Those Vivid Dreams

I’ve been fighting death (again) and, well this means I go a bit fey. And I have dreams. The kind that mean stuff.

There was so much negativity and bad stuff at first, but then again I WAS in a hospital that believed threatening a half-blind woman tied to the bed with an IV with security for the crime of speaking a bit too loudly (and without warning) was how you treat people. Half open locust bodies, etc.

I had one of those warning dreams for a pagan friend, so I passed the message along… pretty sure I didn’t get listened to, whiiiiich was part of the warning. So he’ll lose his hamsters by and by, oh well.

Then when I got home, the focus shifted to personal “we’re gonna aim on you now” things. Two dreams, to be exact.

In the first I won the lottery - one of those pull arm games - and all this gold came spilling out everywhere. My father was there - looking healthier and years younger - and said something but I can’t remember the convo no. I gathered all of the coins up - they were large, about the size of my palm - and despite the amount that had come out they fit neatly in this medium sized bag.

I figured out that real quick. Gonna come into money but it’s not going to be as much as it looks like. Logically: that’s because taxes. Also I associate being lucky with my father for various self-esteeme damaging reasons that aren’t relevant here.

Then the second dream. And this one has me still feeling crushed after two days, even though it was meant to be a loving and positive message. I’ve hemmed and hawed about posting here over the course of the days: one minute I have felt I should and the next I felt like it was stupid. So I’m gonna type and see what happens.

Backstory: a long long time ago I got involved with an entity I had named George. One night he asked me to marry him. I was 14. I said yes. Suddenly as if coming from far away arrived a family ancestor - the only one I know I have on my personal watch. She was tan, she wore a red velvet skirt and looked more Navajo than I am (which is not), and you could tell she was a little irritated that she was forced to make the effort to come. (I’m all grown up now. No doubt, as she also came from LONG ago it was "why is it I have to do this when there are so many others closer…!)

She put a stop to things and I never saw George again. I am sometimes sad about that. But at the time she’d explained about him being bad for me, etc. and knowing what I know he probably was.

Another bit of backstory: when I was very little I had a couple of spirits offer me the world if I did something. I couldn’t know what it was. I declined saying I’d rather be happy, but sure give me the quest. (I wanted to be Frodo, y’know.) And said that I wanted to truly earn what I had, rather than be like those rich kids that picked on me at school. Life hasn’t been easy because of that childhood decision. I could punch my kid self in the face. No. Really. Anyway.

So in this second dream I was standing in one of those covered picnic areas like what you see at a park. My husband was standing to my right and I was in front of one of those tables.

I was handed a box, and a woman was explaining, “We’ve been making these everyday for five minutes for you. Every day for five minutes. They’re from every place you have ever been.”

The gesture touched me so much I started to cry. The box was full of miniature embroidered flags. They were about 2 inches long each, and all were blue and white. I have a habit of touching and dog-earing things, so I automatically picked on up in my left hand to feel it’s texture. I could feel the texture, and I knew that the flag was for Connecticut - which btw I’ve never been to. (And what little I could see of it, it more resembled Old Glory.)

“See,” the woman said, “you are loved.”

I looked up and saw her. She was very comfortably lounging at the table directly in front of mine and it was the woman from far away: the ancestor. She had her hair back in a bun and I could see the grey around her face, that frosting you get. I looked back down the way you do and noticed that 1. I was thinner (nice) and 2. was wearing a traditional skirt and blouse set up kind of like from the far West or South of which I am neither. (But Connecticut is important tribally.)

I woke up in the bed sobbing my eyes out. And when I realized I was awake and that it wasn’t real: I wasn’t in that place being told how loved I was, my tears turned into heartbroken sobs. You know how when you go to those places and you’re ripped out and your heart and soul is ripped to shreds because you so desperately want to go back?

For the past few weeks I’ve been feeling like a ship lost at sea. I cut even more ties with my Christian brainwashed parents, and have felt my world dwindling in size. Then to get this kind of sick just when I was reaching for MY dreams instead of working to help others achieve theirs has been a great blow.

Laster that day I realized, wait. Oh damn. Wait.

That box was FULL of flags. It would have had to be flags from all over the world, and then flags that probably aren’t even flown anymore. It was THAT full.

So essentially I was given the world.

… and I still have no idea what it is I was supposed to do!!!