Warnings from Beyond

I had a dream of my grandfather.

I was raised by my grandparents.  My parents lived with them.  My parents were hippies.  They were crazy artist types.  They weren't very stable nor very kid friendly. 

I spent most of my time with my redheaded grandma and my quiet and reserved grandpa. 

When grandma spoke, people trembled. 

When grandpa spoke, people listened. 

When I was a baby, I liked grapes.  One of my earliest memories was standing out in the backyard with my grandfather planting a grape vine.  He gave me toy gardening tools and said I called him a 'dumb bunny'.  It was spring.  There is a picture of me on a motorized rabbit scooter type toy. 

I don't think I called grandpa the dumb bunny but, nonetheless, for the next twenty-seven years he would chuckle about that. 

When I was five, we sat at the kitchen table eating peaches.  I asked him why people had no food if we could grow peaches from the seeds.  He planted two peach trees, one with his seed and one with mine. 

The tree first bore fruit when I was ten.   He gave the fruit away once it came.  We spent days canning it.  We canned peaches, made preserves, even grape jelly.  I miss those days. 

We grew raspberries, strawberries and rhubarb, too.  The back yard was lined in pink roses with little pockets of daisy's to play with. It was a little girl's paradise. 

When he had a stroke, my greedy uncle sold the house out from under him.  I tried to get a loan to buy it back for him but I didn't earn enough money.    It was a big house. 

I loved my grandpa. 

He had blue eyes and glowed neon when he was happy.  The first boy I fell in love with had the same quality. 

Grandpa liked that boy.  I never told him when we broke up, I just quit bringing my friend over.  For years, my relatives would ask about him (not caring who was in the room...this led to quite a few marital spats). 

Every man I brought home after that was met with disapproval and a comparison to my best friend from high school. 

Grandpa wasn't very thrilled when I got married.  He didn't say much about it only that I was investing far too much time with my fiancee's family and not enough time doing what made me happy. 

Grandpa knew. 

I wish I would have listened. 

I gave up college to stay in town after Grandpa was diagnosed with cancer.  My grandmother had died just a few months before and it was easy to see the pain in his face.  I would visited him three times a week and moved a couple of blocks away.  It was hard to be apart from him.  We were always so close. 

He died shortly after my twenty-ninth birthday.  I've always felt lost without him. 

He visits me in my dreams and tells me what to expect. 

I've learned not to ignore him. 

He'll warn me about stuff, tell me when to see the doctor, when to fix the car, where to invest money... when I ignore the dreams bad stuff happens.


In '06, he told me he would bring my old friend back to visit to talk some sense into me.  He told me that it was being set up with my friend's father and a woman (an aunt?)....I don't know.  He gives the name 'Robinson'.  I don't know what that means....but I write it all down for later reference. 

In '07, he told me that my friend was doing drugs and drinking a lot.  I was supposed to get licensed as a drug counselor in order to understand the pain my friend was enduring.  I did my best to follow through...but...life got in the way. 

I have a dream diary where I document the dreams. 

The last one I had was a little freaky (and funny). 

In this dream, I'm visiting with him and several deceased relatives.  My mom, my dad, my step-dad and my aunt are there.  They are telling me to start taking my vitamins again.  I need to take garlic (the stinky kind) as, they claim, it will solve a lot of problems. 

In the dream, I'm confused and asked my grandfather to expound upon the situation.  He shows me a scene in which I die in a hospital due to a blood clot.  I am forty-four. 

There is a man by my bedside. 

Grandpa will not tell me who the man is because, he says, it will only make me run away from him when I meet him. 

Grandpa knows me. 

He says that the man brings me to the hospital for reasons he will not disclose. 

Now, I'm curious, so I ask.... 

"Grandpa, am I there because of chest pains?" 

"No. You're there because you're stupid and selfish."

"Oh." 

Apparently, I die in childbirth.  

I get horny.  I don't take birth control.  I pay the price and ruin some poor guy's life in the process. 

This is why, according to my grandfather, I must take two garlic pills and an aspirin every day. 

At this point in my dream, I start laughing. 

"So, Grandpa...are you saying that I must take tons and tons of garlic to make me smell so bad that no man will ever touch me?  That ought to work!"

"Some one's being silly."  Grandpa always used to say that to me.....all the time.

I miss him.   

At this point, another aunt walks into the room.  She is a living aunt. 

I look at her and ask, 'What are you doing here?" 

"Well..." she replies "I had a waxing job go bad and let my skin get infected.  I never got help and ended up dying from it." 

femi-nazi, bra-avoiding, hairy legged, hippie chicks who would never go to a salon for any reason. 

She called me today. 

She was going to get waxed but decided against it after I told her about the dream. 

Now, I'm freaking out. 



I'll truly end up freaked out if his windows are busted. 



I'm still avoiding those awful, smelly garlic tabs. 

Ick!!

I'd take my chances with the blood clot.   I mean, really....I'm not going to get knocked up at my age.  

If I'm that dumb, I've got worse things to worry about than thick blood.

I'd be worried about senility.

Love,

S.

Ginger Crash

I could live on ginger. 

I love ginger tea. 

I cut off slices of ginger to eat for lunch. 

I give myself dizzying blood sugar spikes with sugar coated ginger slices. 

Yum! 

So, when I saw Ginger flavoring at the liquor store I mentioned that I was interested in it. 

When the man in the basement is mean to me, he buys me cheap gifts.  Last night, my gift was Ginger flavoring to stir into vodka or to cook with. 

So....being in pain from trying to talk to him and worrying about what to do next, I found myself unable to sleep. 

I got myself a wine glass and filled it half full of vodka and topped it off with the ginger flavoring.  Starting about 10:00 p.m., I took a sip every half-hour I couldn't sleep.  Somewhere around 3:30 a.m., I polished off the glass and awoke at 5:30 with the headache of a lifetime.   

It's 9:00 p.m. and I'm still in pain. 

I'm in really bad pain. 

My head aches.  My stomach aches.  I can barely move.  I can barely see.

I think I have alcohol poisoning. 

After eight hours of trying to avoid any light, I found my way to the computer where I Googled the name on the bottle. 

It is ginger flavored vodka. 

I thought it would cut the strength of my usual drink of choice...nope, I effectively doubled it. 

I drink to chase away crazy nightmares. 

I'd rather suffer horrible dreams than feel like this. 

Love ya,

Stupid S.

Strange Love

Well....

The man in the basement wants me to stay and help with the kids. 

He says this is so because he loves me but refuses to speak to me about my holding a job or finishing my education. 

The conversation ended with him getting angry and sulking. 

It always does....

That's how we never talk. 

I'll want to resolve an issue and he'll feign anger. 

It's a passive aggressive thing. 

I need to leave. 

He wants me to stay to help with the kids. 

My life is passing me by. 

He swears he's not 500 pounds.  I don't know his weight as the scale broke when he hit 350. 

At 350, he had a 44" waist.  He has a 54" waist now. 

I need to get the skills necessary to support the household on my own. 

If I don't work....the kids won't get what they need. 

He's not taking care of his health. 

I'm terrified he's going to die. 

I've got to step up. 

If I can't do it here then I've got to leave. 

I hurt....very badly. 

Today, I told him that I can't do another year of celibacy. 

I told him that I'm having bad thoughts. 

He told me not to let the kids see. 

There is nothing for them to see. 

He's assuming that I'm getting my needs met here with someone else.  What the holy heck is he thinking?   

There is no one.  I'm hiding from my crush just so that I can continue to say that I'm a good person. 

I am thinking of buying a trailer and moving it from camping site to camping site just to get the hell out of here and still be available to help him with the kids.  Beyond that, I don't have a clue what to do.

The lawyers want me to take the house. 

I don't want bad karma. 


Besides, I could never be with anyone else in this house. 

I've got to move. 


What to do.....what to do...

The question of the day for me is how in the hell did I get here? 

Let's see...

Mother-in-law problems. 

If mommy doesn't like you, the marriage dies. 

It's been dead since '99. 

I'm wearing out my welcome. 

My Republican buddies convinced me to stay and keep my promise. 

I did. 

Why can't he keep his promises to me? 

It'll be another long night in tears...

I want to move. 

This place is so crazy. 

I'm going crazy. 

Help me. 

I'll pray to my Deity at midnight tonight.

I can't be expected to continue living like this.  I can't help anyone if my life is in such shambles. 


Love ya,

S.

Subliminal Stupid

Say....

You're sitting at the bar and the guy who smells like he hasn't seen a shower in weeks is grabbing at your crotch. 

Why is he pitching a tent? 

Oh..crap...

He doesn't understand the word "NO!" and he is taking the phrase "F-CK YOU" a little too literally. 

What to do....

What to do....

Hmmmmm....


You didn't bring a date, did ya? 

Oh my....

And you're not a hypnotist and can't make him think he has to pee....

And you don't have the nerve to passionately kiss a girl and say you're a lesbian. 

You don't want to slap him because you'll end up getting bailed out. 

How are you going to get out of this one? 

How did you get into it in the first place?

Did you check your shoes? 

Unlike the shoes Dorothy wore, when you click your feet together you're flashing the word "SEX" to all the perverts in the room to see. 

That's why they can't stop thinking about sex...

with you...

You should have worn the red glittery pumps. 

Here is the deal. 
Subliminal garbage works. 

I play with visual subliminals all the time. 

All the freakin' time...

It's so easy to put words into the backgrounds of artwork.  You know it works when men can't walk after looking at your stuff. 

Heck, my marriage has been one twenty year seduction.  The past four years, though, have been unintentional. 

If you want it to last....that's what you do....you seduce...you change it up....you make him want to play.   If you want it to die, you best learn to act like a quiet old lady whose vagina has fallen out.  I'm having trouble with the latter. 

The problem is that I haven't figured out how to change all my old habits. 

I still catch myself.....don't wear vanilla lotion.  Don't grin.  Don't sing Cole Porter songs in his presence.  Don't forget the padded bras.  Always were a shirt under your low cut blouses.

One of these days I'll be too old and saggy to give the guy in the basement watery eyes. 

About the shoes....

if you want a guy to dig in

there are better ways to get his attention. 

Let me help you...

Cinnamon....

Vanilla....

Nutmeg...

Or better yet, make yourself feel like a seductive goddess (don't make me tell you how to do that).

Men can smell arousal and the available ones clamor for it.   

Make sure you play that game with guys who are your age and have the same hobbies, otherwise you'll be chasing away babies.  Younger men are more attuned to it for some reason. 

If you smell like Christmas, they can't get enough...

You'll remind them of

warm memories, happy days, cold nights that need snuggling...

It works like a charm.

I'm allergic to cinnamon, so it has become my bargain botox.  One swipe of that crap and my wrinkles blow themselves inside out.  Rub a green grape on the wrinkle, go to sleep and I look ten years younger the next day. 

When I talk to the man in the basement, I get one angry wrinkle and three worried wrinkles (six after he aspixiated his chicken and left it gasping for blood flow....that poor, poor, man).  The next day I looked calm and relaxed as I begged him to see a urologist.

Using the cinnamon, I can end up with guy buddies if I don't rinse my face well.   The last time I went to a mall, someone asked me if I wanted a Cinnamon roll. 

I wonder where he got that idea.

And...sadly...I had to say NO lest he call an ambulance!


Love,

S.

And....Cole Porter Karaoke and a slinky red dress with a plunging neckline and 5" red strappy heels can work to get men, too...

but....only if you can sing...and use the microphone as a mini stripper pole at the same time.

I like Karaoke.  I get lots and lots of food thrown at me that way....

it saves on groceries. 

Hey...don't laugh...I never had to use food stamps.  There are other ways. 

Toy Karma

The toy....

I think it was for me. 

It was my favorite color....

Lime Green. 

Yep....

Why is lime green my favorite color? 

Well....

that's due to stupid, youthful, dumb hypnosis and an insecure guy who thought I'd get bored of him. 

When I see the color, I scream. 

It came in handy when he wanted to thrill me without the ability to touch me. 

It worked until he got caught lying about money and refused to talk to me about working.

Well...it still works.  He doesn't know that.   The entire house is painted with designs of that color. 

Nothing happens here....nothing...nada....zip...zilch...

A man I've known since I was a kid caught me moaning at the doorway of a sandwich shop.  He hustled me outside and offered me a cigarette.  He always knew how to help me see the funny side of life.  

Another hypnotist offered to cure me of it....I didn't let him.  He did help me overcome what happens when I walk barefoot....although there is still some grinning about that on Skype.

It was far worse that the green thing...

They are going to drag me to the beach during the next convention....just watch. 

I'll never tell.  He promised to tell the world if I'm ever dumb enough to run for office again as to put a chill on any political aspirations I may develop in the future. 

It's good... it has to do with unintentionally anchoring something great doing something really, really, really fun.  When my feet were touched, I felt that again. 

It doesn't happen now.

On Sunday, the man in the basement used his Paypal account to pay $100 or so for the candles and oils for a religious ritual.  My credit was smashed during his latest game, so I had to use his account to pay. 

He said that since we were still married and because he would benefit from what I was doing, he should pay for it but I disagreed and I gave him cash I earned to buy something for himself.   It would be untraceable, so he could buy anything. 

The agreement was that he had to buy something for him and no one else.  If he starts attending to his own needs, maybe....just maybe....he'll start taking care of himself. 

Well...

there is a lime green pump in the basement. 

I don't want to say what I saw....

when I was somewhere that I should not have been. 

I'm terrified by what I saw....

It can't be healthy....

I think it lost its blood flow. 

I briefly saw something underneath his belly. 

It was ghostly white...almost neon.  The room was dark, yet I could see this white ball glowing in the darkness where his stuff could be. 

I asked him if he was wearing a rain jacket or other prop....he said he wasn't. 

Then I felt scared. 


I shrieked at him and, embarrassed, asked him to check on his friend. 

Oh, no....

I'm worried he's going to have nerve damage....

serves him right for not paying the bills and lying to me about it. 

Well, no it doesn't. 

Nerve damage means he's not going to find my replacement and that I'll be stuck here forever. 

So...

yes...

I am praying for his penis. 

Maybe I need to set up an altar to Priapus. 

I don't know...


He's laughing at me. 

Forgive me..... 

It's my fault for taking him with me when looking for jade marbles. 

I blame myself. 

I am probably going to stay here due to the guilt, huh? 

If he can't plow, who is going to do his dishes or wash his clothes? 

I need therapy. 

This is going beyond codependent. 


Today....

I left the house to go to the thrift shop.  I want a vintage white lace dress. 

There was a guy that resembled another ex making eyes at me.  He'd look at me, drop his head and stare at his shoes before looking back up.   He'd follow me but always kept a safe distance two isles away, his tall head bobbing up and down to keep tabs on me. 

He was too young for me but still I let him play. 

I perused the store, looking at the china, a Yamaha saxophone with a super nice case, and the one thing that made me laugh so hard that I had to leave the store...

Do you want to know what I saw? 

I saw a box of medical pumps and another box of  huge syringes.  My thought was why buy a pump or a syringe....all one has to do is find a woman willing to play the part of a vacuum and viola...it's all pumped up! 

I was grinning like a bad redhead. 

What a nightmare. 

The guy followed me to the supermarket but I couldn't contain myself. 

I had to go home. 

Life is weird.

Love,

S.

Lonely Tonight

I'm now a size ten and, luckily, managed to keep my 36Ds without having them hang down too my toes. 

I swore off blue jeans and baggy tops.  I've decided to stop dressing like a man and start dressing like a female.

I dug into my silk dress collection and fancy shoes. 

Now, the man in the basement is in love. 

At least he says he is...for now.  I don't know. 

He follows me around in public.  He grabs at me.  He's tried to kiss me. 

It feels weird. 

The last time he went to a bar with me, another guy tried to take me home and he didn't let up until the bartender called him a cab.  It was so awkward.  It's that freakin' obvious we don't belong together.  My ex laughs about that.  I avoid going out with him now. 

We go shopping for the kids and that is the extent of our together time. 

Now, he grabs me in public.  He's wearing a fake wedding ring. 

He bought a....a.....a....cheapy toy that....[thankfully] doesn't work from the fluffy bunny pervert shop.  I....uh...think it was meant for me. 

H..E..L..P!! 
He's a good guy....but....he doesn't understand me. 

I can't sit home and look pretty. 

I've got to do something. 

I can't do this anymore. 

I'm sad...

I've spent the past few weeks in tears. 

I don't know what to do. 

I'm avoiding sleep. 

The dreams are getting filthy and I'm feeling guilty. 

He's not the man in my dreams.

I think I know who the man in my dreams is. 

All day long I've been beating myself up for it. 

Why? 

Why do I love my childhood friend so much? 

What does he offer that I'm not getting here? 

It's not lustful.  We didn't have that kind of relationship. 

We were close. 

We weren't filthy or anything. 

We were close without being too dirty. 

Then it hit me....

I miss his friendship. 

I miss our unconditional love. 

I miss the beauty in puppy love, the devotion, the loving for the sake of loving, the listening for the sake of listening and the being together just because...

it felt comfortable. 

Maybe if I realize why I still love him....

I can figure out how to get that here so that I don't look at him with longing eyes the next time we meet.

We'll see. 

For what it is worth, I think Tom has become my crutch that keeps me honest. 

I've been hiding at home since Mike broke my heart in February.  For years, we've been talking about divorce.  He'd let me leave after he found a job.  Then he wanted me to stay until after he settled a lawsuit with the city.  Then I needed to stay until he made a living wage.  Then I had to stay until after my political run was done for good.

I promised to stay to help with the kids while he hid the money and ruined my credit without telling me.  It was a couple of bankers that clued me in to what was going on. 

I was just about to sign a lease on a new office when....the money was gone. 

If only I had left in '08 when the lies started to get bad...if only I wasn't an idiot.   I should've left in '07 when he started calling me his ex. 

It's too late for that now. 

I can't leave now. 

How will I get an apartment? 

How will I rent another office. 


I'm going to have to wait this one out.

I'm in pain.  My friends see it and two of them are pressing me to spend more time with them. 

One is a high school friend I refused to date back in the day. 

Another is a politically active pagan that I feel a kinship with. 

They have let me know they are interested.  My excuse for staying away is that I have feelings for someone else.  I never clue them into the fact that this someone else is a man who hasn't kissed me for twenty-five years, lives across the country, and any feelings he has for me are figments of my imagination. 

Still, the man in my dreams has become my excuse for not destroying my conscience. 

Perhaps, I should be thankful for the creepy dreams.  So long as he's not hanging around and knows nothing of them....what harm can they do?

They are keeping me honest. 

I am lonely. 

Sleeping alone is killing me. 

Celibacy is killing me. 

I never touched a drop of alcohol before 2008. 

I should stop drinking. 

Alcohol does help me sleep. 

It also makes me wrinkle. 

I'll try to fall asleep sometime this morning.  If the dreams are fun, I'll post as I have nothing better to do right now. 

Without a job...without a hobby....without knowing what to do next...I'm lost. 

I wish I could just see what the heck I need to do to make this better. 

I'm dying here. 
May you have a friend tonight. 

Love,

S. 
 

The Dreaming Stone

I spoke to a witch and was gifted with a beautiful natural ruby encased in jasper. 

It resides in my pillow. 

It is supposed to help amplify my dreams, so that I understand what in the world I am seeing. 

Jasper and ruby are stones commonly used in the realm of love, so that's what I'll use it for. 
I'm supposed to ask it questions and it will show me in my dreams what will happen. 

So...my question was this.  Since the stones are routinely used in the realm of love, I asked......
Who am I supposed to be with?
The first night....nothing happened. 

The second night....I had bad girl dreams with a faceless guy. 

This morning....

Oh, this morning...

I had a crazy hypnopompic hallucination. 

I'm sitting on a rock unable to speak. 

I feel amazing. 

I see someone's head bobbing about. 

Oh, NO....please don't let this be my gyno. 

I don't know who it is.  I couldn't see the face. 

I see a neatly cut head of hair with three hairs moving in rhythym.  

I cannot move or speak but my thoughts are clearly...

Who in the holy heck is this? 

Why in the heck did I allow him to do this? 

Why am I allowing him to do this in public?

I sure hope no one is seeing this. 

Realizing what was going on, I feel myself pull away from the guy. 

I can see his eyes look at me for permission to stop.  I can barely see them behind the glare of his glasses.

In my vision, I can't speak but I'm thinking
Darn right...you'd better stop before we are having scary gaurds in jail doing probing us  until we find some sucker to bail us out.   

He gently folds my pants back into place and snaps a snap before skipping off in the green grass. 

I'm still unable to move or speak. 

He shouts from the distance "You coming?"

I'm thinking to myself...'still'...but can't say a word. 

I see this figure walking backwards in the distance, holding up water bottles.  "If the next rock we see is purple, I'll let you have a drink!" 

Darn it...

I'm beginning to like this game! 

I awoke with the sense to avoid hiking with brown haired men for the time being. 
And...

I need to carry purple rocks in my backpack. 

Love,

S. 

Yeah..yeah..I asked the wrong question.  It should be 'what the heck do I need to know'....still if I get my love life on track, everything else will fall into place. 

I hope..

And, yeah, yeah....Most men I know have brown hair.  Most men I know wear glasses, especially now since we've all entered the age of bifocals. 

The dreams aren't helping give me any answers but they sure are fun.