I M Perfect lady

Tag: dreams

  • Dream it differently.

    It seems like life can be broken down into two categories; those who are dream weavers about reality and those who walk right down the middle of reality.  

    I have lived both ways…and know that the dream weavers are not aware that they are not in reality or that their dream isn't real.  They have been sucked into the dream from the time they were very little and all their love and security lies within the dream…and reality is harsh and bitter, cold and uncomfortable, if leaves no room for dreams.

    Did you know that only those of us who have been abused or NOT allowed to live naturally and organically as a Spiritual Being on a human journey, build dreams. 

    Only those of us with a harsh reality build a dream above it.

    We live there NOT because we are dreamers, but because it hurts too much to live in reality.  The deeper the dream…the harsher reality.

    As a child it would have been too painful to know that my father hurt me and my mother didn't care.  I had to paint a better picture, and I did….and then I got so lost from reality, that I lived the picture instead.

    It isn't a Conscious thought, it is the natural survival mechanism…to go into your mind to escape reality.  

    I lived there for 46 years in a picture about reality and then one day a little girl spoke my truth and I heard it.  

    I heard that voice say what I recognized and it didn't match the picture I had in my mind, but it matched the feelings in my body.

    I was then catapulted out of the picture and was immediately immersed in a life that was full of strangeness and horror, but it felt completely right.

    There is no point in arguing with folks who are living their lives in the dream state, who find it too painful to step into reality…you literally can't reach them.  

    They don't want us to be part of the dream. And in fact we will awaken them to the dream they are living.  I believe their minds are quick to shut us down and toss us out, the quicker the better, for you are ruining their dreams.

    It was extremely painful and exhilarating to awaken from the dream I had created, and be doused with reality's icy cold awareness, but it clearly saved my soul.

    I believe that my picture shell was cracking prior to the big shatter; that I had begun to get disenfranchised by it all, I was no longer totally believing in the dream…yet not ready or totally comfortable about leaving the picture behind.  In fact, I had wondered how I would be able to do that which I longed for.

    I had started to doubt the church and wondered how to get out.

    I had started to resent my mother more and more.

    I had yearned to be free to just be me…a different me, a Lighter me, a me that wasn't so bogged down by others.  Yet I had no clue how to do it.  Where to begin???

    I had backed up from church and even being involved fully in family. Even if I arrived at the functions, I had begun to look at things differently.

    I was ripe for the change when the drama hit.  I was perfectly cured to popping out.  I had had it.  I was tired of the life I was living, it no longer inspired me…it instead felt completely draining.  It was hard to live as me.  I was done.  I just didn't know how to live diferently, what I wanted or even how or where to begin.

    And like the magic of the Universe and the stars all lined up.  I was ready to leave and the opportunity arose…when the truth knocked this time, I answered the door.

    It was no accident in my life, no tragedy, but a longed for escape…a doorway to the truth.

    What I didn't understand at the time, was that I was waking up in my life.

    I wasn't tired of living, of was tired of not living my truth.  My picture making energies were quickly drying up…I was exhausted.

    I wonder if depression really is losing the ability to keep a picture going?

    It seems totally and utterly implausible to believe that you can paint a pretty picture and fully and completely believe in it….but I did.

    However, once it begins to crack and fall apart, you will have to paint even harder to keep the picture going.  I literally lost all my power to create something out of nothing.  When my father's crimes came around once again…I didn't try to dream it differently.

     

  • Shattering Dream

    While commenting back and forth with Lynn C. Tolson, the Author of "Beyond the Tears", on facebook, it came to me why folks support the Coach and the Organization and not the abused boys…they don't want to lose that which they are a part of.

    Whether it is to be a fan of a winning football team and coach, or whether it be a family and father, no one wants to let go of that which they have looked up to, aspired towards, cheered on and been part of.   

    By looking at the abused child, you will see that your hero is a monster.

    It isn't the pain of the child, it IS the pain of the dream dying.

    Lynn asked on facebook, "Why is it so painful to support the abused children? Why, why, why (not expecting an answer). The topic of child sex abuse is so uncomfortable yet the victims live their entire lives in a world of hurt."

    It isn't the child's pain we fear, but our own pain as our family dies, our team isn't as grand as we thought, or that the icon coach is just a normal man, who didn't want to turn in a friend, or who didn't want the public to know that it is as vulnerable to abuse as any other organization.

    We fear our own losses so much that we will hold on to a false dream rather than feel it actually die.

    In walkng face first into my greatest fear, I was able to then see the abused child.  It seems we all have a choice in either holding up a dream or letting it die to save a child.

    What very few can do is let go of their own lives in order to save a life of a child, to spare them the shame, guilt and blame of 'wrecking' the dream.

    What hurt me the most, wasn't the rape of my father, nor even the image of him changing from dad to monster, but what hurt even more was being blamed for killing the family.  

    I wasn't rioting for his reputation…so it was seen as I was out to tear our family apart, when in fact all I was doing was standing by the abused children…the long list of girls who suffered under his hands.

    I wasn't able to stand in a picket line supporting those who knew and said nothing, and I was seen as a traitor to our 'family'.  

    It wasn't my pain that they couldn't bear feeling, but they didn't want to feel the pain of losing a family.

    We wonder why more folks are not lining up to give up the details of their abuse, it is to give evidence and facts that will tear apart their dream of family…

    It isn't that we don't support abuse, we don't want to support the tearing apart families, religions and organizations. But if abuse is within, your organization is decaying from the inside out, and eventually, there will be no good there to hold it up.

    Penn State has shown us it isn't the abuse that we can't bear to see, but the shattering dream.

     

     

  • The Principle Won, always.

    While reading in “Shattered Dreams” by Irene Spencer, I came upon a paragraph that struck a cord within me.
    She is describing the polygamy Principle, which is commonly known by Principle.
    “A teaching that was to have a grave impact on how I lived my life can be summed up quite simply as follows; People may fail the Principle, but the principle itself never fails.”
    This is how many folks look upon religion, as seeing how the people fail IT, and not that IT fails the people.
    She goes on to write, “My mother lived in a religious no-win situation. She was devoted to a tradition that defeated her.”
    Imagine being devoted to something that defeats you?
    What struck me as I pictured this girl watching her mother struggle with plural marriage, was in how she didn’t see her mother’s defeat, but wondered more about her own strength to endure…she never considered breaking the chain of polygamy.
    My estrangement with my mother happened because I was determined to break the chain of mothering as she mothered.  I believe each of us have either the strength to endure and continue on the chain or legacy….or the strength to break the chain.
    And there are many women who feel empowered by holding up doctrines and belief systems, while they are defeated by them.  What they see isn’t the lack of self, but rather the success of not allowing the belief to die.
    I had said that my mother’s greatest strength, was her blindness.  And now I understand that her blindness was of her self or what the cost had on her family to uphold the doctrine of the Forgiveness of Sins.  That is the Principle of the FALC.
    As Irene writes, “…when the children of the covenant lacked the courage to live polygamy for themselves, it was always the fault of the human weakness and sin, never a problem with the Principle.”
    My mother never could see any fault with the church and would not hear a word that would go against her Principle Belief.  We became invisible to her.  Her main focus was always to be loyal to what I feel was helping to defeat her.  
    Putting her Faith in the Principle (forgiveness of sins) was always a higher need than her own childrens or her own.  We came in second, always…and in doing so, it defeated our family from the git go.
    We were born into a system where we came second from day one…and there was no way to move ahead, if anything we fell lower on the totem pole as the years went by.
    It is very disheartening to see that in your mother’s eyes you stand behind the system that defeated her.  And in order to get along with her, you too have to be defeated.
    Defeated I left my relationship with her, for she couldn’t see how damaging she was to herself, to our family and to me.  
    Her beliefs destroyed everything…while holding high her faith in the Principle. The Principle won, always.
     

  • A dream for me.

    Some days are filled with contrasts that keep you from mulling anything, you go from event to situation to more incoming information, past, present and future…

    This ride at times seems to be moving at super fast speeds, going so quick it is hard to process one thing before the next hits. That was yesterday.

    I had a mission to talk to the Detective to help get a ball rolling, but he will not play catch with me.  I sit, holding my ball…while life seems to be passing so quickly.  Another week has gone by and he appears too busy to return my call.

    To him I may be more work or I am not as important as what he has going on…however he knows not what I know.  I feel myself bumping into a silent wall of rebuff.

    The information grows like a weed out of control and I am losing my faith or trust that even when alerted he will be unable to pull or eradicate this weed that is poisoning the innocent…it seems that the garden is getting overrun while no one is looking.

    I have to have faith that it is all perfectly perfect, that it is going at the pace it should, even if not my speed.

    While I can’t gain his attention, I seem to forever bump into people who I feel are feeding the weed.  It seems so exasperating, like a poor cosmic joke, to see them everywhere and the Detective is nowhere to be found.

    Oh and the normalcy is worn like a costume.

    Letting all that go, I attended a speech given by the Author of the book, The Glass Castle, Jeanette Walls.  She lived her first 17 years in abject poverty, and went on to become a journalist living on Park Avenue in New York City, while her parents remained homeless.

    She spoke to the freshman class at Michigan Tech, and a few of us from off the street, eager to hear her speak.

    Her rough life taught her many lessons you can’t learn on easy street, and in writing it forced her to be with the reality of her life.  She learned about her self and respected herself more for telling her truth, than when she was hiding it from people around her.

    What I found that was different between us, is that as a child she could not hide her ‘shameful’ life situation.  In her town everyone knew they were the poorest family, her clothes and body odor too obvious to hide, and so she wore her label everywhere and was treated appallingly in high school.

    Her very dysfunctional poor lifestyle was hard to not see. 

    And in my case, my outward appearance wasn’t too bad, poor but we did have running water and flushing toilets, although no shower until I was in middle school…just a sauna lit twice a week.  And there was a dirt-poor girl who lived less than a mile from us, who was poorer.  A two room shack more or less…

    Anyway, Jeanette could not hide what shamed her, and I didn’t know the shame that followed me where every I went, I was ‘HIS daughter’ A story was spoken when I left the room or before I arrived, unbeknownst to me.

    I have often wondered what my childhood would have been like had I known that my father was a pedophile, how would I have walked into places and out of them, knowing who I truly was?

    I know that I was always treated like the daughter of a pedophile, yet I was spared because I didn’t know.  I felt I was just a girl from a poor large apostolic family.  I didn’t know that underneath me was incest, abuse…

    I walked with confidence and not with mortifying shame.

    The mortifying shame came when I was 46.  And then I knew what the people of the church knew and yet not one approached me even then.  But, then they started to overtly treat me like a pariah.

    It seemed odd to me that once my truth was out they then began to treat me differently.  It still puzzles me…we all know the truth and now they keep me at arms length, they turned down isles to escape me…

    The only thing changed is I openly walked my truth…and they now did not know what to do or how to talk to me.

    Isn’t it interesting that it was easier to be with me when I was not walking my truth, than it was for them when I was?

    Just yesterday it came to me that it is much easier to be with people who are walking step by step with their truth, than to be with folks who want to tuck a huge part of their lives under a rug.  I can’t be with a half person.

    So, Jeanette and I are the same, we both had rough childhoods, the difference is she knew it and I did not.

    Her father carried a dream of one day building them a glass castle, and she believed in his dream.

    My father never had a dream for me.

     

     

  • Blanket of White Light

    I just awoke from a dream in which I was conversing with my mother, part of the dream she was there, the other she was on the phone, it vacillated back and forth.

    There was a lot of over talking where our loud voices drowned out the other; it portrayed pretty accurately how my feelings would react to her words and sentiments.

    What I feel the most is being washed over by her needs, like a heavy pull into her very twisted life, or being sucked into a vortex, while what I need the most was the serene peace away from her.

    Yesterday I heard about twenty minutes of an interview that Oprah had with a child suffering from being too sensitive to negative energies, and how he stated that he has to steer clear of negative people or their energies will invade his life and overtake his calm peace.

    He profoundly spoke of using White Light to surround himself and how this keeps the negative energies away.

    (I just went to http://www.oprah.com and watched him talking to Oprah about negative energies and White Light…it is at towards the ending of the write up and you can actually watch him.)

    His simple description of wrapping himself in White Light prevents him from being spun out of control by negative people and things, equals my backing up from many in my family. Once you know where the drains are we need to steer clear.

    What he also stated is that negative energies feed off of the calm energies…. When you put this into practical practice, you can see how pedophiles feed off little girls, and it changes them once the negative energies are allowed in, it alters their balance inside.

    It is clear to me the visual of dark energies and how if you are not aware, will be sucked into them and their world, how you will serve them and leave your calm peaceful self behind. As a child you are unaware of what even happened, and sadly in the case of the monster in the home, you can’t escape the negativity, you are saturated in it.

    This also seems to explain even my daughter, how her good energy was slurped up by his negative life situation eventually darkening her, changing her brightness, and dimming her.

    The little boy speaks of doing the White Light by saying and knowing he is calm, love, awesome, cool, wise etc.

    This is how we overpower the negative, by knowing who we are.

    In his case he is overly sensitive to anyone who is carrying negative energies, and that even in his home, his parents have to try and be peace, love and joy, for if they are worry, fretting and anxious, he feels that and responds.

    This brilliant example shows how our energies affect others.

    How I had to back up from my original family to maintain my inner peace, love and joy.

    And oddly enough it also shows me that my husband is right on track, when he said that our home had to be the safe haven for my daughter.

    My greatest feat in all of this, was to continually push away the thoughts and fears, and settle instead of keeping it a normal peaceful place to be and for me to match that peace as well.

    Our home had to be a White Light zone.

    My dream of the vortex of negative energy and how it wants to dance with my peace by washing over me and leaving nothing but a shell remaining.

    Unless I speak up, saying loudly and clearly, I know who you are what you want and I refuse you entrance in my world.

    My intent 6 long years ago was to go forth with Love, Peace and Joy, what I didn’t know then was that I was hooking my wagon to White Light.

    All my choices from that day forward had to match peace, love and joy inside. If I didn’t feel at peace I didn’t make that choice, be it mother, father, sister or brother, I let them all go for my peace.

    Now I know I was choosing to wrap myself in a blanket of White Light.

  • Towing others around.

    Last night I dreamt I was peddling a bike that was pulling a big trailer. On the trailer was my husband a lot of junk. Behind me sharing a seat was an unidentified stranger whose feet kept getting in the way of me peddling, impeding our progress.

    It was sooo frustrating and exacerbating and we stopped and started and started and stopped. The hardest part was getting going again, and I hated stopping.

    I kept my head down watching my peddling feet always alert for those big work boots stopping the pedals.

    It was like that man was unaware of his feet, and I was forever letting him know.

    I am in shock and awe, that I didn’t get off the bike and let the two of them be!

    In another dream a few nights before that I was trying to get my son off the floor, and he was immoveable. The harder I tried the more dead weight he became. And I kept finding him in different places and would try and move him.

    Instead of a rock picker I was forever trying to pick him up and the frustration I felt when I tried to get him to help me, and he cared less! Again, why didn’t I just let him lay?

    The struggles showing up in my dreams seem to carry the energy of me in other’s lives, dragging them around with their un-involvement allowing them to ride my coattails or me totally carrying them.

    It shows me hauling them around, while they sit in a relaxed pose watching the world go by.

    Honest, it was like the two of them were looking for interesting places to stop, and I hated stopping, while I was struggling to keep moving.

    I wonder what this metaphor is all about?

    Am I the big boots getting in the flow?

    Am I dragging others when they could move themselves?

    Am I allowing others to get in my way of doing my life?

    The overview and the feelings of how others can drag you down if you believe you should be dragging them is unreal.

    What an energy zapper!

    And more importantly, how can you live a life of a free spirit while towing others around!

  • Where I stopped caring for me.

    As I read back a few days in my blog, I saw where the trimmings had a hold of me and almost ruined Christmas, and then the actions and expectations did the job the trimmings had started.

    It is like negative energy travels from item to person to thing, to any place in my world to latch on, and if I am not aware where my power is, it slips in and takes over.

    What I believe happens as well, as the busier you are the more unaware you become, so busy doing you forget to be.

    My Christmases of past were very busy doings, they wore me out to the last drop of energy, it was what I thought was needed to make a great Christmas to do over and beyond what you normally do.

    To put your self into trimming the house, oodles of gifts, baking, card sending, wrapping your self up into a dozen places until there is no you left.

    Exhausted and depleted.

    A manic Christmas cheer.

    Taking the season of giving into a manic state of doing and overdoing and then doing yet more.

    This holiday season is a playground for those of us who have ‘responsibility addictions’ who feel we carry the power to make others happy. It is like a drugstore of places for us to get our hits.

    There should be a warning label on Christmas.

    “Be careful not to give your self away.”

    I had a very odd dream on Christmas Eve, well actually very early Christmas morning, as I awoke from it, it left me knowing its content was a metaphor for how I lived my life.

    It isn’t a nice dream, but I will state it here anyway.

    I became aware I was in the back of a station wagon, face down, naked from the waist down, I was a young girl and I was watching a man approaching the side of the car, the windows are open and I hear him say my maiden name. In the middle seats are young kids, and the feeling I have is that I will offer my body to him to spare them. He climbs on my back and does his thing. I don’t feel anything, except that I am making him happy.

    When I awoke from this dream it seemed like a complete metaphor for my life.

    How I will be a whore for another and I will do so to spare another pain, I will abuse my body for the sake of others.

    It stayed with me this ugly dream on Christmas day.

    Its contents a visual of how I navigated life in co-dependency, how I will use my body in two ways for the pleasure of others and to spare pain for the innocent, to protect them I will abuse to my body.

    How others use my body was clearly displayed with my approval and willingness.

    Perhaps I needed that shocking dream to wake me up to how I get lost in another’s life.

    And what was so telling was the age of this young girl, as I caught sight of her in the rearview mirror, very blonde hair and young body, her flat chest, being strong beyond her years, willing to suffer for another.

    Courageously selflessly boldly the sacrificial lamb.

    Perhaps I don’t have images of my child abuse, but this is as close as it gets.

    And what I feel was that I truly didn’t focus on his deed and my pain, but his happiness and who I spared.

    What began at the moment of abuse was the fragmentation of living life for self.

    It is there my responsibility gene was developed and pruned, where I became the pleaser and the saver.

    Where I stopped caring for me.

  • Do you own or Rent your life?

    In my dream I was visiting a house that had a hotel lobby in its living room, and strangers continually dropped by intruding into their lives, one long continual social interruption.

    As I lay in bed after waking the vividness of the dream stayed with me, the two story lobby, the winding stairs, the owners trying to live life uninterrupted while being without walls to have privacy, struck me this is how many people live.

    Their lack of being able to say no makes their lives an open pathway, where anyone can drop by and take up space in their worlds.

    In the dream I sat and observed the whole scene, even the intruders were being intruded upon by new comers, layers and layers of lives overlapping each other, meshing together as one chaotic buzzing busy moment in time.

    What a great metaphor for life.

    If your life were a house, what kind would it be?

    Who do you entertain and how?

    Do you own or rent your life?

  • Movement Against Fear Is Empowering

    I awoke from another profound dream and realized that my subconsciousness is healing.

     

    In the dream I am watching/babysitting an elderly couple, both are in bed, but not the same one, each are bickering to each other, clearly at odds.

     

    I am then sitting in a living room that has a glass wall where I can still see them, and I am reading, when suddenly the man is upon me, groping me, with no longer feeble hands, but very strong.  The woman remains sleeping, unaware.

     

    I am able to get free from his grasp and dial 9-1-1 on my phone, while he continues to pursue, and is now very angry with me for calling for help, and seems desperate to get me before ‘help’ arrives.  He also has picked up an object with which to hurt me.

     

    I put objects in his pathway as I am leaving the house, scrambling and telling 9-1-1 the house number of where he is, which angers him more. 

     

    Then I am in my car and the car is slow to start, but does and he is almost to the door handle… and I take off, leaving him grasping at air instead of the door handle of the car.

     

    I escape, successfully and have informed authorities, dream over. 

     

    I awake with a great understanding of what Peter Levine was talking about. 

     

    In the past this I have had a multitude of cat and mouse scenarios played out in my dreams and the dream always ended with me being caught, the end.

     

    Caught and frozen, just the dream ending and me waking up thankful IT being a dream so ‘nothing’ happened and I were saved. 

     

    Saved only because it was a dream, a scary dream or nightmare and I awoke.

     

    In my dream last night, it was the first time I was able to get away and to take the correct moves to do so, instead of freezing.

     

    Freezing and escaping from the scene by going into a dreamland in my mind, “disassociate” or waking up and it is a dream was all I had in the past.

     

    I had no way to escape in reality…until now.

     

    Boundaries, barriers, putting up a fight, standing up are all things a little child doesn’t have.

     

    It is those very items I am reclaiming and my subconscious mind is showing me in a dream I am succeeding.

     

    I awoke from that dream feeling as a heroine and not a victim.

     

    Moveable and not frozen, clearly seeing the cycle of caught and getting free, being restricted and getting away, instead of just knowing one side, frozen.  Frozen in fear.

     

    The freedom to move makes all the difference in the world.

     

    Movement against fear is empowering.

  • Held On So Tightly…

    I awoke at 4:00 am, with my right hand tightly clenched, my arm sore.

     

    A dream flooded my awareness.

     

    I was at a beach, and saw a young girl pour gasoline into the front seat of my car, I hollered, and she looked at me and continued to pour.

     

    When I arrived at the car, she was still standing there smiling and pouring gas in my car, I caught her hand.

     

    And held on.

     

    We were connected for hours, while I tried to call the police, while we waited for them to arrive, while we waited for them to do something.  For the whole long day, I had to hold on to this unruly defiant child, this young girl who did everything in her power to get a way.

     

    I went from hanging on tightly with one hand to at times keeping her in a double arm hug/hold.

     

    She had friends who came by and made snide comments to me, while they tried to get her free from my grasp, yet I held on tighter. 

     

    Her mother and family also happened by, and the mother said, go ahead see if you can do something…

     

    All day long this longhaired, thin as a rail girl and I were joined, she wanting so desperately to get away and I as so determined to hold her.

     

    When I awoke, I realized this is a great metaphor for holding on to wishing someone would change.

     

    It took all my energy, attention, concentration, to hold on to this girl who wanted to no part of what I wanted, and I wouldn’t let go.

     

    Neither of us allowed to be free.

     

    All it takes is one person to change their direction of struggle, it only takes one and we are both free.

     

    As I look upon the last few days, and me trying to get my sisters to see my point of view….this struggle depicts it perfectly.

     

    I am trying to convince them against their will.

     

    When I went to bed last night, I recalled how my mother always focused on who didn’t arrive; who didn’t send a card, who didn’t treat her well, and then wasn’t able to be aware of who did. 

    Her habit became my habit, I too lose many hours of precious time focusing on a segment of people who are in my mental mind’s opinion, not doing what they ‘need’ to do.

     

    I felt a long line of misunderstanding unravel last night as I lay in bed, and then the dream filled my sleeping hours.

     

    If you are so busy working with those struggling against you, you can’t play and enjoy those with you.

     

    I am letting them go…

     

    In my dream, as the long day ended, when we were both tired, I took her information down on how to reach her, and I let her go.

     

    My last sight of her was her walking away free, adjusting her clothes and shrugging and correcting herself, like a dog shaking its self once free from a leash.

     

     

    And I sat there rubbing my hand that had held on so tightly….