Heartwarming/Life Affirming; Heartbreaking/Life of Regret

I'll start first with the heartwarming and life-affirming story:

Every year at Christmas I get Jeff and me and The Girls scratch-off tickets for our stockings.  When my chocolate lab Lucy was alive (see www.gertieseesghosts.com/tributetolucy.html), she was the one who always won the big ticket payout on the scratchoffs - usually $50 every year!  And a more humble winner would be hard pressed to be found, as she always smiled sheepishly when told she had won (again!), her tail wagging in joy and excitement.  Now it's 6 years later, and the tradition continues with the placing of the scratchoffs in our stockings, although this year Jeff decided he'd get us each one, too (double the fun!).

I have said many times that our yorkie Sadie is Lucy reincarnated; she has the same temperament, watches me constantly, knows no enemies, likes to eat cat litter (don't worry, I'm not going to discuss that!) and even eats the same way that Lucy did.  This year at Christmas reaffirmed to me that Sadie and Lucy are one and the same: Sadie won $50 on her scratchoff ticket!  Jeff and I just looked at each other and said simultaneously: "Lucy!"  And in the interest of full disclosure, we ALL won - out of 10 tickets purchased, 7 were winners, but Sadie had the only big bucks win :D.

 Now for the heartbreaking, which I debated blogging about but which I finally concluded should be known because it speaks to living and dying:

My stepfather Jamison died in March 2010 (see my blog post in March re that event), and other than his awful thoughts prior to his death being picked up by me, I haven't thought of him since that time; he wasn't in my life for over 30 years, so his death didn't leave any mark on me except sadness for him (certainly not for me).  Imagine my surprise, then, when a few weeks ago after we had hung the stockings on the mantel and had finished putting the Christmas lights up, I was walking from the office through the livingroom to the kitchen when I saw Jamison sitting on my couch.  He was sitting with his legs apart, hands clasped in front of him and looking straight at the stockings in a thoughtful, somber, regret-filled face.  It truly broke my heart.  He never looked at me so I was able to observe him for a few seconds before he vanished, and the pain and regret and sorrow was palpable.  But he was also reflecting, which I believe we all do when we die and which we should do as we live.  Karma is indeed a bitch, but I believe it goes further than that: death is not final - ever.  We go on to live either in the otherworld, or we're reincarnated to try to learn those lessons we missed or to try to experience life on another level than we did on the last go around.  I'm actually thankful to have gotten a glimpse of Jamison in reflection; it's a reminder that even those in this life who may seem to lack compassion, love and respect reflect upon their choices when they're in that otherworld and hopefully will gain new understanding into how mistaken they were when alive in this world.   Therefore, as the Buddhist tenet insists, we must learn in this world to love those who are less than lovable because one day they WILL see the consequences of their actions.

Autism and the Paranormal

I took the Autism Quotient test yesterday (http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/9.12/aqtest.html) and scored a whopping 37 points.  While disheartening, I always suspected I had some degree of autism.  My mother used to tell me that when I was a toddler, I constantly beat my head against the wall and rocked myself to sleep - both of which can be early signs of autism.  I was obviously different temperamentally than my siblings; my mind was focused inward, often to the exclusion of my family.  Long road trips were nirvana for me because my parents thought I was the perfect child (I didn't get cranky and didn't need to be entertained - my mind entertained me) and were too busy dealing with my siblings to pay attention to me.  Heaven!  Years later when I was in my mid-20's, I took a pottery class when I lived in Birmingham.  My instructor was a doctor's wife who had a three year old daughter who had almost been scalded alive in the bathtub by a baby sitter and who subsequently exhibited all the signs of autism.  This was in 1978 when little was understood about the disorder and wasn't even generally discussed, and even though the instructor was married to a physician, they were at a loss as to how to treat their daughter.  After class one day I told my instructor that I, too, acted similarly as a child but that obviously I had grown "out" of it or at least was able to function "normally."  We spoke at great length about her daughter's behavior and about my behavior during childhood; I don't remember the details except that by the time we finished, she was so relieved that she cried, hugged me, and told me that I had been the first person to give her hope as to her daughter's future.

So what does all this have to do with the paranormal?  I'm already branded a freak by many because of my ability to connect to the other dimensions; do I really want to add another label, especially an additional one of such mystery that most people can't even begin to understand what goes on in a mind that shuts off the rest of the world?

I think the whole point of this blog is to get people thinking about what it means to be different.  Different doesn't mean ignorance or unawareness of how others may perceive the world; different in my case means that I don't understand how "normal" people can think the way that they do :D.  Why are they so slow in seeing the connections?  Why can't they do hours of research that I find fascinating and they find pure drudgery to seek out some semblance of truth?  Why can't they see spirits among each other?  Why is it so hard for them to listen to their intuition?  And why is it so easy for most people to reject outright what I so clearly see both in my mind and physically?

Psychic ability goes way back in my family; in the first remembered incident my greatgrandfather and his brother, both Irish immigrants, were working together one day when they both turned to each other and said, "Our mother is dead."  Their mother was in Ireland; they were in the U.S., and they were correct.  Subsequent generations either ignored their gift or were too embarrassed to admit it; alcoholism is alive and well in the Murphy genes, and sometimes I wonder if maybe they all drank to avoid "seeing."  Then I came along and loudly shouted that I was psychic (I'm sure there were quite a few giggles of disbelief, but it certainly didn't stop me from talking about it - is that a symptom of autism or sheer stubborness?).  It turns out that slowly several of my relatives have contacted me saying that they, too, have a gift.  And I noticed an interesting commonality between us: we're mostly shy, mostly bookworms, and mostly introverted.  I'm clueless as to how they would score on the AQ test, but I feel that they might have a higher than normal test score.

So this begs the question: are we (my relatives and I) more aware of the other dimensions because we're to some degree autistic or did being born with the gift of sensitivity cause us to be autistic?

I was born in 1954 way before vaccines were the norm, and my mother made sure we ate lots of fruits and veggies as opposed to high-carb low nutritional value food (we didn't even have bread at dinner - too "fattening" was my mother's moto), so it wasn't diet or vaccinations.  All I know is that I've always felt acutely uncomfortable in unfamiliar situations, around other people who I don't know, and shy to the point of debilitation.  There was a running joke among my mother, older sister and me about our "phone phobia" in that we all three were/are seized with paralysis when forced to speak on the phone.  The shyness factor I've overcome by forcing myself to make the first introduction and paste a smile on my face, thus allowing others to not feel threatened when they're around me.  I couldn't stand to be touched/hugged/kissed on the cheek until I again forced myself to make hugging a big priority, and now it's not uncommon for me to hug strangers in the grocery store hahaha.  But the issue goes way beyond shyness or awkwardness; it's the fact that I pick up on subtle factors that others may miss.  If you're angry, I'm angry, if you're sad, I'm sad.  I can pick that up in a heartbeat, and large crowds overwhelm me to the point of extreme exhaustion.  In my work as an esthetician/healer I can only work part-time or every other day because of the absorption of others' misery or elation.  This is not uncommon in some psychics (empaths), and it's certainly not uncommon among autistic people. But whereas the empaths might do mental exercises to form a protection barrier around them so that they can "ignore" all those emotions floating around, it's almost impossible for me to do that.  Mind over matter just sometimes can't be overcome when you're too sensitive.

I am friends on Facebook with quite a few psychics who are on the radio, do television appearances, are well known and constantly promote/market their talents.  My website just sits, waiting for someone to stumble across it so that I can hopefully do a reading for them.  Meanwhile my husband's exacerbated waiting for me to start bringing in a decent income and is full of suggestions as to how to start selling my herbal remedies, lotions, quilts and psychic gift (he often asks me, "you didn't give away another recipe, did you???  You need to start copyrighting or patenting these things, including your quilt designs!").  The thought of self-promotion horrifies me!  Those who know me are well aware that self-doubt is not in my vocabulary, but having to face multiple clients at one time is a thought I can't even imagine.  Do I believe that everyone should hire me as their psychic counselor or herbal guru?  Absolutely! After all, I'm fabulous!  But just the thought of having to promote myself is debilitating, and not in the way that most people think: it's not the fact that I can't do it (as in people who whine about not being able to move on or can't imagine the future - my advice to them is the same as I've done with myself: just do it and enjoy/learn from the journey!), it's the fact that if I self-promoted I'd have people looking at me (don't touch me! don't look at me! :D).  Is this because I'm in some way autistic or is it because I'm psychic and instantly start downloading another's life story, including deceased loved ones?

And speaking of Facebook, I've also noticed that some people who aren't professional psychics but who are sensitive in some way like to do what I consider "out psychic the psychic."  If I write about something paranormal or a feeling I've gotten or even a sychronicity, or if someone asks me a question about my thoughts on something out of the ordinary that occurred, the comments from those people will be either derision or the fact that they knew "that" ages ago or someone in their family felt "that" worse than I did.  And often their answers to someone's question will be way off, in my opinion - my trying to get a word in edge wise about why the answer may be erroneous is overridden by their insistence that there's only one viewpoint (theirs and not mine, because what do I know - how could I possibly know the real answer when they, who've been reading alt sites and believe those answers to be the one and only truth, are regurgitating those same lies as fact, know all the answers, and my gift is small in comparison according to them).  I just sigh and move on - too much over stimulation and bombardment.   I love feedback as in "I thought/felt/saw that too" or "I don't see it that way at all" (confirmation is always a wonderful thing, as is healthy opposition!) but guys!  This isn't a contest! We are all one - get it?  We are all connected to each other and to the universe at large so it stands to reason that we all should be able to see and feel what each other is seeing and feeling.  Well, we don't all connect, unfortunately, and is my ability to look inward a curse or a gift?  While some people would consider my stubbornness for getting some semblance of truth out there cockiness or elitism (thus trying to "out psychic the psychic"), I see it as a genuine compulsion for trying to get everyone to understand even briefly what I see in that otherworld/inner world; while some think my comments mean I think my opinion is the only one that matters, it's not so much that I think that way as it is that I've spent years and years looking inward/researching/using my universal connections to reach that opinion - and if you can't understand the difference in the two concepts, I really can't help you.  One of my favorite quotes is from the movie "Broadcast News" because it resonates deeply within me:  When told "It must be nice to always believe you know better, to always think you're the smartest person in the room", Holly Hunter's character whispers, "No, it's awful." And that's exactly how I so often feel.

My request to anyone reading this blog is to start thinking about "different" and how "different" is not a choice in any culture or any walk of life.  It. Just. Is.

The movie Hereafter, Mediums in General & an Odd Incident at the Mall

Jeff and I went to see the Clint Eastwood-directed movie "Hereafter" starring Matt Damon.  It's a slow, thoughtful film which meanders through the lives of three people with their lives converging at the end.  Matt plays a nonpracticing psychic whose life is lonely because he can no longer tolerate seeing death and sorrow on a daily basis.  This struck a chord with me since my dreams are filled with the awful, final meaning of death to those of us still on this plane of existence.  So far in my life, the only time I'm visited by missing loved ones, whether they're human or animal, is when the loved one has already died.  I wish it weren't so!  I'd love to be able to say that a loved one is still alive, just waiting to be rescued, but that's not how it works (for me). 

In the movie another character, a young boy who is a surviving twin seeks out psychics in order to communicate with his brother.  The psychics in the movie are depicted as questionable, at best, with the exception of Matt.  What struck me as significant, however, was that while Matt's character could envision the loved one, he didn't know their names, just could describe what they physically looked like.  That's how my gift works, too - I see the spirits, but I have no idea what their names are.  In the psychic world, which can be snobby and backstabbing - trust me!, most mediums will tell you that that's a fault, that you're not very good if you aren't shown  what the spirit's name is.  But I've noticed that most mediums "fish" for names, too - "Do you know anyone whose name begins with a 'D'?"  I don't go that route; the few times I've been shown names have been in my dreams, and those are of people who might be strangers to me but are very much alive.  Another thing about many mediums:  they don't actually see the spirit.  They may see shadows: a large one is an adult, a tall one is a grandparent, a small one is a child.  Then they download symbols which, through their experience, have meaning: an apple can mean that the spirit was a teacher, for instance.  My gift includes symbols sometimes, but in a more pronounced way: if I'm visited by a spirit who believes strongly in education or was well-educated him/herself, he/she might be standing in a library or some other institution of learning.  If the spirit loved to fish, he'll be standing on a dock or in a fishing shack (which also gives me a clue as to where he lived - ice fishing is only in the northern states).  In any event, I was just really, really pleased to see that even though Matt Damon played a fictional character, whoever wrote the movie understood that not all mediums see things exactly alike.

Which also made me think of connections to the spirit world.  If you ever go to a medium and he/she is stumbling to give you answers, you're probably not connecting to one another AND he/she isn't connecting to your loved ones.  It happens.  A reputable psychic should give you a refund and ask that you see another medium.  Also in a psychic reading sometimes what the spirit is showing the medium won't make sense to you at first.  It's a good idea to take notes or have the session taped so that you can go back later and think about what was said.  Many times information isn't confirmed until several months later, at which point you have an "eureka" moment when you think, "OMG, so THAT'S what she was talking about!"

If a psychic voluntarily gives her services to you, as in a missing person's case, by all means take it!  Just know that what the psychic may be seeing is from the viewpoint of the missing person.  In other words, if the person is lost and confused, the images will be, as well.  The hope is always that someone will recognize and can interpret the images so that the loved one is found, but the psychic should be the last person who can interpret what is seen - she doesn't know the loved one personally, nor is she likely to know the area where the person is mentally sending images.  Keep that in mind!

Please keep in mind, too, that we charge for our services (if not volunteered) because that's how we make our living.  We consider ourselves professionals, much as any other business person considers him/herself to be a professional. While there are some mediums who charge outrageous fees for very little effort, most mediums would just like to be able to help support their families, and readings can take a deep toll, much as it did to Matt Damon's character.  It's not easy to get constant downloads of pictures that a spirit is sending and then try to verbalize what you've been shown to a client.  It's certainly never easy to be constantly bombarded by loss, sorrow and pain.  Many mediums, therefore, also suffer physically no matter how many spiritual shields of protection they may put in place before and after a reading.  Personally, I'm also an empath, which means that I feel your pain and your sorrow and that of your loved one just as deeply as you do, and I suffer greatly as a result.  So please don't take advantage of my kind nature in asking me to do free readings for you (family and personal friends are an exception :D); my gift is not to be taken lightly nor to be taken advantage of, especially when I spend so much time and energy gathering the information.

This also leads me to another point: if you ask for my intuitive advice on personal matters and then ignore what I've just told you because you don't agree with it OR think your way is better, you're doing yourself a huge disservice by not listening to your own inner voice.  You wouldn't have asked me the question(s) to begin with if you were certain about the outcome.  For instance, if you tell me that you think your husband is cheating on you and what should you do, and I reply (after meditating on it, then pulling a card for verification) that you should not give him another second's thought, that your journey is to keep moving forward irregardless of whether he's with you or not, and then you tell me that oh, no, he loves you, you can't live without him, I'm wrong, etc. etc., you haven't been paying much attention to what your gut's telling you.  You wouldn't have asked me to begin with if you were so certain of his love, would you?  Just because you didn't like the answer is no reason to ignore what's been told to you.  Conversely, if you had a medium telling you that all was love and light but you think otherwise, please pay attention to your intuition!  A psychic cannot predict the future, ever; the future is constantly changing because we all have free will to change our lives at any time we so desire.  What she is able to do is to help guide you on your journey.  I might "see" someone who has had multiple miscarriages with a baby in her arms, but will it be this pregnancy that comes to term?  Maybe, maybe not, although I'll definitely be hoping, right along with the mother, that it is, and even if I don't see any complications doesn't mean that there won't be any.  Make sense?  The law of nature is that it's unpredictable, and you should always be prepared for a change in direction.
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I also want to share a little experience we had standing in line to buy tickets for "Hereafter."  A young man in front of us who was tall, looked Middle Eastern, wore jeans, long, baggy sweatshirt and a white knit/crochet cap on his head, said in broken English to the ticket seller that he wanted to see the first available movie - he didn't care what it was . The seller looked amused, pointed to the show times on the huge board behind him, then said, "The first movie is "Hereafter" and starts at 2:45."  The young man kept repeatedly asking the seller about times and movies, then suddenly asked, "What is "Hereafter"?"  The seller then pointed across the lobby to the poster of "Hereafter."  The young man then asked how much the ticket was. "$9.50" was the reply, and the young man searched his pockets, then shrugged and walked away.  I watched him as he was walking, and he headed toward the exit of the mall (we were at the multiplex AMC at Tyson's).  It suddenly struck me that wouldn't a movie theatre, especially a huge one such as the AMC at Tyson's, be a perfect place for someone to plant a bomb?  The theatre's surrounded by restaurants and is a busy place.  I am NOT prejudiced nor racist and in fact personally know and like quite a few people who are Islamic, but this young man was giving off really weird vibes, which is what made me pay attention to him to begin with, and in fact I would have noticed him if he had been a blue-eyed, blonde-headed surfer-dude, his aura was so far off.  Later after the movie when we got in the car to go home and I talked about this, Jeff said that his company had received a terrorist alert that "credible" sources are reporting that restaurants in the D.C. area are the latest target by jihadists in order to kill as many people as possible in one fell swoop.  Was this young man a threat or just wasting time waiting on a friend to get off work?  Who knows; if he was a threat, he couldn't afford the ticket (makes me laugh) but if your intuition starts humming, please be alert for possible threats, whether real or imagined.  It just might save your life.

Spirit Connections or is it all in your mind('s eye)? And what I've learned from my Navajo Guide

For the last several days I was thinking about the electromagnetic field, more specifically that spirits often physically register their presence by recording a reading on an EMF (electromagnetic field) meter.  When we lived in Bluemont, I often performed a base reading of various rooms in the house, and all the readings were normal.  Then, whenever I felt a spirit near, I would turn on the meter, and sure enough, the meter would zoom like crazy.  I used to watch Ghost Hunters on SyFy, and whenever they encountered large spikes of EMF readings, they'd naturally first check the electric grid in the house: were the wires exposed, giving off higher-than-normal readings, or was the electrical box out of date, etc.   If the wiring is faulty on a home and causes a spike in EMF recordings, the home's occupants can suffer from a sense of being watched (paranoia), nausea, hallucinations, and other maladies.  If the electrical grid can be ruled out, the Ghost Hunters reason that a spirit is causing the EMF meter reading to be elevated.

For whatever reason (y'all know I don't question why I get these thoughts - they seem to pop up out of nowhere), I was wondering if perhaps those maladies are real.  For those of us who routinely deal with the other world, we know that spirits often manipulate electronic gadgets in order to gain our attention.  The tv or radio may suddenly go on the blitz; for me, my computer mouse taking on a life of its own is usually my first physical sign that a spirit is close by.  So if manipulation of electronics and a higher than normal EMF reading are verifiable signs that a spirit is present, and everything is considered to be made up of electrons, AND we can often connect to each other mentally through electric pulses in our brains, why can't it follow that a whacked-out electric box only heightens the awareness of the presence of a spirit?  Even though a lot of us are ultra-sensitive to the other world, most people are not.  Maybe having a faulty electric wiring problem in one's home could cause that person to suddenly be "tuned in" to the other world, instead of negating that spirits are truly present.  If you've never believed in "ghosts" and then start experiencing what we sensitives experience on a routine basis, you, too would feel as if you were hallucinating, be nauseous, get headaches, and seriously consider that you were going a bit insane!  Just something else to think about... .
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I had a dream visit from an childhood friend named Sally.  In the dream we were at a lodge with a big stone fireplace behind us as we sat on a couch chatting.  She looked healthy, lovely and vibrant and was wearing apres-ski style clothes (sweater, jeans, boots).  She kept a hand placed over her chest, much in the way some people do as they speak, although I had never known Sally to do that before (but I haven't seen her in years and years).  She told me that she missed her children but could see that they were all doing well and were happy and that she was so pleased with how they had turned into such wonderful adults.  She then went on to say that she wanted me to call her husband (who was also a childhood friend of mine) and tell him that he needed to be more in touch with his childhood friends than he currently is, that it was very important that he do so.  I woke up thinking, "Is Sally dead?", so I messaged another friend who told me that Sally had suddenly and unexpectedly died 10-15 years ago of a heart/aorta problem.  I was stunned, to say the least, but it explains why she kept her hand on her chest; I believe she was showing me how she died (I'm still learning what symbols spirits use to show me the message they're trying to get across).
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On another topic, I use Breathe-Rite strips at night because my sinuses get blocked.  I woke up the other morning to find my Breathe-Rite strip taping my right eye shut.  I posted this on Facebook, and one of my dear friends wrote to tell me that at the same time I posted, she was in the middle of an interview for a security guard position and was explaining to the interviewer that she might not be a good fit for the position because she's technically blind in her right eye.  I had no idea she was interviewing, much less that she's blind in that eye, but I find it very synchronistic that in my guides' own way, they were giving me a head's up.  Now, if I can only be given NAMES to go along with the visions, I'd be a happy psychic, indeed :D!
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Earlier in the week I was in a conversation with another friend of mine who was curious about my Navajo medicine man guide who started visiting me in my dreams back in 2005/2006 speaking in Navajo, which I then had to wake myself up in order to translate.  One thing I haven't really touched upon in the years that I've written about him is that he's shown me numerous plants with which to use for healing.  He's shown me what the plants look like in their natural state, how to crush them or eat them whole or make them into a tea, and what all they're useful for.  When I've awakened from my visits with my guide, I've then gone on to research the plants on line to get further information.  Here are a few of the plants that he's shown me (perhaps one day I'll write a book about all of it, and I'll include every bit of knowledge he's passed on to me):

Elderberry extract (ONLY the extract, not the juice) reduces the symptoms of flu and completely cures the fever. He showed me how ingesting the berries would cure cancer*. I woke up after one session with my guide, turned on the computer, and immediately googled "elderberry extract" without knowing why - soon found out though!

Clary sage which is, of course, used to smudge spirits away, but can also be used as a sort of incense during meditation. In its essential oil form, you can put a little in your palms, inhale while thinking about a problem, and the answer will be shown (he actually showed me crushing the sage and doing this, but I keep a lot of essential oils on hand and find it's just as effective).

Honey as an all-purpose healing agent for skin wounds and internal wounds.  Though not a herb or root, he showed me the huge benefit of honey; I now use honey in my salves, toners, moisturizers and lotions - it's also wonderful mixed with clay, tea tree oil and lavender essential oils and used as a mask for oily/pimply skin. But its wound-healing properties are outstanding!

Clay  - Clay was a big deal to him, as well - it's also a cure-all.

Yarrow - He showed me how to make a tea out of yarrow to stop a headache and cure bruising, and to mix it with clay and honey as a poultice to aid in wound healing.  He told me that if you have cancer, you can make a tea out of yarrow and drink it as a substitute for other drinks, and your cancer can be cured.*
 
Pine Cones - He showed me how to crack open a pine cone to extract seeds to eat for protein and also that the inner bark of the tree can be eaten for vitamins.

* note: I have NO idea if this works as a cancer cure, and would encourage anyone who has cancer and reads this to please continue to see your doctor, although the yarrow tea and elderberry berries would be a wonderful addition to your treatment.

Lots of Strange Goin's On

For the last week, so many odd events have happened.  A few days ago, The Girls were all asleep in the office while I was on the computer, and Jeff was asleep on the couch/watching tv in the den.  All of the sudden Gertie let out a blood-curdling howl, as if she had been visited by the dead.  The other Girls leaped up and stared at her, but she had already gone back to sleep and was snoring loudly.  I thought Jeff had died - I couldn't think of why else she would howl like that - but I was afraid to go into the den to find out.  I finally went in to check, and there was Jeff, sitting up, drinking tea and watching a movie on the tube.  Ha!  Good one, Gert!

Meanwhile, my computer has been on the fritz, particularly whenever I respond to someone else's paranormal happenings on Facebook.  My mouse refuses to cooperate, and typing is frustrating, at best (lots and lots of skipped letters to where my comments look like gibberish).  One paranormal author - Marie Jones - with whom I'm friends usually has many FB postings, but whenever I comment on anything she's written, she's suddenly removed from my list of friends and I can't see what anyone else has said as a comment to her post; the status stays that way for about two days.  I printed out her FB page the last time this happened, and here's what it looks like to me after I post a comment: 

Today when I meditated I dreamed of my brother, Ricky.  I haven't seen my brother in at least 20 years, although he lives not too far away in the great State of Georgia, and I have never dreamed about him before, ever.  We were supposed to be taking someone to the airport to fly away, and my sister Theresa and my husband Jeff were with us, as well.  We were all waiting at an outdoor area/outdoor cafe, and I kept finding single earrings - most had little diamonds in them.  At one point another woman (unknown to me) tried to snatch the earrings away from me, but I refused to let her see them.  Both Jeff and Ricky were dressed in somber, black-striped suits, but Theresa and I were dressed casually, and I kept asking if we were still going to all go.  Finally, Theresa shook her head and looked so sad and said, "No, K-K, we're not all going."  And with that, in this world, The Girls started pawing at me to come back to life; they have a habit of doing that whenever I dream of something that's disturbing, although I'm not sure the significance (if any) of this dream.  But my final glimpse of that other world was that of my brother standing by my table, searching the distance for ...something...someone.

I'm a huge fan of smudging, which is taking a bundle of sage, lighting it, blowing it out, and taking the now bundle of smoke to all the corners of the house and asking unfriendly spirits to leave.  My friend Pam, though, told me about another method in which you make a pyramid out of epsom salt (the salt acts as a conduit to releasing the negativity), make an indentation in the center and put about a thimble-full of alcohol in the crater, and then lighting it.  For each room, you have to make a new batch up, so disposable pie tins are probably a good thing to use.  The mixture changes to a black smoot whenever a negative energy is encountered - the darker the burn, the darker the energy.  So, I decided to try that today :D.  The den is negative-energy free, while the office had a small amount of black smoot.  Very interesting!  I'm taking that to mean that, as is normally the case, the active spirit(s) currently at home with me are just trying to get my attention but have no ill-intentions.

Another odd incidence is that today, after I meditated and wanted to write about my dream, FB was down (not so odd but it all adds up), blogspot was down and my website's Ghost Blog was down (I thought if I clicked on the link at the Ghost Blog that it would be faster than to retry to get into blogspot the usual way, but the entire page at my own website wasn't loading properly, although the rest of the site was normal).

Genocide

I dreamed that many people were under surveillance and disappeared (murdered by those in power) - much in the way the Jewish people were disappearing from neighborhoods during the Nazi regime.  But this was a modern day setting, and no one knew why anyone was disappearing because there didn't seem to be a commonality among those who were gone.

I found myself staying at a hotel or dormitory setting and got to know many of the other residents.  It was understood that we were all being watched, but it had become a fact of life, and we just accepted Big Brother as our new normal.

One day a few of us were sitting in a common room chatting and watching television, when a door opened and a good friend (in my dream, unknown to me in this world) of mine came over to me and said, "I have to go.  It's my time."  He was an extraordinarily tall man, about 6'6" with blonde hair, about 35-40 years old.  His eyes looked smaller than normal, as if he had been crying, although no tears were visible as he spoke to me.  His words meant that he was about to disappear, and I stood up and gave him a long, heartfelt hug.  Another man stood with him, who was also about to disappear., but although I had seen the other man on several occasions, I didn't know his name.  This man was in his thirties, wore glasses, was average height, and looked a bit like a nerd - I got the feeling he was a techie.

At that moment, another man entered the room.  This guy was wearing business casual clothes, and looked entirely normal, except I knew he was there to escort my two friends to their deaths.  He nodded at my friends, and they both gave me one last pleading look, meaning "we desperately want this to stop, yet no one will do anything."

I woke up with the word "complacency" on my mind.  We should never become complacent about any harmful actions by others, and we should never accept brutality and genocide and inhumane actions against our fellow man, no matter how much those in charge or those around us wish us to think of it as "normal."

A dream of religion and art

I dreamed I was visiting some friends (unknown to me in the waking world), one of whom worked for the Catholic Diocese of New Orleans as a social worker and counselor and who traveled extensively all over the world in her position.  Over the years she had sent me numerous brochures, postcards and pictures representing different artists' views of Biblical scenes and figures as displayed within the world-wide Catholic communities.  I then would turn the media she sent into art: collages, picture quilts, huge paintings using mixed media, and on and on.

I woke up with this thought: I'm turning one man's religion into another man's art, and it all has a divine purpose.

After much contemplation, here's my interpretation of the dream: I've definitely had enough with the religious wars and holier-than-thou attitudes: how am I going to Hell when I die when I know that Hell is this life on earth and definitely not in the next plane of existence?  Why on earth would you pray for my soul, when my soul is happy and laughing and wonder-filled with all that is?  Why is your religion a one-way ticket straight to heaven and therefore your God, when God is actually right here in each of us, and we have the power right now to be connected to each other and perform divinely instead of waiting an eternity for a deity to come to humanity's rescue?  You and your divine connection to each of your fellow beings is the deity who will rescue you - that's the lesson and the learning step God has implanted in each of us.  I've also had enough of why is one religion being thought of as more favorable over another and why are most organized religions trying to suppress what is unique in each of us?  Get over yourselves!  We are each uniquely divine and a work of art, some starting off as mere images, while others part of a cohesive whole.

A visit by my mother

My mother visited me last night in my dream and urged me to establish contact with one of my childhood friends.  I was slightly exasperated, and I told her, "Mom!  I'm friends with her on Facebook, I read her blog all the time, and I have her e-mail address!"  My mother smiled, apparently pleased, and I woke up.  I have no idea why I'm supposed to be in contact with my friend, but I messaged her this morning re the dream, and as with all mysterious messages, I reckon we'll find out when the time comes.

At around 2:30 this morning I was awakened by what sounded like someone having an asthma attack. At first I thought it was Jeff, who snores, but then realized it wasn't. The person was truly unable to catch his/her breath and was sucking in a tremendous amount of air. As I was laying there wondering who on earth was in so much trouble and should I call the police?, Gertie woke up and heard the noise, too. She leaped off the bed and ran around the house barking furiously, while I took that opportunity to look out the windows. At one point I even thought the breathing was coming from my closet, then it seemed as if it was coming from the other bedroom - talk about being terrified! There was not a soul outside OR in the closet, and Maggie and Sadie stayed in bed, not hearing anything (except Gertie's barking). Jeff FINALLY woke up (hahahaha), and looked out the windows but didn't hear the breathing EITHER - I kept saying, "Don't you HEAR that?!" After several minutes, the noise just vanished, and I had goose bumps all over my arms wondering who that poor soul was, and should I still call the police even though Gertie and I couldn't hear anything anymore? I didn't call the police because since only Gertie and I heard it, I really felt it was probably paranormal in nature but still made a mental note to check our walkway for blood (gruesome, I know). And in case you think I should have called the police anyway (hey! I'm still thinking I should have, too, when I
first heard the breathing), our neighborhood has so many street lights that the whole area is completely illuminated to the point where there really isn't anywhere for a person to hide or go unnoticed - a lot of my neighbors walk their dogs at all hours because it's so well-lit.

When I read my e-mail this morning at around 7:00, I had an e-mail sent at 1:39 a.m. from one of my neighbors who lives two blocks away to all of us in the 'hood. At around 1:00 a.m. a young woman had been driving through the neighborhood, jumped a curb and slammed into that neighbor's car parked in the driveway, causing considerable damage, then reversed her car and drove erratically away, out of the neighborhood and onto a main road in the opposite direction of my house. The neighbor was sending out an e-mail alert for information re the car/driver - the neighbor had been awake when it all happened and saw the make and model of the car, as well as the driver.

To my knowledge, it's still an unsolved hit and run. But I'm wondering if the driver suffered a chest wound or an air bag injury and may have died or been unconscious at around 2:30 when Gertie and I heard the breathing. I'll e-mail my neighbor and ask her to keep me updated if they find the driver - I'd really like to know!

Uh oh:  I woke up this morning to an overwhelming, deadly smell of petroleum.  I'm not sure what I had been dreaming about because, unfortunately, The Girls were waking me with multiples kisses (must have been a really awful dream for all 3 to comfort me at once).  Later this morning as I was filling the car's tank (makes me cringe!), my credit card wouldn't go back into the wallet slot; I found out why when I saw a ribbon, pulled it out, and attached was a St. Francis medal.  St. Francis is the Patron Saint of Animals, Birds, Fire, Merchants and Solitary death.  The last time I saw this medal was when I ordered it about 3 or 4 months prior to 9/11/01. Beginning around May or June of 2001, I had been having nightmare after nightmare of a nuclear holocaust, with one vivid dream of an airplane propeller slicing through a crowd of people in New York.  I felt desperate for protection, and although born into a family of Catholics, I wasn't raised in the Catholic Church and knew very little about the saints.  I researched online for a patron saint (guardian angel?), found St. Francis and ordered a medal for both Jeff and I to carry in our wallets.

An all-encompassing smell of petroleum, followed by my guardian angel's icon: I'm sensing we creatures of Earth all need a little (a lot???) protection in the months to come...

Today's my birthday, and I had two phenomenal experiences!  First:  the spirits of my mother and grandparents visited me; as I was mowing the yard at around 2:00 this afternoon, I distinctly smelled: steak, then sugar/cake, and finally Tabu perfume. Miss y'all, love y'all ♥  Second otherworldly experience of the day: after my shower, I opened the medicine cabinet to get my moisturizer and into the palm of my hand fell my engagement ring; I placed it in my lingerie chest a couple of years ago when it no longer fit. Don't know how it got in the medicine cabinet or who dropped it into my palm, but I said, "Okay - I guess I need to wear this", and voila! it fits again (I've lost 25 lbs. - woohoo!)

Tuesday, as I was looking at FB, I got an overwhelming sense of melancholy, then extreme (and I mean EXTREME) depression, then hatred for everybody on FB.  I thought to myself that no one gave a damn what I had to say, no one loved me (family-wise), my friends just wanted to use me for their own benefit, and on and on.  So, I cried and cried, deleted my FB account, and thought, good, now I can move on AND I was seriously thinking about making a doctor's appointment to get on some sort of anti-depressant - the depression was all-encompassing, and I was so very, very sad.

When Jeff came home, I told him what I had done, and I said "Let the past remain in the past, it's time for me to move forward.  It's not healthy for me to feel this way, and I can't afford to not be healthy!"

As a back story to all of this, I've had 4 dreams, starting about 3 or 4 months ago, of my stepfather dying.  All 4 of us children have not spoken to him in many, many years, and it's been at least 30 years since I've had any meaningful contact with him (I saw him at my mother's funeral in 1988, but we barely spoke).  When I was growing up, he was a wealthy, privileged man who abused all of us horribly, and my younger sister, who is his only "real" child, was beaten so severely as a child that she had to have kidney surgery when she was in elementary school.  She quit speaking to him about 7 years ago when he started favoring one of her boys (she has two - both are adults and one now has a child) over the other and was dismissive toward the less favored one.

So, Tuesday morning I clearly saw Jamison (the stepfather) take a pistol and shoot himself under the chin.  Since this was my 4th dream of him, I really didn't think anything more of it until yesterday when my older sister called, telling me Jamison was dead and had committed suicide by shooting himself (although not in the chin).  Apparently, he had been suffering some strokes for the last couple of months, and decided to end it all.

The bizarre part comes in because apparently I not only witnessed him doing it (the other 3 dreams were of his death, not the way in which he died), but all of his rage, melancholy, hatred was transferred to me on Tuesday, or rather, it was played out for me, only I didn't realize why I felt the way I did when it was all happening.  Now everything makes sense, and thank god I'm no longer feeling that way (and no doctor's visit for anti-depressives, lol).

So I'm off of FB for good - if I can feel all those emotions from a man I loathed
and NEVER thought of, think of what I feel on a daily basis from friends' posts.  I
try and try to block out all those emotions, but I'm not having any success, and
I'm never certain from whom it's coming.  When I deal with clients one-on-one, I
know exactly why I'm having those emotions, and giving facials is always a
healing time, for me and the client.

And here's one more bizarre twist to this whole thing:  Jamison's obituary has not been posted yet, nor has there been a news story about a suicide or shooting or anything.  I guess his body must be at the coroner's office, either awaiting an autopsy or something, and maybe that's why nothing's been published.  But as to no news stories whatsoever, that just shows me what the rich and powerful can get squashed when they want to (he has a wife, who's a piece of work in her own right).  I've even gone to the different funeral homes' websites in Montgomery (Alabama, where he lived), and nada. My older sister thinks I'm nuts for wanting to even see his obituary, but I'm curious to see who's listed as a survivor - probably just his wife.

Let the past remain in the past, indeed.
UPDATE:  Friday, March 26:  The obituary has posted, and none of us four children are listed as Jamison's survivors (no surprise there), although my sister's son, Jamie, is listed (but not Jason).  It also says he died on Wednesday, which is incorrect, but I'm sure that's because his wife didn't want anyone to know the real date and wonder why it wasn't posted before now. Also, my sister and her other son (Jason) were told they were not welcome at the funeral and to stay away.  Wow.  Just keep heaping the misery on the already miserable, and see what karma has in store for you.
UPDATE:  Saturday, March 27:  Today's obituary posting lists my sister and Jason.
UPDATE:  Monday, March 29:  I've just been told that Jamison did indeed die on Wednesday, NOT on Tuesday, and Jeff finally convinced me to get back on Facebook, although I'll do it in a lessened capacity (read postings, walk away, clear my mind).

Last night right before I went to bed I looked at our bank account online and realized someone had made fraudulent charges on our account.  I knew I had to go the bank this morning to get it straightened out and worried about it all night.  This morning I woke up, took The Girls out, and saw a fish (plastic, I think, lol) in the tree in the backyard.  Huh?  A fish? I immediately thought, oh, okay, everything's gonna be just fine - we'll always have food to eat.  Sure enough, I went to the bank, all the charges were credited back to our account, a new card's been issued, and the sorry s-o-b who hacked into our account is now being hunted down.  When I got back home, The Girls and I went outside again, and poof! no fish.  Anywhere.  I looked all over the yard, the trees, the bushes, and no fish.  Sometimes whenever in doubt, keep your eyes open for a sign and you just might be surprised with what you find - Life Is Good!

I had my first dream of dying by fire.  I was in a sports car which kept going faster and faster, and I lost control.  I thought to myself Just shift into neutral, then steer the car off the road.  I looked down at the shifter controls, and all I saw were numbers: 55111, 55112, 55113, etc. scrolling rapidly through a view-window.  I steered the car off road, sped through a meadow/woods area, then emerged to a sudden drop off to a road below.  As the car was flying through the air, I kept thinking Maybe I can survive this, but mid-air I saw that a tanker truck was passing on the road below, and I was headed straight for it.  The car slammed into the truck, and I still thought Maybe I'll survive this somehow anyway, but then I felt the heat of the explosion engulf my body, and my last thought was Oh, crap.  I didn't suffer - except for the initial heat, death was instantaneous.  I hope if anyone reads this, and their loved one has died from a fiery auto accident, they'll be comforted to know that he/she did not suffer.

Jeff and I were just outside in the backyard with The Girls when a hawk flew straight at us (Jeff and I, NOT The Girls), screeching the entire time he was flying and staring directly at us.  The hawk represents power, magic and messenger. According to Lin's Domain: "A Red-Tailed Hawk Totem is special. It has direct ties to the Kundalini, the seat of primal life force.It is associated with the base chakra. If you have this Totem, you will be aware of and work towards fulfilling your soul's purpose. It reflects a greater intensity of energy within your life: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual forces will all be strong within you. It is associated with the number "14" with the Tarot card Temperance. This card represents the teaching of higher expressions of psychic ability and vision."  Since I read Tarot from the Druid deck, this card is extremely auspicious and indicates that we're entering a phase of successful creative endeavor.  Sweet!