I had a friend whose husband was named Loyal. He’s the only person I’ve with that name. According to one source, the name Loyal peaked in popularity in 1890 when it reached 555 on the list of top 1,000 boys’ names.
That friend and I lost touch after she moved to New York to be an arts administrator. That’s one small story in my life. I’ve met a lot of people over the years. I bet that you lose contact with the majority of people with whom you’ve been socially acquainted. If you move away from your hometown, friends from childhood slip away. I sometimes wonder how my next door neighbor is doing. We called ourselves best friends when we were 5, 6, 7, 8. My family moved out of state, and that was that. I heard she majored in Math in college. I would have never taken her for a numbers person. We probably would have drifted apart if I hadn’t moved. Who can know?
Is the Autumn of the year a time when we tend to ruminate on the past? Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve lived a thousand lives. It seems as if the places in my dreams are spots I have physically inhabited. There’s a dream I have where I find possessions that I hid away in an attic. It always seems so real that I expect to come across the items in my waking world. I keep asking the universe to tell me what is real and what is not. I probably know, but don’t know that I do.
I knew I wanted to write today, so I thought about it and then got nervous. I got myself a little worked up about what to write. Now I seem to be writing about the process of thinking and worrying about writing. Is it supposed to work this way?
Dreams are the New Reality
In one of my dreams last night, I was in some unknown location when a guy (I think he was Asian) asked me to meditate with him. I agreed to do so, and we sat down on the floor holding hands with eyes closed. The session was successful. The guy acquired lots of good energy from me, and I felt as if I helped him. The dream tells me that I'm on the right track in my spiritual pursuits. I am sure now that when I dream, I go to real places. I visit other planes of existence. I may have thousands of lives.
I bought some baby spinach the other day. I think I'll do a salad with strawberries. I need some almond slivers and red onion to add to it. I can either make my own vinaigrette or buy some.
Another food thought is to prep an onion or two and freeze them for later use. I think you can do that. What about garlic? I'll have to look it up.
I have sweet potatoes to cook as well as frozen salmon.
I've been doing yoga fairly regularly. I think it has improved my gait, but it could be that I'm just at a good walking time of my nutty hormonal cycle. It seems to work for me to do a session at 9 pm most weeknights.
I've been spending a lot of time practicing wrapped loops. I'm getting better at it. I made a necklace for Linda, one of the residents at my dad's assisted living facility. It's not perfect, but I'm happy with it. I thought the pendant was an angel, but I realized it must be a fairy after looking more closely at it.
I had a lion. We were playing, but when he started to get a little rough, I put him back in his cage.
In two separate dreams, I saved a young girl from a murderer. I remember repeatedly kicking the guy in the second dream through a Plexiglas door.
I watched this tutorial:
And part of this one:
I was inspired to search for royalty-free vintage photos of African American women. I’ll need to apply my librarian skills to the task.
My mood was low yesterday. I think because I was tired. I wanted to have a good cry, but I couldn’t wring out any tears. Chocolate would have surely improved my outlook. I will find some tonight.
Social media is dumb, but I do it for a living and take it seriously. I want to do it right.
My first piece for Science Node was published. It was edited a bit and doesn’t feel like my writing. I plan to get a feel for what my editor wants and do better with the next one.
I finished listening to Don’t Turn Around by Caroline Mitchell. It’s the first of the detective Jennifer Knight books. Knight is a police officer in England with a connection to the paranormal. I was ready to listen to book two but found there’s no audio version. I decided to read the Kindle edition on the Fire HD that I never use. After that I’ll go to book three which is available on audio.
I’m also listening to DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Richard Strassman. It’s about the scientific exploration into the psychedelic compound Dimethyltryptamine. Read the description here.
A community of geese lives at the pond near the assisted living facility where my dad lives. They walk up and down the sidewalk by the pond and sometimes cross the traffic roundabout to feed on grass in the median. Today some idiot hit one with a car. We saw it lying dead in the road and watched as five or so geese stood looking at him (or her). It was so sad, and there was no need for it to happen. We also saw a lone blue heron on the bank of the pond. That is one majestic bird.
I’m going to try and be productive tomorrow. I’ll cook some food, take pictures of my bracelets to list on Etsy, and maybe list some sports cards on eBay. We’ll see how that goes.
Last night I dreamed about the importance of documenting my life via blog or journal. I think I was able to look something up in a blog and figure out something about my life. I can’t remember what it was, though.
I’m convinced that there is an afterlife. I’ve always suspected it, but after listening to the podcast, Real Ghost Stories Online, I am a believer. Do we go on forever, or is there an eventual end to our post-corporeal existence? It can’t be healthy to dwell upon these matters. I should stick to the life that I have now.
Earlier today I had the thought that everything will be okay. I’m not sure where it came from, but it was reassuring. The momentary calm that accompanied the thought is no longer with me.
I slept in yesterday and today. I dreamed this morning about being in a large auditorium. There was a tennis ball that belonged to me but had gotten away. People in the seats were throwing it around trying to get it back to me. I couldn’t catch it. I like to think that my dreams are never meaningless. I want to believe there is something to be learned from the seemingly random stories my sleeping mind produces. I don’t know what to make of this tennis ball dream.
I’ve been watching a web series called The Outs. It’s a well-written and produced Vimeo original. It’s mainly about the lives of two gay men and their straight female friend. I recommend it to those who are not averse to such a theme. While in the Vimeo app, I came across a short called The Perfect Fourth. This was a story about a guy purchasing the guitar of a boy who had recently died. There was kind of a surprise twist to the story.
There’s not much to report when you get up late. It’s another hot day, but I can’t stay in. Rehearsal is at 4:00.
1. Why didn’t I major in English?
2. Will I ever go to sleep at night and not wake up at 3 am -without a sleep aid?
3. Am I kidding myself?
4. Should I give up my dream?
5. Do I really know what my dream is?
6. What do I want to be when I grow up?
7. Why does a 42 year-old ask a question like the previous one?
8. Are there alternate realities in other dimensions?
9. Can I leave here for a while and then come back?
10. Will I always be indecisive?
11. Do I really believe that my day will come?
12. Is my day already here?
It was a panther with beautiful markings on its fur
How can one mistake an panther for an eagle?
I don’t feel like writing tonight, but I’m doing it. I’m realizing that I have too many irons in too many fires. My focus should be on getting more physically fit, but I have this ambition to get a masters degree, so I have to prepare for the stupid GRE. I just don’t know if I can do it.
The panther in my dream was lovable and gentle. Was it there to tell me to be gentle with myself? I found some information about having a panther as your totem animal on this page, http://www.whats-your-sign.com/panther-animal-totem.html. It said that the panther is a powerful, protective presence. Maybe I dreamed it to protect me from me.
I feel like I want to give up. I just don’t want to go on with this charade. Is it because of the all horrible people in the world, or is it the humidity?
Every time I turn on the tv, or get on Facebook, I’m confronted with stories of hate, greed, and just plain stupidity. I’m afraid that all of this noise washing over me is starting to seep into my pores. It’s invading my bones. I find myself hating the people I accuse of being haters. I don’t want to be that person. I want to rise above it, but right now I just don’t feel like rising. I feel like sitting down in the middle of the sidewalk and crying. That could be because of the humidity. Humidity makes you so tired doesn’t it?
This is just a funk that I’m going through. It may be because the days are getting shorter. When the first day of summer comes, I start feeling like it’s all over. You’d think I’d have enough sense to enjoy the warm days that are still to come, instead of dreading winter’s inevitable arrival. You would think that wouldn’t you?
Sometimes I think I should stop writing and instead focus on photography. I should make stories with images. I think that would be moore difficult than it sounds. I like words, I like pictures, I like music. I guess I can’t be that depressed if I still like things.
I didn’t think I would write anything this evening. I did write, and I’m glad of it.
I dreamed the other night of a clogged toilet. I had to reach into it and pull out the objects that didn’t belong and were causing the clog. There’s probably some deep meaning to that. Should I be plucking the things out of my life that are blocking my flow? I don’t like the word flow, but it will have to do for now.