This video is interesting.
It features a magic painting where one can see what would have happened if he or she didn't say good-bye.
Hmmmm....I wonder.
I don't know if I'd want to look into it.
If I looked into that thing, I'd probably see the love of my life living in a hell hole of my own making.
There is a living, breathing human being that can prove the violent impact of living with Siegfred for twenty years. He lives in the basement.
I'm hard to life with
-yet-
he doesn't want me to move out.
I don't understand.
He'd be the first to tell you....
It's a nightmare.
The house smells like bleach and rose soap ('cuz she's got OCD).
There was no such thing as sleep ('cuz she was a nympho - now she hasn't a partner and just climbs the walls...that's murder on the wallpaper).
The walls need painted (see above).
There is an altar to Venus that has to have fresh pink roses put on it every few days ('cuz she's weird and no, it hasn't helped her get her fix yet - see above).
She has to make her own soap, her own candles, teas, incense, herbal tinctures, her own hair color, beauty products, perfume and most of the make-up (can't do the stage make-up though). Everything smells like roses ('cuz she's got a ton of them). The henna stains the floor tile, but luckily, it's easy to replace. There is a walk-in closet full of herbs. The garden constantly needs tending and there are tons of bottles of liquid all over the place.
Let's see...
Home life would suck.
He'd be fat because Siegfred has to cook when she's pissed, hyper, climbing the walls, or has a ton of energy that she has yet to expend. If she's dieting, she won't eat the food so...it's all yours.
But then, if he takes care of the addiction, he'd probably get enough exercise so there would be no need to worry.
Let's see...
I don't know.
I know I'm bad in relationships, so I'm steering clear of them. I'm praying for those I love so they can find other people to love, too.
I was chewed out by a therapist colleague of mine who claimed that my compulsive praying for the poor was proof that I didn't do anything to help poor them. He wanted me to take action.
Like my educating RINOS and Libertarians about the realities of living in poverty is doing nothing. I've got two research projects in the works, an eBay store dedicated to charity and I constantly chew out politicians.
What else does he want me to do?
Light my candles, pray, and conjure the demons?
NO!
He has no clue about my spirituality but I found his mini-rant amusing.
I should lay off the witch thing, buts its funny what people assume about me. My hobby is weird and inexplicable, even to me. Collecting haunted stuff reminds me that I'm alive (at least when I get something good...which is rare). They are the little mysteries that boggle my mind; no amount of research is going to prove the supernatural. I love research. I love to take a human question and distill it to it's component parts before going back to examine its qualitative gestalt.
I can't do that with the supernatural.
That painting reminds me of some of the toys I have.
I do have little gazing balls that purportedly show me the future. I don't like what I see.
I don't dare write it. I don't dare give life to what I see.
Well, there is something that is so insane, I think its okay to share.
It is NOT going to happen (not in this dimension anyway).
When I first got one gazing ball in '04, I wanted to learn where and when I would earn my doctorate.
I peered into it one night and saw myself at 57. I was married to a man from my past who is making fun of me. We are living in a high rise condo in Chicago. It looks like, what I've come to call an ICLEI community: a bunch of poorly made match-stick dwellings in an all-inclusive community where people are discouraged from owning cars. When I looked outside the large window facing the east, I had to look down to see trolley cars. I can describe the apartment; white walls, tan carpet, tan couch, sparse decoration. There is a main living area facing south which connects to a dining room and kitchen, and little hallway behind it with three doors. The television is hung on the wall and paper thin. There is a framed document beside it, hanging on the wall. He takes it down the document and starts messing with me.
I peered into it one night and saw myself at 57. I was married to a man from my past who is making fun of me. We are living in a high rise condo in Chicago. It looks like, what I've come to call an ICLEI community: a bunch of poorly made match-stick dwellings in an all-inclusive community where people are discouraged from owning cars. When I looked outside the large window facing the east, I had to look down to see trolley cars. I can describe the apartment; white walls, tan carpet, tan couch, sparse decoration. There is a main living area facing south which connects to a dining room and kitchen, and little hallway behind it with three doors. The television is hung on the wall and paper thin. There is a framed document beside it, hanging on the wall. He takes it down the document and starts messing with me.
It is a diploma for an advanced degree, a doctorate in psychology from the University of Chicago.
It has my first and middle names (which I will not type because I'm a brat) and a new last name.
My first name means 'girl'.
My current middle name is his first name.
And the last name on the document is his.
So, in this vision, the man puts his hand over my first name and exclaims that the document belongs to him and he is a doctor. When he covers my first name, all one can see is his first and last name.
Then he removes his hand and says it is mine
before covering it up again and claiming ownership.
He repeats the scene over and over until I distract him with a well placed....uh....tickle*.
I didn't like that vision.
It freaked me out a little.
It freaked me out a little.
I got up and dug up everything that man ever gave me and burned it (or so I thought).
Three and a half years after that vision, he wrote to me.
Three and a half years after that vision, he wrote to me.
So, I met with him to offer friendship.
I also had a witch friend conjure a penny that would attract hordes of hot women his way and found an excuse to give it to him.
I don't think the penny worked, either. He was pretty depressed last time I saw him.
I don't know.
Maybe I'll have her make him another one.
Maybe I'll have her make him another one.
So, if I had a magic painting that could show me what I would have if he didn't say good-bye because I'm annoying, I'm not sure that I'd look into it.
It may be nice, though, feeling his embrace again.
It may be nice, though, feeling his embrace again.
I miss my old friend.
Above all, I enjoy reflecting upon his empowering words: 'dreams [visions] are not reality, [Siegfred], they are all metaphorical.'
So...
take your visions with a grain of salt.
And, I really don't want to sit around and psychoanalyze those dreams. My soul just has a little crush. It'll get over it.....someday. I'm sure of it.
And, I really don't want to sit around and psychoanalyze those dreams. My soul just has a little crush. It'll get over it.....someday. I'm sure of it.
Love ya,
S.
* There was more to that original vision but it borders on what really went down, so I didn't know if I should share.
For me, the gazing balls tend to allow for some type of interaction. I don't know how to explain it but if I have a question, it tends to get answered.
The experience taught me that even if we purport to know the future, we (at least I) am still apt to screw it up.
During that vision, at the point when we were engaging in an activity that made me uncomfortable to watch, I ask him if he ever thought we'd end up this way.
The version of his older self goes on to explain how me met again. He visits with me and senses something is wrong but I don't trust him enough to tell him so he left for a very long time.
He said those years apart hurt him deeply.
In the vision he said that we come together again when I need his help and explained the exact circumstances of that event.
It won't happen because I respect my friend too much to suck him into that drama (which is actually unfolding now but I'm going to save that for another day). I found three other friends who have promised to help me when that day arrives, which it will, sooner than I possibly imagined.
The part about me not telling him what was going on. That's true. It ended up happening.
It wasn't due to mistrust. I trust him. I just don't want to burden him with my drama.
I was embarrassed to realize that he saw the status update on Facebook change to "Separated" the third time my ex walked out the door. I stopped whining about it publicly. I really did change my behavior because I was afraid he was watching.
I promised not to involve him in my drama when I was seventeen years old and in a bad place. He used to want to protect me so much, he'd get angry when people hurt me. I don't want to harm him or stress him out. Crap, he tried to take on a notorious, satanic drug dealer because he thought it would protect me.
That always bugged me.
It's best, right now, to stay quiet and still.
It's not a good place. I cry myself to sleep. I wake up numerous times at night in tears. I don't like my life right now.
I started drinking valarian infused vodka again and that's going to make me fatter. I hate it.
My ex wants me to try to have a relationship with him - yet we will never be together in the way people ought to be together when they are married. We can't sleep in the same room. I can't....figure out...how to.....[damn...I can't even type that because it's so rude].
A 500 pound man is a challenge when you love and trust him. When he's hurt and lied to you so much, it's not even worth the treasure hunt anymore.
I miss treasure.
We are house mates. I'm his nanny/housekeeper. I don't know what to do.
I feel so guilty. When I get my head screwed on straight and I'm no longer looking at my old friend like a starved animal, then I'll tell him what is going on. Once I stop thinking he's cute...or he gets married...or [insert another excuse here].....I'll open up.
It's best I stay quiet. No one understands what is happening. I don't even understand it. How can I explain it?
I trust my friend. I just don't have the words to describe this hell.
Stupid gazing ball. I'd smash it but it scares me a little.
Love ya,
S.
For me, the gazing balls tend to allow for some type of interaction. I don't know how to explain it but if I have a question, it tends to get answered.
The experience taught me that even if we purport to know the future, we (at least I) am still apt to screw it up.
During that vision, at the point when we were engaging in an activity that made me uncomfortable to watch, I ask him if he ever thought we'd end up this way.
The version of his older self goes on to explain how me met again. He visits with me and senses something is wrong but I don't trust him enough to tell him so he left for a very long time.
He said those years apart hurt him deeply.
In the vision he said that we come together again when I need his help and explained the exact circumstances of that event.
It won't happen because I respect my friend too much to suck him into that drama (which is actually unfolding now but I'm going to save that for another day). I found three other friends who have promised to help me when that day arrives, which it will, sooner than I possibly imagined.
The part about me not telling him what was going on. That's true. It ended up happening.
It wasn't due to mistrust. I trust him. I just don't want to burden him with my drama.
I was embarrassed to realize that he saw the status update on Facebook change to "Separated" the third time my ex walked out the door. I stopped whining about it publicly. I really did change my behavior because I was afraid he was watching.
I promised not to involve him in my drama when I was seventeen years old and in a bad place. He used to want to protect me so much, he'd get angry when people hurt me. I don't want to harm him or stress him out. Crap, he tried to take on a notorious, satanic drug dealer because he thought it would protect me.
That always bugged me.
It's best, right now, to stay quiet and still.
It's not a good place. I cry myself to sleep. I wake up numerous times at night in tears. I don't like my life right now.
I started drinking valarian infused vodka again and that's going to make me fatter. I hate it.
My ex wants me to try to have a relationship with him - yet we will never be together in the way people ought to be together when they are married. We can't sleep in the same room. I can't....figure out...how to.....[damn...I can't even type that because it's so rude].
A 500 pound man is a challenge when you love and trust him. When he's hurt and lied to you so much, it's not even worth the treasure hunt anymore.
I miss treasure.
We are house mates. I'm his nanny/housekeeper. I don't know what to do.
I feel so guilty. When I get my head screwed on straight and I'm no longer looking at my old friend like a starved animal, then I'll tell him what is going on. Once I stop thinking he's cute...or he gets married...or [insert another excuse here].....I'll open up.
It's best I stay quiet. No one understands what is happening. I don't even understand it. How can I explain it?
I trust my friend. I just don't have the words to describe this hell.
Stupid gazing ball. I'd smash it but it scares me a little.
Love ya,
S.
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