carrying a briefcase!
I gave him the message about the cold cream and he became wildly excited about it. He said “Let’s go!” and ran ahead of me, down a narrow, white staircase which lead directly to a large swimming pool (inside the building.) There was blue tiling everywhere and he jumped in – up to his knees – wading through to the other side. He continued raving about the cold cream as he made his way across the pool – waving the briefcase in the air as he went. He was ecstatic and shouting like a wild man.
I had made my way to the other side of the pool and was embarrassed seeing his “proverbials” flapping about – but he didn’t seem to care – as he was so joyous! Suddenly a man came out of nowhere and I yelled a warning to Mr Spacey. He immediately dove under water and pretended to be swimming. I was worried that the other man would see that he was naked.
THEMES: Fun, parody, couples, gender, promotion, being open and revealing, excitement, public persona, shame.
SYMBOLS: Cold cream, drag, nakedness, briefcase, pool, underwater, blue (tiles), luxury.
EMOTIONS: Humor, excitement, happiness, shame/embarrassment.
ARCHETYPES: Couples (husband and wife – parody), Man in drag, Famous public figure, naked man.
INTERPRETATION: I’m kind of at a loss to explain the parody of a couple – by two men, one in drag. A long time ago – I did believe that I would never get married and thought it was a load of horse-hockey! Now that I have a husband (we both waited until we were mature to marry – ha ha!) – I don’t see marriage as bogus and am very happy for that. The couple could be representing ‘partnership’ or it could simply be my subconscious reminding me how I used to think the idea was stupid.
The man smearing the cold cream across his face was still being silly when he did it – but he was sincere when he said that it was the best cold cream. It looked like someone had smacked him across the face with a thick wad (pardon the pun!) of white paint. White is a common color for me at the moment – even though white is technically not a color – but the absence of color. It symbolizes purity, or maybe a blank canvas – or even being ‘white-washed’. I would say that as it was across the face – it indicates the facade I’m putting out there in public. Maybe it’s my inner-self telling me that everything’s going to be okay with what I’m doing, having said – over and over – that it was great and that I had to tell someone (Mr Spacey) about it.
Mr Spacey represents the public – and how I’m trying to get people excited about my books and numerology business. (Which is funny – as a long time ago – I sent him a Numerological profile – when I had first started out and was so naive!) Being naked symbolizes baring your all in public – and the fact that he didn’t care, maybe showed how I should be. He was carrying a briefcase – which represents business – a receptacle holding your ‘work’. The fact that he was flailing it about wildly probably denotes how I feel sometimes, when it comes to marketing and promotion.
When the other man came along – it seemed like the ‘cop’ inside me – coming to see what was going on. When I turned and told Mr Spacey (therefore, my masculine self) about the other man, he dove underwater and pretended he was swimming. This has a lot to do with how I downplay what I’m doing with my book etc – when talking to others. I am a typical Aussie when it comes to downgrading my ego and making fun of myself. Maybe the dream was trying to show me how I make fun of myself – therefore belittling myself and what I’m trying to do in life.
The fact that he was first treading the water – and then underneath – also shows how usually I’m fine and above being emotional or too ‘precious’ about myself – until someone else is looking. Then I pretend that I’m just like everybody else, nothing special etc.
SUMMARY: I have to swallow the bitter pill of being too precious about myself and my ‘wares’. I have to stop playing down all my achievements and back it all up with a healthy dose of ambition and confidence. Low self esteem does tend to hold me back sometimes, so I need to keep doing what I’m doing, think of the bigger picture and stop trying to hide. I have to develop a thicker skin and just charge ahead. I can still be sensitive to other’s needs – but I have to remember my own needs as well. When it comes to my attitude to my marriage – it’s solid and we have a lot of fun together. I just think my past was flushed out to show how wrong I’d been. My husband is very supportive of me and I thank and love him deeply for it!
I had this dream this morning. I was watching a prawn emerge from it’s shell, on the beach and then it was like time-lapse photography. It slowly but surely baked in the sun – bubbling and becoming crisp – but not moving. Then it ‘de-cooked’ – again via reverse photography and started burrowing – head first into the sand, leaving it’s shell behind.
I then went over to play in the shallows of the ocean, and dove underwater. I saw some abandoned toy soldiers and reached out to grab them – at first quite excited to have found some treasures.
I noticed that they were faded and somehow were meant to stay in the water. I unearthed some toy tanks and again became excited, only to realize – once more – that they were abandoned and of no use to me.
I put them back with the soldiers and just lay there – underwater – looking at them, with no emotion.
Then I was walking down my old street where I used to live in Australia, and saw what used to be my house – with a lush garden and huge, white flowers growing along the side of the house. I wondered how they could have grown so big.
I went up to the front steps and was talking with my husband and my grandson – when I heard something in the front yard, around the corner of the patio. When I went down the steps to look, I saw a man in a small car, driving around haphazardly in the front yard. When I went up to talk to him – I thought at first that he was a policeman. We got into an argument about the legality of changing address too many times. He said that he had checked me out and found that I had moved too many times. When I took a good look at him, I realized that he was just a security guard. When I pointed this out – he giggled mischievously and drove off.
THEMES: Ageing, evolving/devolving, transformation, survival, old emotions, new beginnings, authority, defense.
SYMBOLS: Prawn/shrimp (sea creature), Shedding skin, giant flowers, ocean/underwater, army toys, car
EMOTIONS: Battle of wits, being dispassionate, melancholy, excitement, wonder.
ARCHETYPES: Husband, Grandson, Security guard.
INTERPRETATION: Seeing the prawn emerge from it’s shell represents shedding skin – becoming a new person. Sea creatures symbolize the depths of the ocean – water is emotion – so it could be the evolution of my emotional self. Seeing it cook symbolized ageing – and then seeing it with a second life expressed how I feel with getting older and trying to start a new phase. The fact that it burrowed under the sand represented how I have been feeling of late – that it’s all too much and I just want to hibernate. (I have been doing a lot of promoting and marketing for my book and business – and it’s starting to take its toll on me!)
Being in the shallows of the ocean symbolizes – possibly – a shallow disposition. This could represent feelings of guilt – in an emotional sense – regarding not spending enough time with my family. However – seeing the toy soldiers and tanks could mean that I don’t need to ‘wage war’ anymore – that the time for battle is over. The fact that they were underwater (emotions/subconscious) and that I unearthed them – excited at first – then realizing that I didn’t want them, showed that I have outgrown my need for combat or even anger.
Visiting my old house and seeing the large, white flowers could represent melancholy and feelings of regret. White represents purity – even death – and the fact that the flowers were white and huge could show deep seated feelings of forgotten or ignored elements regarding the family. It could even symbolize hope and new beginnings.
Being on the patio with my husband and grandson shows my relationship with men and the males in my family – and how I interact with them. The security guard may have represented myself – my animus – still trying to inject negativity or flush out more guilt – over having moved. (Especially overseas – away from my family.) Discovering that he was not a policeman, but a security guard – a giggling fool as well – shows how I needn’t take my self-loathing too seriously. Being negative without warrant can be corrosive – however I do recognize that I have to make peace with others.
SUMMARY: It’s time for me to accept getting older and making it a positive rather than a negative. I have the power to transform – and even though it’s a good idea to take a break and rest every now and then – it’s all worth it. I am entering a phase where I don’t feel so defensive and do not have the chaos in my life that I used to. I have learned not to attack or to be so negative – which is a blessing. I need to be excited about things that will help me grow – and disregard those things that drag me down – and interfere with my evolution.
I had this dream this morning – strangely I don’t remember what else happened in it. I was back in Adelaide (Australia) – at my son’s place – at the end of a long, dark hallway. I was sweeping sand out the front door, and it didn’t matter how methodical I was – I couldn’t get rid of all the sand. Every time I looked behind me, there were still small mounds of sand. When I became aggressive with my sweeping, I saw that there was still a fine layer of sand still on the floor.
I remember thinking about the futility of it; that no matter what, people would still be dragging in more sand – on their shoes and clothes – but I kept on sweeping regardless. Then I was in a grocery store – in the refrigerated aisle – when I saw a black man (the bus driver who takes me to work every day!), up on a ladder and cleaning out the grime and grease from some machinery in the ceiling.
He was using his fingers to clear out the filth in the grooves and little shelves in the compartment. I asked him to stop and put some gloves on, as he could make himself sick. He just looked down at me – smiling and shaking his head – then continued doing it. I was worried about him transferring the filth to his mouth, but he wouldn’t listen to me.
THEME: Cleaning and sweeping, Concern, Futility.
SYMBOLS: Broom, sand, hallway, door, supermarket, ladder, dirt.
EMOTIONS: Concern, frustration.
INTERPRETATION: Cleaning and sweeping represent a desire to clear away old debris; clearing a path, putting things in order, correcting a mistake or problem, desire to reveal what’s underneath. The Buddhists say that cleaning your Dharma mirror (or whatever you’re cleaning) – means that you are sorting out your crap, basically – paving your way to enlightenment in order to reach Nirvana.
I was using a straw broom – which is a symbol of domesticity. It’s also a symbol for witches. (I have been a Hedgewitch for a long time!) Maybe it could mean that I have to use another method for sorting out my crap – or even – that the methods I’m using are not working? Sand can be symbolic of many things. In this dream I was in Adelaide (my son lives near the beach) – and it could be regarding my relationship with him – or being away from Australia. Clearing out past mistakes, paving a way back home, or reconstructing how I feel about my family.
Sand – and the shore – can be thought of as a threshold to other worlds, as they border the ocean. A grain of sand in an hourglass represents the sands of time. I know that I have a deep desire to turn the clock back – as the theme of aging has been prominent in my life lately. Turning around and seeing more sand behind me – tells me that no matter what – it will always be there. That’s where the futility re: continuing the process of getting rid of it comes in.
A hallway symbolizes an avenue to somewhere. In the Mansion of the Soul analogy – it represents a path to somewhere – or a holding/waiting area, that led to a door to the outside. Sweeping the sand out the front door – from the hallway – might show that I dither about, wasting time in a holding pattern – when I should move on and forget about what I can’t change.
A supermarket is a public place where you go to purchase sustenance. Probably representing my public persona – or how I deal with the public? A ladder has many connotations – such as – moving up the ladder (the man was at the top); bad luck for the superstitious; a portal or passage to another dimension etc. The man – as animus – could symbolize the masculine part of myself. The fact that he was black does not escape me. I have an Aboriginal (also Chinese, Welsh and French) heritage – so maybe that hints at my background or ‘native’ sense of self.
He ignored me and laughed when I showed concern for getting his fingers dirty. This could mean that I have a tendency to put myself in dangerous situations – blithely unaware that I could be doing myself harm. It could also be telling me to stop worrying about the small details – or even shying away from the dirty jobs in my life. As I’ve recently been sick – it could be telling me to stop being ignorant in regards to my health. This is a common theme for me lately!
SUMMARY: I need to stop worrying about things I can’t change – and start worrying about the things I can change! Again – putting the past behind me and to accept that time is marching on. I need to take more risks – being careful in the process. I need to stop procrastinating and try different methods for the evolution of my psyche. In order to properly integrate, I need to accept what is and work on what isn’t. Time to move on and be brave.
I had this dream yesterday – but was so tired last night after work – so I’m posting it late!
In the dream, I was walking down a road on an overcast day. I saw a gang of animals heading towards me on the footpath. There was a dog (pitbull), some cats and a strange, floating pinecone with an owl’s face peering out of the front. (The pinecone was horizontal, flying low.) It was a fantasy creature obviously – but in the dream I was mystified – trying to find out what kind of creature it was.
One of the cats was white with ginger patches. It had a large paper bag attached to one of its’ back legs – as though it had worn the bag for pants, but had stepped out of one of the leg holes. The leg was poking out of the other side of the bag – and was bloodied and broken. When I got closer to try and help it, I noticed that it was distressed – but it kept floating along with the other animals.
The dog seemed protective of the cat – but at first I thought that it was responsible for the cat’s injuries. Then I realized that the cat had been in a car accident and that it was quite old. When I tried to pick the cat up – it felt like a bag of bones. It purred when I petted it and I tried to help – but I wondered if the purring was just a stress reaction. I decided to follow it home to see if I could alert the owner and once we got to its’ house – the owner showed up.
She was an older hippy woman who pulled up in an old, white car that was beaten up and neglected. There were dirty, stuffed animals along the back window of the car. She was concerned about the cat – who was now lying on the grass in the front yard – waiting to be attended to.
THEME: Concern, dealings with animals, travelling, old and beaten up.
SYMBOLS: Cat, Dog, Strange creatures, road, car, stuffed animals, paper bag, injuries.
EMOTIONS: Concern, compassion, confusion.
ARCHETYPES: Old woman, animals.
INTERPRETATION: Some of this was obvious to me – as I’ve said in my previous dream interpretation – I’ve been feeling old and beat up lately! Walking down the road in the middle of the day – travelling through middle age. (The road was sloping slightly downwards.) The animals coming towards me represent various elements of my psyche wanting to be analyzed – or the process of the integrated self. For example: the dog was in good health but had a twinge of pink on its’ nose – hence the reason why I’d thought it had bitten the cat’s leg.
The other cats were fine – ambling along – but the old, injured cat represents how I’ve been feeling of late. I don’t know if it was jet lag or a virus – but I’ve been very tired for the last couple of weeks and have had strange symptoms – such as sore hips, stiff joints and glands swelling up. I think the flimsy bag on the cat’s leg symbolizes my haphazard attempts at taking care of myself! I try to soldier on and tell everyone that I’m fine when I’m not – for fear of appearing old and feeble.
The pinecone owl stumped me at first – but then I realized that it represented the mystical or spiritual side of myself that I’m still trying to understand. The pinecone symbolizes seeds spent – therefore old age. (I’m not dead yet – at 48!!) The owl is a nocturnal animal – so am I. It also represents wisdom and secret worlds – so maybe the fact that it was half-pinecone means that I’m entering the realm of the crone. (It’s funny – as I’ve always loved pine trees and owls!)
I think the lady also represents myself. The car symbolizes how I travel through life. (Roughshod and breakneck – sometimes!) The stuffed animals in the back window could symbolize aspects of myself that have taken a back seat – or have been neglected.
SUMMARY: Again – to slow down and take care of myself – but also, to acknowledge the hidden aspects of my true self. I need to accept getting older and rejoice in this new phase. I have been leaning away from spirituality over the past few fears – towards atheism. Maybe the mystical realms don’t have to be necessarily attached to a religion per se. Nonetheless – I have been feeling the lack of connection to that side of myself. Time to explore!
I’ve had a short break from writing this memoir and listened to some audiobooks – memoirs that others have written, in order to get a feel for how different people see their lives and how they relay their stories. I can be quite anal at times, but found myself feeling lost in the stories that flooded up from my subconscious – struggling to put them in order, trying to figure out how to structure the memoir and what format to use. Should it be a dream like kaleidoscope along the lines of a surrealistic novel? Should I break it up into a collection of poetry, or even create a saga or edda-like monstrosity that takes the reader on a crazy voyage? (I don’t think my life has been that fantastic!)
I’m very mindful of not allowing this to be one of those poor pitiful me “I will survive” stories, but then I had to face what my motivation was to write it in the first place. I have, of late, been struggling with the idea of getting older. I hate that I’ve passed the forty year mark, although I don’t know what I expected – to stay young forever? If I’m honest with myself – I really don’t want to go back to when I was twenty – or thirty. I’m emotionally and financially in a much better place now. Would I like to have my youthful appearance back? Sure – who wouldn’t? So is that what it is? Fear of aging? Probably.
The idea of death creeping up is not a nice thought. However, I resolved my fear of death in my twenties. We will all die and that is that. I also realized a long time ago that death can come at any age so there’s no point worrying about it – better to live your life like there’s no tomorrow, and so on. No, what really gets to me is the idea that time is running out and I haven’t achieved all that I assumed I had set out to do. Writing this memoir has been wonderful for so many reasons, but the glaringly obvious thing is that there is still so much that I want to experience and do – and most importantly, that after all is said and done, I AM NOT WHERE I THOUGHT I WOULD BE WHEN I WAS YOUNG!
I could comfort myself with thoughts such as – “Well, who is!?” or “Whose fault is that!?” It sounds defeatist to say that I am disappointed with myself and my life. I am grateful that I am not living in a war torn country or that I did not have anywhere near as bad a life as a lot of people do. If I’m going to be negative, I would say that I am ashamed of some of the things I’ve done and that I’m embarrassed, sad and full of regrets.
But if I’m going to be positive I would say that I am proud of who I’ve been, what I survived and how I made people feel, what I’ve accomplished and how my life evolved. After all, it’s all about perspective. I remember when I was fifteen and at my grandparent’s house for my birthday. My Uncle, who was coming down off a heroin habit, gave me a card with an inscription that read “Ah, the Sweet Bird of Youth, flies too fast!” At the time I didn’t get it, but as the years rolled on, I could hear those words, spoken in his cracked voice, and I would smile ruefully to myself.
All of a sudden, here I am, punishing myself with regrets over what I could’ve done better, what I should have done by now and what I should not have done at all. But the lesson learned is not to continue to squander any more time, that every minute counts and that there’s always a chance for redemption. I have to remind myself to count on the prize of forgiveness, respect and humble pie – all wrapped up in the bundle of wisdom. This memoir doesn’t have to be perfect – it can’t be perfect.
It will be a mess of hairy arms and legs and crooked teeth gnashing against the pretense of high heels and perfect lipstick. I zigzagged my way through my life down dark alleys, along pristine hallways, through self induced poverty and flatlining in the world of the middle class. I butted my head against the pricks and became a prick and back again, kicking and screaming.
Like the memoirs I have listened to lately, I’m not going to worry about format. I’m not going to worry about whether it’s chronological or in any kind of proper order. If I want to break out in song or poetry – good! If – like my life – I want to zigzag, so be it! I have to learn not be timid with the things that belong to me. I just have to put it out there, warts and all and let it fend for itself, like a mama bird kicks the baby out of the nest. I pray for monstrous wings!
Looking over my lists of memories that I’d like to write about, I realized that I hadn’t included things such as items I loved, or food I enjoyed, music I got into, my heroes and so on. Then I thought – I don’t want this memoir to become the written version of a hoarders show! However – I can’t resist ‘cataloging’ these things, along with the events and people in my life, as they do contribute to the building blocks of who I have become. (My brain is weary after a long week at my tiresome job – so please forgive my grammar slippings and stunted creativity! I will endeavor to polish these turds when I end up actually putting this memoir together!)
The above picture is of a Scandinavian Elf that was hanging up in the lounge room when I was a child. You can see the name ‘Sassi’ down the bottom, and that’s what I called him. Of course, when I was young, I thought he was real and for some reason assumed he was related to my mystical mountain that I always dreamed about. Through the divorces of my parents, growing up etc, Sassi disappeared, but one day, I was shopping online (Etsy) and found him! Naturally, I paid the minimal price they were asking and received the wall hanging in the mail a week later. I’m such a child – but I had to have it! Getting older means harking back to the old days and reminiscing (which I’m doing a hell of a lot of these days), and yearning for the things that meant a lot to you. I don’t need lots of expensive jewelry or ugly over-priced handbags! Give me books, music, movies and nostalgia and I’m as happy as a pig in shit!
What with political correctness and health officials (rightfully so, I suppose) doing their best to keep children safe and healthy, candy cigarettes are a no-no these days. But when I was a kid they were all the rage and they had little red tips at the end to make it look like you were actually smoking a lit cigarette. I remember walking around like Lady Muck with my friends, talking like what we thought were grown women, saying things like “Oh yes, you know..I agree..!” and so on, with haughty voices and tapping the imaginary ash.
If I had a daughter I would never have bought her toys like this! Sexist horror – but I do remember my little iron with the cord and the suction cup at the end, which would stick on the wall. When mum ironed I would set mine up and do the dolls clothes alongside her.
It was always special to find a nest – and even more special to find an egg! The adults would always tell us to stay away from them in case we got ‘bird lice’. I never got ‘bird lice’. I also collected feathers, leaves, gum nuts, seed pods, skulls, rocks, shells and anything else I could get my hands on.
We all loved butter! This memory goes hand in hand with blowing the dandelions and making wishes, making daisy chains, looking for fairy rings made out of toadstools, playing in sticklegrass and so on.
Everyone’s breath smelled like licorice. They were hard but after a while they would get chewy and gooey.
Where did Strawberry Pops go?! I loved having these for breakfast.
You never saw her face.
I wanted the Bionic Woman to be my mother! I fantasized about it all the time. Those were the years when things at home were getting worse. I either wanted to run away and live with Lindsay Wagner or be her!
I loved her music and loved her. I wanted to be her too!
Like most youngsters in the seventies – especially in Australia – I was smitten by ABBA. My friends and I would pretend to be them and mime their songs. Everyone fought over who would be Agnetha and I was always supposed to be Frida! (She was just as good though!)
I made so many of these. So ironic that the answers were deliberately written according to the desired results!
This was magic to me! I preferred playing with this, rather than going to real ballet lessons. I was no good and later, when I went to Jazz ballet, I realized I was no good at that either. I like Homer Simpson’s response to dancing “It’s the lowest form of communication!” Ha ha! I remember when my cousin and I would be dropped off to the lessons and the sign said “Private Road”. We used to giggle, imagining girls’ private parts jumping around everywhere. I also remember the snobby girls and their equally snobby mothers, who would stick their noses up in the air when we’d walk in. The snobby girls would walk like Charlie Chaplin and I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get why they thought they were so good.
These dolls were great fun, as they had a button in their backs that you pushed to make their hair grow. Then you’d wind it back up.
Simple – but they would keep me out of trouble for a long time!
I had a heap of them. My mother still collects them! You’d swap between your friends and collect series of them.
I have a lot of fun memories of drive ins – as a child as well as a teenager! The ones I would go to had swings and playgrounds down the front and it was safe enough for us kids to go and play before the movie started, or if we got bored and the parents kicked us out of the car!
Loved him – for a while.
There are far too many more but I’ll attempt them at another time.
I’ve been spreading myself thin lately – the usual juggling act that is particularly annoying for writers, what with the day job, daily ministrations, working on other writing projects and so on. A novel I’m currently toying with (a surreal, Young adult story) is growing arms and legs, so it’s taking center stage at the moment, however – last night I had one of my flashes as I tossed and turned, in regards to my memoir.
I wondered how it would be to write about some of my stories along the theme of water – or any other theme. I assume we all have these themes in our lives. For example, we all have tree stories, beach stories, holiday stories, school stories etc. The flash I had included all the memories that involved water, for some reason, and I decided that when I got up this morning, I would write them out and see how they panned out. So here they are, in random order, for me to organize at a later date, when I decide to actually put all this into a book!
The two most profound water memories I have involve saving both my brothers from drowning, at two separate incidents. The first one was when I was twelve years old and my brother Lucas was ten. We were at Seaspray which is known as the Ninety mile beach in Victoria, Australia. My Aunty Doris (who was the lady who kind of adopted my mum for holidays when she was a child, being brought up in the home) owned the holiday house there and had rented it to my mother for two weeks. I discovered later that mum had taken my brothers and I there after a fight with my stepfather.
There was no television but there was a radio and a ping pong table as well as the beautiful beach across the road. Mum thought that we were going to drive her nuts without a t.v. (I was twelve, Lucas was ten and Peter was eight) – but we spent most of our time exploring the beach, playing ping pong and catching blue tongue lizards. When you came out the front door you could see the hummocks (or hills) that were at least fifteen feet high and covered with long grasses. Every now and then there are tracks leading to the beach and once you get to the top you hear the roar of the ocean.
I spent a lot of time on my own writing and this particular day, I was sitting on the beach writing as Lucas went out into the water on an inner tube from a truck. He was sitting in the middle of it, slowly drifting further out. After a while I stood up and yelled at him “Lucas, you’re too far out!” He yelled back “Far out, far out!” doing peace signs in the air with his hands. I yelled again to come back, more urgent now as he was fast becoming a dot on the horizon. “You’re too far out, come back!” I strained my eyes to see him and realized that I could only see the inner tube floating to the right, without him on it. All of a sudden I saw him burst up from the water in the distance and I heard a blood curdling scream.
I froze for a split second but then it was like my primal brain took over. I dove into the water and started making my way towards him. The waves were at least four feet so I had to stop every now and then to see where he was. He was still struggling and dipping below the surface, his arms flailing wildly and then disappearing every now and then. After what seemed like an eternity I reached him and of course he latched onto me, grabbing at me frantically. I remembered something I had seen on t.v. about drowning people who ended up drowning the people who were trying to save them and that was definitely what nearly happened to me. He kept grabbing me around my neck and climbing over me, pushing me under the water.
Eventually I slapped his face and screamed at him to stop it and to turn on his back and go limp so I could take us both back to the shore. Luckily he did as he was told and I was able to wrap my arm around his face and under his arm. Using my other arm I swam us both back, carefully, telling him to help by kicking his legs. When we got back, a final wave dumped him thunderously onto the sand, as though to punish him for being an idiot. It made his tank top come up over his head and he just sat there for a while, crying. I was so mad I wanted to kick him, but all he could think about was the missing tire tube and how our Uncle would be pissed!
The other time was a few years later when I was fifteen and my younger brother Peter was eleven. We were visiting my mother’s boyfriend at Wonga Park and decided to go for a swim at the Yarra River. Being older, I was a stronger swimmer so I got to the other side first and waited for him, sitting on a rock. As soon as he made it he said “Let’s go again!” and I said “No, wait, you need to catch your breath!” He just laughed and said ‘No I don’t. I’ll beat ya!” With that he jumped back in and started swimming, so I followed. When I got to the other side I turned around and realized that I couldn’t see him. I looked up and down the banks and at the water but couldn’t see him anywhere.
Just like Lucas at the beach, all of a sudden I saw the water break, in the middle of the river and heard an awful scream, with Peter’s arms thrashing about, trying to grab onto something – anything! My guts jumped! Here we go again! So I swam out to him and realized that I had to tell him to calm down so I could get him back to the edge of the river, but he was so panicked that he climbed onto me as soon as I got to him. He got onto my shoulders and pinned me down under the water. Both of his feet were on both of my shoulders! The water was at least ten feet deep and when I tried to buckle my knees to get out from under him, he kept balancing himself and pinning me to the spot.
Every time I got out from under him, and tried to swim back to the surface, he found me and stood back on my shoulders. By this time I was out of air so all I could do was punch and dig my fingers into his ankles with all the strength I had left. This worked and he jumped off. When I got to the surface and caught my breath I had to grab and throw him, swimming up to him and continuing the process until we made it to the banks. I was so mad as he was laughing hysterically and I didn’t know about hysterical laughter so I started slapping and punching him. A couple who had stood by and watched the whole scene pulled me off him and explained that he couldn’t help it but I turned on them, yelling “Why didn’t you help us!?” They just stood there dumbstruck, then walked away quickly.
One more time where I saved someone was my beautiful son Zack, when he was two years old. We were living in the Buddhist commune and one of my duties was cleaning the swimming pool. I had him situated in a section away from the water, playing with his toys. As I walked around the pool, scooping leaves, I turned around to keep an eye on him. Every time I looked at him he was in his little section, playing with his toys. The one time I wasn’t looking, he slipped into the shallow end, without even a ‘plop’. I turned around and didn’t see him. I called his name and he didn’t answer.
I ran back to the section and he wasn’t there. By this time I was hysterical, screaming his name when my eyes were drawn to the water. He was under the surface, his arms and legs outstretched, not moving. I jumped in, my heart frozen, and snatched him up. He laughed and said “I was swimming!” I couldn’t help yelling at him, even though it was my fault. “I told you to stay away from the water!” Then he started crying and I felt like a bag of dog shit. I cried too as I realized what could have happened if I’d been daydreaming or distracted. Needless to say that I watched him like a hawk after that.
One time, at seaspray, when I was around six years old, I nearly drowned in the dip, or what they called ‘the washing machine’. It was a dip about six feet into the water where you could easily get caught if you didn’t know how to swim through it. The waves would tumble in a circle and you could get caught and not know which side was up or down. When it happened to me I thought I was going to die. I remember trying to use my brain and every time my hands felt the sand I’d push upwards but the waves pushed me back down. My equilibrium was in chaos and I was churning around and around.
The adults were oblivious to my plight and by the time I got myself out of it and back onto the shore, vomiting up wet sand and sea water, they laughed and said “You’ll know better next time!” I remember being furious for a long time, feeling uncared for and abandoned, as though I had no-one to rely on when things got dangerous. How ironic, as there were times later on, where I would have to be the one who would save the day!
When I was fifteen, we had a swimming pool in our backyard and had many pool parties over the years. I learned how all of a sudden people would be your friend when summer came and magically they disappeared when it was over, at least until the next summer. One of my mother’s boyfriend’s friends, Lucien, who was an older man, tried to pay me $5 to get in the pool with him and give him a kiss under water. Of course I declined. He was always after me, giving me strange gifts of chocolate or 4711 perfume. Whenever I climbed out of the pool I could feel his eyes on me and it made me uncomfortable, but the other adults respected him as he had lived a charmed life and used to be a strong man in the circus many years before and had met Laurel and Hardy.
It’s funny how, when you’re young and going through puberty, you don’t mind certain people noticing, but others make you self conscious or even worse, they sicken you! Again, at Seaspray – during the time I had saved Lucas from drowning, I was swimming, wearing my red one piece bathing suit, that happened to be see through when wet! A dune buggy came tearing along the beach with three guys in it and they stopped, yelling for me to come out of the water to talk to them. I was scared as I was only twelve years old and had a faint idea what they might’ve wanted. My brothers were being rambunctious, yelling at them to “Fuck off!” but they ignored them and continued asking me to come over and talk to them.
I was polite and said no thanks, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Secretly – I was excited, but fear got the better of me, and I continued to shy away and stayed in the water. In the meantime my brothers had ran back to the house and told my Aunty Doris, who was probably in her sixties at the time. She came over the hummocks, waving her walking stick and yelling angrily, telling them “Leave her alone, she’s only a child!” I was humiliated, but also relieved. As they drove off, yelling obscenities over their shoulders, I stared after them ruefully, thinking to myself that if I’d been older, I might’ve had to guts to talk to them.
One of my favorite pastimes as a child (like most children, I expect) was to play in creeks, causeways, drains etc. There was a lot of exploring to be done and adventures to be had. As my mother and her friends were drinking, we were able to slink away and pretty much do what we wanted, as long as we were back before dark. I especially loved the ones where willow trees hung over them. I would take my notebooks and sit, writing dreamily for hours, as the boys played pirates and so on.
One time, Lucas climbed to the top of one of the willow trees at my stepfather’s place, in Ivanhoe, and jumped onto one of the branches, swinging like an idiot. He yelled out “Look at me! I’m Tarzan!” He did the Tarzan “victory cry of the bull ape” when suddenly there was a “CRACK” and the branch broke, bringing him slamming into the creek! We all laughed so hard. We didn’t dare take him home, drenched and muddy. He just took off his outer clothes and draped them across the grass to dry and continued to play.
Sometimes we would follow the creeks for hours, walking barefoot through the water, pretending we were on a mission to find something elusive. If it got too deep we’d find an old piece of corrugated iron or fiberglass and use it as a raft, or walk along the sides. I’d find pretty rocks, feathers, leaves and flowers and take them home. I remember some days mum would pack us a picnic for the whole day and we’d have a wonderful time, exploring, getting filthy, climbing trees, making friends with random dogs and goats here and there.
I could go on and on but I think I’ll save it for another time.
Writing this memoir has been a very therapeutic experience in terms of exorcising demons and analysis. For the most part, as long as I’m writing, I’m happy, although the perfectionist and idealist in me tend to gripe from their perches, saying things like “What about the poetry?” or “Not as good as the Beats” or “I thought you wanted to be a Great Writer!” I’ve had articles published in three of Llewellyn’s Almanacs. The first was about Animal totems in their 2011 Magical Almanac. Then I wrote a series of entries for their 2012 Witches’ Spell A Day Almanac. The last was a piece on the Numerology of plants for their 2013 Herbal Almanac.
I’m proud of those pieces, but I have to admit that along the way, something in me transformed, in regards to my ‘spirituality’. I have always felt uneasy with the term ‘atheist’ as it implies the notion of an aversion to spirituality. The idea of calling myself ‘agnostic’ also made me uncomfortable as it came across as laziness, or at least – as being in a holding pattern until something better came along. It was like a ‘just in case’ position, or lying in wait – like a spider on the outskirts of a web, waiting for the tug of the string.
In my earlier years I went ‘out on a limb’ and explored different faiths, reading book after book and attending services and visiting temples. I had countless conversations with a variety of different types of people from different walks of life. I lived in a Buddhist commune for a year and was initiated into the White Tara mysteries. I spent a brief period studying with Jehovah’s Witnesses (boy was that a mistake!), which was brought on by an episodic fear of death. My cousin organized a clumsy religious intervention, disguised as a makeup party, where she and a psychotic garden variety Born again Christian woman did their best to ‘exorcize’ me! They both ended up in tears and I walked away amused but angry that I was duped into wasting my time and energy – AND I had brought good food!
When I was twenty three I met an American woman – Elia, who was from Waco, Texas. She was in her early fifties and had an ad in the paper about teaching Numerology. I had been interested before and decided to look into it so I called her. When she answered and we started talking, for some reason I thought that she was Russian. (It turned out later on she discovered that her family did have Russian in their background!) The lessons were cheap so I signed up and started attending, every Tuesday night. Elia had a degree in Psychology and was also an art teacher. She was thoroughly fascinating and I learned a lot from her.
It turned out that I was the only one who stayed for the complete course and she said that from the beginning, she knew that I would be the only one who would stay. Week after week, someone would drop off until it was just Elia and I, which was fine with me. To this day I still practice Numerology, as it’s been the only thing that has rung true, for me. I have tested it in a variety of different ways and often I find myself saying “Well, it’s all projection!” But when I look back over my chart I get a chill, and realize that whatever happens, Numerology has been like a blueprint that just states the facts ma’am!
I had religious people telling me often that I needed to have faith, but that seemed like too much hoping. I’d rather have knowledge and truth. Something concrete is better than smoke and mirrors. I remember thinking that it seemed as though they all wanted a father figure so badly, that the idea of someone watching over them gave them comfort, and who was I to take that away from them? I thought “Good luck to you – but don’t impose that grasping onto me!”
Fear is a great motivator and pain is a great educator, however – it all depends on where you take it and how you develop it. Every time I had a crazy experience, whether it was a hypnagogic hallucination or a supposedly prophetic dream, I assumed it was my synapses misfiring or whatever I ate the night before. Sometimes they were prompted by auto suggestion or psychosomatic circumstances.
I knew an older man called Keith who did my tarot cards for me every now and then, in my twenties. He reminded me of Khalil Gibran. For years he pursued me romantically but I was not interested – and I never led him on. One night we stayed at a mutual friends’ house and had to share a bed. Apparently he came to bed later and my vibes were so strong that he had to leave the room! When I came out in the morning he was sleeping on a bean bag in their lounge room and was very angry with me, even though I had no idea what had happened! (Later on that day, we were sitting in their backyard and their pet goose came running at Keith in full attack mode! It was like even the animal kingdom was against him!)
I remember that every time he did my readings, there were always messages about me having to let my guard down and to stop worrying about what others thought about me. I had to stop worrying about the ‘pigs and fishes’. The last reading he did for me was using a Native American deck with animal totems. Again the message was about removing the masks and discovering the real me. I wondered if Keith was peppering the readings with subtle hints about letting him in. There was no way that was going to happen. He was sweet – but kind of creepy at the same time.
After that last reading I had an incredible out of the body experience. All of a sudden I was floating in space with two creatures – much like a white demon I had seen in a painting, with faces on their groins. They were on either side of me, holding my arms and they were grotesque. They told me telepathically that I needed to ‘drop the mask’ and to learn to see beyond the masks of others. In front of us I could see a huge black planet rolling towards us like a bowling ball. I was afraid but they kept telling me to relax. Then I saw a brilliant white light coming up over the horizon of the black planet. It was growing brighter and brighter as it came closer, appearing over the planet, still rolling towards us.
I wriggled and tried to break free, screaming in my ‘mind’ that I wanted to go back to my body and that I wasn’t ready. The creatures (or angels?) kept saying “You’ll regret it!” The white light was getting bigger and closer to the point that it was almost unbearable to look at. Finally I broke free, screaming “I can’t!” and I snapped back to my body. Fair enough, as soon as I sat up in bed I regretted being a chicken and not waiting to see the light, as it dawned on me that the white light was my ‘Higher Self’. To this day I feel bad about that, even though I’m still not sure if it was just my synapses misfiring!
One constant thing that has always been a part of me or my spirituality, is my pagan side. I have always felt strongly connected to the earth, the seasons and to the animal kingdom. I have always been fascinated with ritual and witchcraft too. When I was about twelve years old I came across a book of ceremonial magic that my mum had in her bookcase. It was given to her by a friend of the family, who had given it to us as he thought he was cursed by the witch who gave it to him. He was a guitar player in a band and he had an affair with her. He said that she scared him as she was very controlling and definitely had ‘the power’. When he broke up with her he started having terrible problems with arthritis in his hands, to the point where he couldn’t even play guitar. I don’t know what he did to “break the spell” but giving the book to us apparently helped a lot.
I remember taking the book into my room and setting up a ritual with candles, casting circle etc. However I freaked out when the wind picked up and the candles flickered so I quickly snuffed them out, packed up the altar and put the book back in its spot in the bookcase. Years later, mum threw the book in the fireplace.
In my late twenties I started dabbling with an ouija board. My neighbor at the time, Debbie, came up with the bright idea, and even though we didn’t have a board, we decided to make one out of a piece of masonite and some scrabble pieces. We used a little liqueur glass and placed our index fingers on it. Immediately it started moving. It was strange as it seemed as though it was moving of its own accord. Both of us were quite skeptical and wanted to test it, out of curiosity. Sometimes it would go so fast that it would slip out of our fingers and keep moving across the board. It was hard to keep up with it.
The same people would come through and it would say random crap that usually bored us to tears. We noticed that even after just twenty minutes our energy would be drained dramatically, and we had to stop to recharge our batteries with cups of tea and cookies! One time was freaky though. An entity came through and told us that Debbie’s son had torn his pants climbing over a fence at school. I went with her when she picked him up and fair enough, when he got into the car, he told his mum that he ripped his pants climbing over a fence! We raced home to jump back on the board!
It was amazing though, that we couldn’t get the lottery numbers! It wasn’t long before a nasty entity came through, saying that my brother Peter was going to die (he did die a few years later). I was so angry I told Debbie that I wasn’t going to do it anymore so we broke the board up into little pieces and threw it away.
I still wonder about what happens with an ouija board – whether you’re just channeling your own subconscious energies through it, or if there really are actual ‘spirits’ coming through.
Debbie and I started getting into tarot cards and read for each other over the following years. We also went to a professional reader who did a reading for me that I will never forget – as it made me laugh so much. She said that I would end up living in Argentina on a cattle ranch, with 40,000 head of cattle! Debbie promised me that if it ever eventuated, she would personally get on a plane and come to the ranch and eat her own shit from a gold platter. The funny thing is, it kind of came close. I did relocate to the U.S. and am living in Nashville, just not Argentina and without the 40,000 head of cattle. I hope to one day make enough money to do that, just to see Debbie eat her own shit. (Just kidding!)
Whenever I did my own tarot readings I recorded the questions I asked as well as the answers, so I could go back to them after a certain time to see if whatever was predicted came true. The problem with doing this is that once ‘programmed’ with the supposed outcome, you subconsciously bring about the result, unless you’re a saboteur and stop it from happening. I found it annoying when I realized that no matter what, I had the power to begin with, to bring about whatever change I wanted. Even though it was fun and enchanting to do a reading, whatever question I asked – I already had the desired answer in my mind.
I knew what I wanted to happen so I felt that I was affecting the outcome with my subconscious desires. I resorted to doing readings where I just asked “You tell me.” I got more honest and interesting results, which I still recorded and checked, months down the track. At times things did come true, but then it was easy to project certain outcomes. These days I don’t bother with the cards, as I rely more on cause and effect, research and knowledge, based on what has gone on before and what seems logical and reasonable.
We also started getting into witchcraft but I dropped it when I got into my relationship with Jim, the crazy unemployed writer. When I split up with him I picked it back up. I went the whole hog, doing rituals, wearing capes and pentagrams, celebrating the Sabbats and Esbats, writing my own incantations, gathering herbs, playing with gems, oils, spells and so on. I was already into dream interpretation, astral traveling etc so it went hand in hand. After years of practicing I realized that essentially, I was still an atheist at heart. I wondered how I could reconcile this with my pagan heart. Then it dawned on me.
We use magic as a touchstone to program the mind and deities as archetypes to understand our psychology. Symbolism is the language of our subconscious and ritual allows us to tap into it and to project our intentions. I realized that my connection to nature and the animal kingdom was what expressed my spirituality. It is my spirituality. The collective unconscious and the symbolism of the world is what speaks to my ‘spiritual mind’.
It’s not necessarily a faith, as it’s something that I can test and can see real outcomes eventuate in my life. Although my spirituality is still a work in progress (which is the same for all of us), I do feel that I don’t need a religious dogma to nail it down.
Organized religion has an agenda that is not in accordance with the ebb and flow of the rhythms of nature. It is preoccupied with the motivations of greedy and power hungry humans, who are hell bent on controlling other humans. I am happy to side step all of that and to find peace with the reality of nature, without the unreality of religion.
One of the tools I discuss in my book about lifemapping (a work in progress – which I may or may not finish, that incorporates ritual, self analysis, delving into darkness etc) is dream interpretation, as I have always found this to be a very satisfying method for understanding what’s going on. I’m fascinated by universal symbols, archetypes, the collective unconscious, the Shadow, anima/animus, the integrated self and so on. I have recorded my dreams since I was little and discovered that I have some common themes and some not so common. I found that it’s important to keep in mind factors such as what substances you have ingested or what foods you have eaten before bedtime (for example – if your digestive system is trying to negotiate with a variety of cheeses or spicy dishes then your dreams will be infiltrated with interesting if not alarming imagery!)
I also found it interesting to note that, for me anyway, smoking marijuana either stopped me from dreaming or at least remembering my dreams. Alcohol made dreams more vivid and colorful. I’m still grappling with the notion of drugs either opening gateways in the mind to hidden concepts, memories and dimensions that are actually there or if they just simply create hallucinations. Whatever happens, don’t the symbols, memories and the ‘raw materials’ already exist in our subconscious – so the idea should be, whatever works to flush them out?
I always found the dreamworld to be a magical state that provided endless insights and ideas. One of the earliest dreams that I can remember was when I was living at Nanna and Pa’s. It was after my parent’s divorce and my two brothers, Peter and Lucas, as well as my cousin Georgia were living there, with my father. In the dream we were all in a car, including Georgia’s father (he and my dad are identical twins). The men were sitting in the front and us kids were sitting in the back. We were driving up and down some very steep hills. We arrived on the top of one of the hills (it was night time) and our fathers got out at a gas station to pump the gas and get something from the store.
All of a sudden the car started rolling down the hill, faster and faster. Our dads were still back at the gas station and we were screaming for them. As we were plummeting down to the bottom of the hill, Georgia and I were trying to lean over to take hold of the wheel. I woke up just before we crashed at the bottom. I had this dream four nights in a row. I was about 5 years old. I realize now that it was an anxiety dream brought about by our parent’s divorces and that Georgia and I were trying to figure out how to take control of the situation, but couldn’t.
Car dreams have appeared here and there in my life, along with other vehicles. Symbolically vehicles represent the way you are traveling in life, or life itself. It’s all about what’s going on, whether you have control of the vehicle etc. I’ve often dreamed of being in the passenger seat, or not being able to drive properly, which is indicative of how I’ve felt with the direction my life has taken, over the years. One dream I had was with the car splitting in half – and both halves going in two different directions! Other dreams had me feeling like I couldn’t control the steering wheel or couldn’t make the car go faster. The best one I had was where I was on a motorcycle and was on a long straight road, all by myself and I was going full throttle! It was wonderful. At that time, my life was taking off and I felt like I had more control.
I’ve also dreamed about trains, often feeling like I was on the wrong train, or seeing a train crash into the ocean. (Water is supposed to represent the subconscious, or emotions.) Now that I am living in another country, I dream about planes and feeling stranded, or flying back to Australia and feeling like I can never get the connecting flight back here!
A major dream theme for me is the Tidal wave. When I was in my twenties, it was ominous and overwhelming. They were huge and would wash over me, devouring me like a monster. Sometimes I would be inside the tunnel and would see furniture such as clocks, chairs, tables etc in the water. I would be panicked, wondering how to get out and worried about drowning. Eventually I would be outside of the wave but on the beach and seeing it coming, still freaking out and trying to run, but my feet were heavy in the sand or the drag of the water would be pulling me into the wave.
Other times I would be in a city and I would see a wave coming over a tall building, or I would see the water sluicing down alleyways. It got to the stage when they were not a bother, as the last one was where I was sitting on a sunny beach and I saw a wave in the distance. I didn’t panic. I just observed it dispassionately and once it crashed on the shore I watched the foam gently creep up to my feet and tickle my toes. I realized that it signified my having tamed my emotions (to a degree!).
An interesting (almost precognitive) dream I had was when I had started a relationship with a guy who turned out to be – to put it politely – quite a handful. He was draining on my nerves and drove me nuts. Jim was an unemployed writer and we hit it off, even though I had a feeling that it was going to be trouble. I fell for him straight away as he had a wicked sense of humor and was very intelligent. I learned a lot from him and he exposed me to books, music and art that I might not have gotten into, so I am grateful for that, at least.
When we first started dating I had a dream about wading into the ocean. I was walking under the surface as though I had lead boots on. I could feel the current gently buffeting me about but I kept walking. Then I could see all these mines – the circular ones that are anchored at the bottom with chains, like balloons on strings. I had to navigate my way past them. It was like walking through a dense forest and I had to make sure I didn’t bump into them, with the current pushing me this way and that. As soon as I woke up I knew what it meant. This one was going to be trouble.
It was intense and there were a lot of tears and angry words. He was infuriating as he had no issue with taking and not giving in return. He would snap for no reason and had issues with drinking. He made me feel bad about my appearance as he was a typical small man caught up in the idea that women have to be petite and weak. I put up with him for two years and finally let him go. It was during that relationship that my brother died and his sister committed suicide, so at least we were there for each other. Everything has its reason, I suppose.
I’ve talked about my mountain dreams in my post ‘Otherworldliness’, so I won’t mention it again here – other than to say that I wonder if it represents the integration of the self, according to Carl Jung. That would explain my utter fascination with it and how I yearn for it so much!
Snakes have often been a recurring theme for me. Some say they represent psychic power or sexuality. The symbolism always depends on what they represent for the dreamer. One dream I had was where I was flying through a lush jungle and I saw a large, beautiful green snake on a small island in the middle of a lake. I flew down and spoke telepathically with it. I woke up feeling so at peace! Another dream had me walking up and down some stone steps of an ancient temple and I saw a strange, small blue snake with horns. Then I saw another one with a head at each end of his body. Symbolically, the snake in a circle, swallowing it’s own tail means wholeness or infinity. Maybe the snake having two heads meant that I had to make a decision before I could be whole? (I can’t remember what was happening in my life at that time.)
Another snake dream I had was where I was underwater – swimming with a large snake, hanging onto it. The water was murky and we were dodging rotten logs and flotsam and jetsam. I think at the time I was worried about sordid sexual relationships.
One of my significant dreams I had before coming to the U.S. to live, was about a house, that seemed to be somewhere in a place like Indonesia. It was tropical and mysterious. The house was very mysterious and I was interested in buying it but next door was a yard that I had to go through to get to it. The yard was protected by stone animals that came to life every time I entered it, like a video game. I criss crossed and negotiated my way across until I finally made my way to the house.
Once inside there was a large rectangular room where an Asian looking, blue ghost lady was floating along the four walls, going in circles. Every time she passed me I was scared but I knew I had to speak to her to buy the house. I made it past her to the bathroom but then she vanished and a woman was cooking in a kitchen, back from where I’d come from. I realized it was too late. Still trying to figure that one out.
One of the scariest dreams I had was one of the most profound, as it involved the integration of the self. I was in a dark attic, sitting cross legged. At the other end of the attic was a little blonde haired girl. I knew she was evil as she was eating body parts and had jagged teeth. She looked like a demon. She was wearing a tattered white dress that was splattered with blood. There were lumps of meat all over the floor. She saw me and then started floating towards me, her teeth gnashing and her eyes flashing, with her arms outstretched.
I was petrified but realized that I had to accept her as she was a part of myself that I kept hidden. (Either my rage or some other aspect I didn’t like to admit to.) The fear became more and more intensified the closer she got to me until finally she was in my arms. Suddenly she transformed into a ‘normal’ little girl and was sobbing into my shoulder. I comforted and hugged her, telling her that everything was going to be alright. Once I awoke I realized that something huge had just occurred and felt very proud of myself.
I know that some people think that other people’s dreams are boring but I want to include the important ones (important to me, at least!) in my memoir as they’re a part of my history. Dreams afford us the opportunity to explore our motivations and to analyze our lives from different perspectives. They can be warnings or messages of hope and peace. If nothing else, they are a well of inspiration and wonderful ideas.