Stupid, Wonderful LIFE

No matter how drunk I have ever been, no matter how many times I’ve thrown up in that state, I never missed the toilet with my urine. Why is that?

I like the idea that I am actually a free-agent at work. Since the new reality in the USA is for low-to-mid level retail workers such as myself, part time work is the new reality , no matter how great you may be, I enjoy pretending that my 3-4 days off per week are my choice.

I enjoy perusing Craigslist for jobs that I am not qualified for. My overactive imagination allows me to picture myself doing the job, then the entire length of the career, and the interesting conclusion, without even ever applying!

I usually feel as though I don’t have any skills that are really vital or appreciated in society. This is the result of low confidence combined with feeling mostly ignored at large. According to “The Secret”, I am attracting being ignored, and any lack of talent and skill is simply a result of poor thinking. The law of the universe…I have been focusing on what I want- recognition and fat stacks. I am still focusing. Somebody help me out.

I feel young and old at the same time. I just turned 45. My sex drive is voracious, but my gray hairs are multiplying. Isn’t that strange? I guess my body is trying to maximize my few fertile remaining years to best production. But science tells me that my eggs are few and puny at this point. Plus, my tubes have been tied since age 26. So, the body isn’t all knowing after all.

I still have dreams, but sometimes I feel a large part of me is still 19, waiting for my life to begin, and not knowing where to start. I’ve never really had a HUGE dream that I clung to, that carried me all throughout my life. As things arose, I embraced them. Things I have always loved- dreaming, music, and feeling. Reading was my salvation as a child. I spent so much time in fiction, I guess I never came down to Earth much. When I finally did, I feel like everything had passed me by.

I was lost until age 19. Like most, I didn’t know I was lost until my life hit rock bottom. I asked a God I didn’t know to save my soul. Since then, I am still a sinner, still a crazy fool. Thank God for grace and forgiveness. I need it every day.

A look inside my head: If you didn’t know me, and if you didn’t think of me as the low carb blogger…

Mold me, shape me. I take on my environment and the people around me. I learned early to adapt to survive. It doesn’t mean I am not real. It just means that I only show you what I think you will approve of if I care about and respect you. If I don’t respect you, I feel free to show you all of what I am. For better or worse.

I should have been an actress. I used to think that becoming something I was not would be impossible. Now I realize that is how I operate my entire life.

I dream of things that cannot be as though they already are. I wonder if I am insane. I love my body and hate it , too. I embrace the light but play too much in the dark junk yard of my mind.

I am standing in a junk yard at night. You have a flashlight, but I don’t really need it. I don’t notice details that you do, and you don’t notice the poignant details that I do. You look for parts, I look for the stories behind the deployed air bag, the angle of the rear-view mirror and the tiny shards of stained glass that splatter the front seat. I see people, feel the resignation, feel the pain.

I was ten. I found a mattress in the dumpster. It was stained with many shades of blood and plasma. I felt the anguish, the sick, deep, dark hopelessness. I felt Hell and heaven and all the weight of the entire world upon my being. It soaked into my soul-my deepest perceptive senses were suddenly very acquainted with grief. In the instant that I stared, I absorbed a feeling that was not mine, but became mine. I owned this, but knew it not. Later, I was told that the mattress belonged to our upstairs neighbor. She shot herself in that bed.

I don’t know. What is it? I saw a photograph in the Time magazine when I was sixteen that showed the ovens where Jews were cooked. I saw the death camps. I didn’t actually SEE the photos as though they were a piece of history. My analytic mind was silenced. All I did was soak it in. I was revolted and horrified. Tears sprung to my eyes. I cannot tell you now that this was not just compassion and shock. But I KNOW it was much different than that. I was there. I FELT it. I can’t live in those places very long. I have to leave. I spend so much time trying to make a mark on the world, but I can never undo the mark it has left on me. I remember the day I learned about the potential of the nuclear bomb, the JFK assassination, and the 9-11 disaster. All I could do was hide in music, cry, and pray. I can tell you that I am not strong enough for the evil of this world. I can only call on Jesus. I can’t do it alone. The evil finger that occasionally reaches out to freeze and terrorize my heart can only be stopped by Him.

Life. The best things- love, selfless sacrifice, innocence of mind- the purity of music…the beauty of a smile. These things I cling to, but I never have felt, and never will feel, as though I fit into this world. I am a stranger here. As much as I am a part of this ancient Earth, and my body will return to it, I don’t really belong here. I have no real friends. I have family. I have people who love me. But, I never seem to get too close to many.

I inhaled the beautiful aroma I doused myself in. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, and perfume. I spent time carefully concealing dark spots on my face, red nose and chin, dark circles under my eyes. I spent more time scrunching my curls,plucking the grays, applying cellulite reduction cream, but the truth is never far from my mind, None of this matters. Not at all. This is just a shell. But this shell is perfectly designed to have me survive this planet. I have to keep it healthy. I fart. This ruins it all and makes reality even more important. I am really stinky inside. Gross.

On to more important things. The mind. What I think, I am . So I practice thinking beauty, health, love, and peace. These are among the most important things. I always believe that I am safe and secure. And so I am. Nothing threatens me.

Daily chores begin. I wash and fold. I sort and hang. I scrub and organize. But deep inside this productive feeling is a small child who doesn’t get any of it, the importance of it. That girl wants to spin, skip, and dance, and forget every ugly thing of this world. Then I go to work. I treat every person as if they are the most important person in the world. Sometimes I don’t feel they really are. I do it anyway.

I fear that everyone’s love is false. I don’t believe in flattery. Nobody is my age. I am older or younger than everyone. Nobody knows my age. Nobody knows ME.

I love smooth river rocks. I love dry river beds, and roaring white water. I love deep pools of clean, clear water. I love eyes that are full of light. I love proficiency and speed. I love brown, and blue, and green. I love deep red, the sunny blue sky, and ice cream.

I love my children. No matter how old they become, they are my children.

I love all that is right, good, and awesome. I hate my restless spirit.

I will write the great American novel…eventually. I know that the people I love also love me. That is enough Most all the time. I still am just a drifter, a dreamer, a wanderer, and schemer. Yet, I never want more for you than a sweet lullaby, or less than to feel the beauty of the sunrise, the warmth of the sun on your skin , and that you know- deep in your soul- that all the sweetness and love you find in others is just reflecting off your own magnificent and large heart.

I get depressed. Easily. I am an addictive personality. Pain makes me apologize. I love cats. I rely too much on feeling. I am an empath. I can be apathetic, but I hate living that way.

I will write more fiction and poetry soon. Hope to see you there.


Dream States

Three separate and distinctly different jets flew by overhead this morning at precisely two a.m. I am not sure if that is the noise that originally woke me up, or if it was the fairies playing tiny harps. I live an hour north of Portland, and wonder who needs to travel so early in the day, anyway?

It was not a dream. I do sometimes dream in music and sound, even composing my own tunes and lyrics, none of which I can remember when waking for long enough to write down. Some of them have had chart-topper potential, mind you.

This morning was different. I was clearly awake. I looked at the clock. During the dying rumble and schwoop of the last jet to go by, I began to hear this tiny, pleasant sound. It was as if leaves blowing in the wind were strumming the top of the strings on my guitar, up by the tuner knobs. Or, as I stated, fairies were playing tiny harps.

I reasoned that my husband’s i-phone alarm was going off, set to harps, on low volume. No. He doesn’t use the harp alarm anyway. And if he did, he surely wouldn’t have it going off at 2 a.m. No lights from his side of the bed were lit, either. So, what then? I was too sleepy to get up and investigate further, but it stirred my imagination.

I like to believe there is another world that remains mostly unseen, but is no less real than the one we cling to. I fancied that an angel was coming to say “Hi”. I wondered if my grandmother was tripping through the cosmos, or maybe my dad, and just wanted to be a presence in my room, at that moment. I worried briefly that my mom just passed on. She is quite ill of health, having suffered with COPD for many years. Wait- I haven’t called her today! What’s wrong with me?!

Ultimately, I didn’t truly believe any of my theories to the degree to act upon them- yet. But it’s been on my mind all day. Some things that others see as coincidence, I take a different approach to.

Yesterday morning, I was singing “This Little Light of Mine” to cheer myself up, as I realized I’ve been more grumpy and low-energy lately, and for much longer than I like. When I got to work, I was working in the solar lighting department, changing shelf price tags. The store is lit with fluorescent lighting, set to dim when the store is not open. Even at full bright, that light is not  enough to turn on  any of our solar globes. Then I just noticed that the one closest to me was softly but consistently lit. I chuckled out loud with a bit of delight. I mean, it cheered me up!

The cheer was short-lived, sadly. Too much work to do, too little time. I had to focus on the task at hand. But do you ever wonder about the small, seemingly insignificant , often symbolic occurrences that would mean very little to anyone but ourselves?

I’ve heard stories all my life about signs like this. The yellow rose that blooms mid-winter just under a  recently deceased loved-one’s window – when everyone thought the rose bush had died?

The bouquet of balloons that float by seemingly out of nowhere just when you were missing your   child the most- and balloons were his favorite thing?

Do the departed reach out with quiet messages to let us know there is life after life? Does God send messages our way, in hope that our inner spirit will see and understand, even as our eyes and mind doubt or miss them altogether?

Many people would say that they have had at least one unexplained ‘message’ like this, some people claim to have  had many more bizarre and stronger signals than these come through. But from where, exactly? And, as with most matters like this, is it only our faith that enables us to receive these messages, or can it all be summed up by mere coincidence and imagination?

I am not sure, but I will tell you that I enjoyed a sense of magic, and awe when I heard the music this morning.

Dreams Fuel Our Imaginations, and Power Our Future


Do our subconscious minds give us messages that are always inside us- that can only be released through a dream?

I can always tell when I really needed the sleep the night before. I wake up with memories of extensive dreaming, often intense and easily remembered. Interestingly enough, it is on those mornings that I feel the most rested. According to DavidNG, author over at Squidoo (, it is during this REM sleep stage that we get the most restorative sleep. What is the dream connection? Well, it is during this phase of sleep, which occurs (ideally) many times per night or sleep cycle, that our brains do a bit of filing and storing of everything we experience during our waking hours, often putting them into interesting little movies for us to enjoy the memories of later.

Our circadian clocks are renewed and our bodies are most fully energized, again- according to David NG, during the vital time of REM sleep. All other phases of sleep are important, also- of course. Beyond the brain’s internal sorting system, however, how do dreams help us in our daily lives? How do things we dream influence us in our daily lives?  How we act out what we may learn in a dream can only be guessed at.

Have you ever had a dream that caused a change in your actions or activities later on? My dreams often give me inspiration when I am feeling in a rut-  and my zest for life is waning. How about you?

According to transcripts I found from a NOVA transcript,  too much REM sleep lead to depressive tendencies, but it is vital in the right amounts;  helping us to improve upon real memories- by almost rewiring the memory of an actual event into something the brain can work with later to solve problems. See for more .

Clearly, dream states are more than just gibberish or burps of the mind at night.

Dreams that Come True:

“Conscious mind out of the way, you get a chance to have a glimpse at the events of your life that would be considered as your future in your waking life…” – Dr. Eric Amidi.(

It could be argued that time- our perception of it- is not entirely – accurate, for lack of a better word. Perhaps, it is within the capacity of the human mind, in it’s most relaxed, open states, to perceive and to see ‘upcoming’ events because it is not limited to the normal constructs of time as we know it. Another theory is that we have a God who watches out for us and warns us of things to come. Either way, there is much to be discussed about dreams that come true. They have happened to me, and probably to you, to, at some point.

Dream Scapes- a new Blog Dedicated to the Pursuit of Deciphering and Understanding Dreams

I have long been fascinated by dreams. The idea that they might mean something, and affect our lives- not simply reflect our lives, is not a new concept. It is a concept, however, that I feel should be delved into more deeply.

From Freud to Jeanne Dixon, people have been telling us that our dreams mean something. You can take a completely scientific approach to decoding messages in dreams, or you can lean toward the more prophetic, or supernatural theories. Finally, you might chalk them all up to random brain activity. Perhaps the brain gets bored while we sleep, and needs to process the happenings of the day as it sees fit.

I believe there are many types of dreams. There are the crazy dreams. You dream you are flying over Manhattan like Superman, and your boss has your mom’s face, and a three-eyed dog yells at you in the elevator. When you wake from this type of dream, you usually feel amused, or confused. You might tell someone, “Wow, I had the weirdest dream last night!” I am not sure that this type of dream can always be interpreted. I think of these as mental graffiti, or the brain might be starved for more creative expression.

Then there’s the dream that seems to be trying to tell you something that you need to do, or figure out, in the waking world. An anonymous source confided in me that she dreamed that older men in her life, which had been pursuing her romantically, were trying to molest or rape her , and as she dashes into a random house to be safe, her dad is at the top of the stairs. She was able to put together a theory that others already had- but that she could not accept- that authority and ‘daddy issues’ truly were at the root of her real-life struggles with feeling attracted to inappropriately older men. I think she was able to see the truth that she already knew. The dream made the truth easier to accept than hearing it from someone else.  After all, it came from her own mind.

It could be argued that the dreams come from and  speak to our subconscious, the place where our true nature and motivation lies. Hypnotists tap into the subconscious to help people make positive changes in their lives (or dance like chickens while ‘smelling’ popcorn). So, the question I would like to answer begins with an attempt to understand the importance of the subconscious and dreams. Lucid dreaming, the concept of controlling the direction of our dreams, is another topic we will delve into. Finally, what about all the dreams we have that we don’t remember? Are those also  affecting us in our daily lives? I can recall waking up feeling quite disturbed on many occasions, with a dream fleeting from me faster than I could get out of the bed. All the same, I knew I’d had some sort of nightmare or disturbing dream. You shake it off, and go on with your day, but how much do these dreams affect us?

My favorite dream: The prophetic dream. A relative of my ex-husband’s died. His grandmother. We had never met. I dreamed that I walked into a house from a sliding glass door, that the bedroom was in the back, and on my right, against the wall, was the bed. Someone elderly with pure white hair peeked from under the covers and told me that she was alright, and that everything was going to be OK. I got the impression so strongly that it was my grandma, but I didn’t recognize the lady in my dream. I just figured it was a weird dream. Often, the main point of a dream will be accurate to reality, but the details get skewed. That’s normal for me.

I was so worried, though, that I called my mom in Florida to check on my grandma. She was fine. I told my then-boyfriend, now ex-husband, all about the dream. He got very interested when I described the house, and the white-haired lady. His eyes grew big. Turns out his grandparent lived on the lake, with a glass-sliding door as the main entrance. The bedroom was in the back, the bed up against the back wall, and her hair was pure snow-white. His mom called an hour later to tell him that his grandma had just passed on. I never met her, had never seen her picture, and I hadn’t learned much about her yet from my boyfriend at the time. So, I believe there is a supernatural possibility to dreams. Being in a completely relaxed, unguarded state may be what we need to hear communications we would normally not be able to.

Nightmares and Warning Dreams: Not anyone’s favorite. These tap into fears, causing a traumatic event to be replayed, over and over. Sometimes the details change, but the fear can be all-consuming.  Theories that I would like to prove or disprove include the idea that children have nightmares more often than adults because they do not have the ability yet to step outside of the dream, and get out of it. ( Lucid dreaming) and that the recurring nightmare is a clear signal that we still need healing from the past traumatic event if we want to get rid of the nightmares. Warning dreams are different , though. If you dream that there will be a terrorist bomb in a cafe in Europe you are planning to visit on vacation soon, maybe you should heed the warning and make other plans. Ditto for crumbling bridges and crashing airplanes. Sometimes it’s just fear, but sometimes it could truly be a warning we should not ignore.  I will bring stories of warning dreams that came true. I will let you be the judge of  the integrity of the tales.

I plan to do a lot of research for the Dream Scapes posts, and will do my best to properly APA cite it all. If you wish to share your dream stories, please do so. Let me know if I would have permission to quote you, or refer to your story. Thank you!