I wonder what music you would have made had you not left the world too soon?
When I heard the news of your passing, I thought you were a selfish asshole.
Ever since you haunted my dreams, I don't feel that way anymore.
You didn't kill yourself.
September 6, 2022
As I was waking I heard, "I didn't kill myself."
I dreamed about being back in highschool. I think I recall having attended a few classes at the beginning. It feels like I have missed some school and now have forgotten my locker number and the combination to the lock. I considered that I would have to go to the office to get the information again.
It feels like I have some evening thing to attend at the school but I had taken a nap and overslept. I woke at 5:15pm and eventually remembered that it started at 5pm and I needed to already be there. I considered not going at all because, really, I didn't need to attend because I had already done it previously. It feels like I'm not there for me because at one point, I'm back at the school and I see River. It seems I have been waiting for him to talk to me. He is supposed to talk to me because I'm back in school to help him. I debated whether or not to say anything and then I finally opt to say something.
"Are you ever going to talk to me? If you don't talk to me, you are just going to die again like before. It's just going to happen again. I've been waiting for you to talk to me and you haven't. We're running out of time because you are about to die. It may already be too late." I said to him.
He looked at me and said, "Yes, I was planning to talk to you soon." And then I see him start to do a dance and I see words like on a TikTok video above him with an arrow that point to his shoes that said, "This is new". The dance turns into a tap dance of sorts and I noticed his shoes had a little bit higher heels.
I walked away from him thinking that it might already be too late and I didn't need to go back to school. I didn't plan to go back. I had done my best to help, but I wasn't sure it was going to turn out as I had hoped.
"It's not about the destination but the journey," they say.
But is it really?
When the journey is so fucked up that parts of you that you love have fled, is the journey really so worthwhile? Right now, it doesn't feel like it.
If we create our own reality and my reality still isn't anywhere near what I would like for it to be, is it just because I suck ass at creating my own reality?
I don't know.
Eleven years on the "spiritual journey" and I'm still basically in the same life I wanted to free myself from. I see no ending in sight or dramatic changes on the horizon.
I feel like a slave and I wonder if I will ever be free.
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| Photo by Norman Parkinson |
Dream Journal Entry: November 6, 2023
Last night I dreamed about being in a place where the person there helped people find new housing that would be a good fit for them. My partner and I seem to be staying there until we find housing. We were sleeping and, when I woke, I saw the guy who was going to find us housing. There are other people here looking for housing, as well. The guy in charge of this seems pretty young, so I was surprised when a young boy comes out who appears to be his son. The placement coordinator is helping his son get ready for school. The boy is holding some sort of figurine type thing that is a Christmas scene. I commented on it and complemented it. I said that I liked it and especially liked the purple Christmas tree. That's when I started looking around and noticed a pervading purple theme. Purple could be seen in the clothes of some characters and various items. That's when I smiled and said, "I noticed the purple theme in this movie. I really like it." I had a realization that I was calling the dream I was in a "movie". I understood it was a dream but called it a movie.
The man and I discussed some of the housing he had available and talked about a place that some people didn't want to live in because of barking dogs, etc. I told him that wouldn't bother me because I had my own dogs. I told him that I didn't like my current landlord and looked forward to gaining more favorable housing.
The placement coordinator talked about when he first arrived in Oregon and what it was like finding housing. Apparently he hadn't been there very long, like maybe a couple of years or so. He said he really liked it in Oregon, but finding the right housing makes the experience better.
An older boy who is an older son shows up. Something if being said about him and his behavior sometimes. I remarked that he reminded me of the eldest boy in my nanny family. I think he might have been a young teen and I noticed his hair was a light ginger color. I can't remember anything else.
Basically she was saying that they need to cut labor costs and the way I did things had too many steps and takes too much time. This came after she let me know that the eggs she made for our cheddar, bacon, egg turnovers were dry and were going to be hard to make turnovers with. I said it wasn't a problem because I would just add milk and rescoop the eggs. Apparently adding milk and making them easier to work with was going to increase the cost of them too much.
In those moments, I felt ready to quit and find other employment. It felt like she wanted me to erase who I am and be exactly like her, like who I inherently am and what works for me isn't good enough.
I thought to myself, "She's a hummingbird and I'm a tortoise. She expects me to be exactly like her and I'm just not! She wants me to fly but I don't have wings because I'm a tortoise! I'm slow and that's just who I am."
My mind was flooded with memories of childhood and all of the times I tried so hard to be like everyone else, but failed. I was reminded of how much sadness and how many tears it brought when I wasn't as fast as everyone else. I remembered all of the end-of-the-school-year relay races I never won where I was practically last every time; all of the tests I was last finishing... sometimes I didn't have time to even finish; all of the times I was "too slow" in doing certain tasks at jobs. So many tears have been shed over being slow. So much hate was directed at myself for being slower than everyone else. Being slow made me feel "not good enough" throughout my life.
Being triggered and stewing over this incident with my employer caused me to identify the tortoise part of me I need to accept, appreciate, and love.
Processing it all brought tears to my eyes as though I was still that wounded child feeling not good enough. In many ways, I AM still that child because that child still lives within me and I owe it to her to love her completely and unconditionally exactly as she is and tell her that her value isn't dependent on how fast or slow she is.
Maybe not everyone will understand or value what she brings to the table, but I need to love and appreciate the tortoise part of us unconditionally. If I can't accept and value the tortoise aspect of us, I can't expect anyone else to.
5 is number of change. Repeating numbers amplify.
