Freaky Dreams & Blah Chick Disguises

 I dream of men before I meet them.

I dreamt of my high school sweetheart when I was fourteen and actually drew a picture of him.  I wrote songs about what I visualized us doing but never could get his name...so the songs have different names.  When Tom saw that he threw my tablature notebook at me and flew into a jealous rage at a bus station. 

A handsome young man and his friend pulled him off of me and helped me onto the bus.

Now, that young man is middle aged and living in the basement apartment.  We married eleven years after that bus stop experience.    

I dreamt of Michael when I was seven years old.  In the dreams, he was always on top of me, but at the time, I couldn't understand what that meant.  It was a crushing feeling in my chest. 

I don't want to write about those dreams.   


I did write several songs that described our future relationship before I was fourteen.  The worst was one titled 'Silver Shackles'... I think that describes our marriage quite nicely. It feels like a prison with lots and lots of sparkly things. 

I'd rather have freedom and smiles than tears and jewelry.


I'll keep mum on the dream inspired poetry I wrote describing Tom re-entering my life as an old man.

Dreams are interesting....

When I was living with my Satanist friend, Anton, I would dream of both Tom and Mike. 

I would cry about Tom in my sleep and it interfered with the loud parties he and his buddies had in the living room, so Anton and his coven cast a spell to release my pain.  That way I wouldn't be a downer during the mushroom-fest.

I didn't know what they were doing until Tom found me (some twenty-five miles away) and threw my Satanist roommate into a beer case at a convenience store.  Then I discovered some of my things missing and asked why he needed my hairbrush.  Anton explained things to me. 

I learned on that day that to cut a soul-mate out of your aura tends to bring them to you rather quickly.  It's best to send them love and well wishes than to push them away.

When I did that, Tom went away for a long time and, from what I hear, found love.

Anton cast a spell to help me find the one I was supposed to be with.  As I slept one night, he yanked me out of bed and told me to lead him to the place I saw.  In a trance and in my bedclothes, I walked at least thirty blocks with my friend holding my hand.  I stopped by a Christian church at the point where Broadway (the main road in town) turned into Brighton Boulevard (a tiny street in the warehouse district).  Anton told me to tell him my love's name.  The name that came to me was Something John. 

Would you care to guess what Michael's middle name is?

Would you care to guess who worked at the warehouse by the place I stopped walking? 

That was far too freaky. 

When I recounted the story to Mike, he said that he used to drive that route in the wee hours of the morning every day when out on the prowl with his friends. 



Anton never forgot.  When I started dating Roscoe, Anton would confront him and cause trouble.  Ross was never good enough.  Anton always found something to yell at him about.  Ross got chewed out for forgetting my birthday, for hanging out at the bars and leaving me home alone.  Now, that I think about it, Anton knew he wasn't the one for me.  I think Anton was a better friend than I gave him credit for being. 

Then there was the day Roscoe tried to kill me. 

Oh, my...that was scary.  He beat me unmercifully and I fell asleep crying.  I awoke by myself the next morning to the sound of pounding on the front door. 

It was Anton.  I hadn't seen him in over two years. 

He spent the day with me.  He took me to lunch and we sat at my favorite park by the flowers and fed the ducks.  We didn't talk much.  He knows how much comfort I get in silence. 

He took me home around 7:30 at night and waited until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door.  Upon the door unlocking, he reached over and gave he a huge kiss and glared at Roscoe. 

I was stunned. 

Ross was stunned. 

Anton left without saying a word. 

Ross refused to talk about it. 

He didn't hit me for awhile after that.  He and his mistress just avoided me and it was not such a bad thing. 


That was the last time I saw Anton until '05 when he pulled up alongside me in a parking lot while I was shopping. 

Anton is one scary man. 


He taught me to trust my intuition and listen to my dreams. 

When I ignore that lesson, crazy things happen. 

When I minimize my dreams by saying that they are the result of my subconscious mind clearing out the crap, they tend to come true. 

I had a dream diary for awhile but when the Tom dreams started in '05, I quit writing them down because they disturbed me.  And, by the way, most of those dreams actually came true. 

I don't know if I want to go into it too much.  I had an astral projection one hot July night and saw Tom's image approach me wearing a green shirt around 3:33 a.m..  I started screaming and woke up the guy in the basement.  I asked him to stay the rest of the night with me because I was freaking out.

That was the night that ruined our relationship because Mike fell asleep and pushed me off the bed in his sleep.  His boss found out and spread a ton of gossip about him beating me and throwing me into walls.  He was blackballed from his profession due to her slander.  I'll never be forgiven for that. 

The next day, I received a notice from a website that Tom had sent me a message around 4:00 that morning.

That was a scary night. 


I keep my astral projections to myself, now due to the trouble that one caused.  I've had others.  Once right before I passed out from my untreated asthma in the shower as the steam made it hard for me to breath, I saw a spirit who told me that I would be okay.  I woke up bruised a few hours later in cold bath water still running.  My ex said he heard a thud but didn't think anything of it. 

Men....


Like I'd take a three hour shower.....sigh...



Another time I ate a candy bar with a cup of coffee and had a blood sugar reaction and fell on the floor.  I could see what was going on but couldn't move or speak. I saw an blue being tell me that he was going to get help.  I know my ex moved me onto the bed and sat next to me trying to wake me up.

I try not to eat so much sugar now. 

My dreams are spooky.  I pay attention to them but don't understand what they mean or why I have them. 

If I say that I am intrigued by the supernatural and metaphysical it is because I truly don't understand those phenomena.  I've seen so much.  It's hard for me to say what is real and what is coincidence.  I truly have no concept of the mechanisms by which such things occur.

And when I think I'm done trying to understand it, something new happens...

A few years ago, I had a dream about an illicit affair with a blond haired man. From the dreams I knew what he did for a living, where he lived previously, and what his hobbies are.

When I met him, I avoided him like the plague until he fell in love with a beautiful young lady.  He still seemed to be everywhere I went.  He offered unique services that I needed, so I sucked it up. 

When I would accidentally ask him questions pertaining to things I shouldn't have known, his jaw would drop and he'd just stare at me. 

I wasn't supposed to know that he missed jet-skiing, or that he was spiritual, or that he will eventually become well known for writing a book helping men connect to their authentic self. 

I wonder why he and his love haven't bought that white car yet?  It's a nice one. 

I wonder if he's started his book. 

I'm his friend now but when we first me...

I was incredibly uncomfortable. 

The dreams were warnings.  I needed to be good so he could find the beautiful person he needed. 



I literally met another man from my dreams today. I've never seen him before, except in the midst of slumber.

It was awkward.

It seemed that this afternoon, he was everywhere I was.   Whenever I saw him, I'd turn tail and walk the other direction.

I know what we did in those dreams and it will not happen in real life.


After I ran into him the third time, I turned around and switched direction only to find a frenemy, who likes to cause trouble, walking towards me. 


I fear what I'll say to her more than I fear any man. 

So....guess who I had to run into?

The universe is going to do what the universe is going to do.

I'm going to do what I feel is best. 


I'm going to be a good girl.


I'm not going to talk to this man who owns his own plumbing business, likes to garden, and has lots and lots of girlfriends.  At least, that's what I see...it may or may not be real. 


I'm not going to attempt to find out if my dreams are accurate. 


I'm going to keep all men at bay until I get my head screwed on straight. 

I'll be this way 'til I'm 64.


So...I decided that I would separate my clothes into two piles:  hot chick disguises and blah chick disguises. 

I usually try to wear my hot chick clothes but, from now on, until I'm sure I won't be a bad girl...

I'm wearing the blah chick disguises. 

I will wear thick glasses, have my hair up in a pony tail, not straighten my curly bangs and wear as little make-up as possible.


I have a pair of huge work-out shoes that have weights inside of them and make me look like I've got man feet.  I'm going to wear those more. 

I also have a size 18 red coat that make me look obese. 

I started wearing that this evening.  No one knows who I am.

Let's see if this works...

I'm sure it will! 

No one wants a middle-aged, blotchy, frumpy old lady!!  Not even the frumpy old men!!

I should mention that I wore this outfit to the store and this young man who chats with everyone and knows all of the customers just stood there staring at me.  I think he recognized me and wondered what the heck was up. 

Maybe I need Groucho Marx glasses and an ugly temporary tattoo on my decolletage instead! 

What would be the biggest turn off in the world? 

I could stuff a TP roll in my pants....that would do the trick! 

Hmmmm...that's probably going too far. 

Love ya,

S.