What are dreams and why do we have them? NOVA joins leading dream researchers as they embark on a variety of neurological and psychological experiments to investigate the world of sleep and dreams. Delving deep into the thoughts and brains of a variety of dreamers, scientists are asking important questions about the purpose of this mysterious realm we escape to at night. Do dreams allow us to get a good night’s sleep? Do they improve memory? Do they allow us to be more creative? Can they solve our problems or even help us survive the hazards of everyday life?  Tune in to NOVA: What Are Dreams?, Tuesday November 24^th at 8pm on WVPT.

Hell of a week for me to have my last session with my therapist right? It wasn’t this set in stone date by any means.  A few weeks ago I finished this stack of papers, or worksheets if you will, on losing someone.  Since then our time has slowed down and there isn’t much left to say.  As helpful and wonderful as she has been I seem to know the answers myself already.  There isn’t much to say that hasn’t already been said. 

So halfway through my session she tells me she doesn’t think I need to come in anymore unless I really feel the need to.  This surprisingly didn’t freak me out any and she said she wanted to leave me with a few key things to think about….

• She believes I am one of the most mentally healthy people she knows and she sometimes feels as if I should be sitting in her chair.  I have apparently been one of her most favorite client in years.  Good ego boost.
• I should never feel there is a time limit on this. Not seeing her doesn’t mean I should now feel 100% better.  It just means the worst is over but I still need to handle my grief as it comes.  Not ignore it.
• I need to keep writing.  I know this, she knows this.  It has been one of the best things I have done.
• Use my support system.  Keep them in tack.
• Continue with the goals that Bill and I wanted to obtain even though he isn’t with me.  Like my trip to Wyoming.  I can do those just fine on my own.
• Be selfish.  This time is very much for self discovery and soul-searching.  Use it to the fullest extent.
• Don’t hold back the tears.  If I still feel the need to cling to the kitchen floor then I need to get it out but always remember I will get back up. 

After a few laughs and even a few tears she gave me a big hug and told me to call if I needed anything.  Then she caught me as I opened the door and made me promise to call her if he ever did come back around.  She laughed saying I didn’t even have to call her as a therapist, she just wanted to know what the explanation was too…and any other juicy details:) I told her no problem.  That would be the biggest post I have ever written.

Here is to taking that next step forward.

the end might not be that near.

Due to the lack of time and motivation (both internal and external), I was about to close this blog. But why?

There may be a couple of reasons, but none of them is strong enough. Motivation to keep on is stronger, even when it’s not as strong as it should be.

You all see, English is not my native language. I sometimes feel like a baby writing stupid things to communicate, while I’d like to do more than that: communicating on a charming – or, at least, clever – style. I am able to do that in my first language.  But I can’t just write it and translate it afterwards. It’s not natural. Language affects our thoughts, and I’m sure that both my thoughts and my way of seeing the world are different in English. Not only because there are different words to be chosen, but because my story with these words is different. It’s a different story. Words were acquired on a different context and have different cognitive associations.

Actually, I feel lighter in English. I just hope that someday I will be able to write better. To write in a way that I can in fact translate this lightness into the right words and sentences in order to make it obvious and pleasant to the reader.

For the time being, all I can do is trust my heart and its ability to reach other hearts, no matter what language is used.

I am a musical girl.  One of those Broadway freaks, you know?  Most of my time on stage was non-musical, and I always wished I possessed even a hint of talent (or self-assurance) to audition for the good ol’ song-and-dance.  I was comfortable, even confident, with Shakespeare and Miller and all those wonderful stage-writers, but when it came to singing?  Gulp.  Not so much.  I have what some call an old-fashioned voice – - fairly low and raspy, like a jazz singer.  No beautiful soprano here, folks.  Anyway, dream roles for the musical stage:

Aldonza from Man of La Mancha by Dale Wasserman

Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street by Stephen Sondheim

Lucy from Jekyll and Hyde by Frank Wildhorn

Marguerite from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Frankl Wildhorn

What are things you wish you were capable of doing?

“He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me… whenever… wherever – in case I need him. And I expect I will – as I always have. He is just my dog.” – GH

In my pursuit of an Owner, I seek to fulfil his needs, to fuel his imagination, to inspire his heart and to have earned his respect. When his world is spinning, I want to be a force that helps to stable him, to assure him of his ability, and to keep him earthed. I want to help him explore his dreams, and to achieve them, to be the best he can be.

This may sound strange to some, in that I may become his property, but I seek to be more than just object or plaything. I seek to become part of him, an extension of his abilities and his goals.

Last night I dreamt that the British actress Lesley-Anne Down had just arrived in the U.S. as a penniless immigrant. (In the dream, she was not a famous actress.) I was in the lobby of a homeless shelter for men, located in the Georgetown area of Seattle. I was trying to get the employees there to help me locate a women’s shelter. They handed me a phone book, but the listings were in some sort of crazy semi-alphabetical order that I could not make any sense of. Finally, one of the employees told me there was a women’s shelter in Greenwood. In the dream, I thought I knew where it was, even though I know of no such shelter in real life.

I left the men’s shelter and went out to the white car, where my friend Steve and Lesley-Anne were waiting. Steve is single, so I was hoping that he and Lesley would hit it off. However, when I got into the car, Steve was visibly upset and I found out that Lesley talked him into turning himself into the police for some minor offense. (I can’t remember what it was, but possibly a hit-and-run with minor injuries. Note that this type of irresponsible behavior is extremely uncharacteristic of the real-life Steve.) In the dream, the offense happened some time ago and was over and done with, and I told him that I thought it extremely foolish to turn himself in. But he seemed to feel that he needed to do it for his conscience.

When trying to make sense of this dream, I thought back to Mambo C’s tarot reading, and the conflicting male/female energies in my life. The dream may be expressing my own conflicts between objective efficiency (potentially ruthless) and subjective morality (which has the potential to make me indecisive, vulnerable and obsessive over the past). It’s tricky sometimes to find the middle road.

I’m still making adjustments to my shelf that holds the shrines for La Sirene, Agwe, Erzulie and Ogoun. At the back of Agwe’s shrine, I placed an image of a whaling boat (although I do not think of it as such) with a crew full of either dogs or wolves that was part of an Inuit art calendar.  The artist is Pudlo Pudlat [Canadian Inuit, 1916-1992]; the title of the piece is “Animal Whalers II.” I like this image a lot, and once I added the word “IMMAMOU” in white paint, it fit in perfectly. I am not really satisfied with the sea turtle as a representation of Agwe, although I do like the turtle and it will remain in the shrine. I spent the week searching online for an affordable Neptune or Poseidon statue that would fit on my shelf, all to no avail. There was one interesting ceramic statue of “Prince Neptune” on Etsy that I liked a lot. It was affordable, but turned out to be a bit too large for the available space. In the end, I found a nice Neptune bust on eBay that is meant to be placed in an aquarium. It even has a gold crown and some blue/green jewels on it. I don’t know why I didn’t think of aquarium figures before. They are both the right size and affordable.

I want to get something larger for Erzulie, but I am not sure what yet, either a figure or a larger image. I saw a couple of things online that I liked, but have not yet made a decision.

I came home from work one day last week to find La Sirene’s expensive mermaid mirror had tumbled off the shelf onto the cats’ ceramic water dish below, breaking the dish in two. I am a bit puzzled as to how the mirror fell down. I had it balanced upright (handle down) so that La Sirene could see her own reflection, but it had been leaning towards the back of the shelf and should not have fallen forward.

My first thought was that Luna, my younger cat who likes to mess with everything, had gotten up on the shelf and knocked the mirror down. However, on close examination, I could not find anything else that appeared to be disturbed. What’s also interesting is that the mirror itself did not sustain any damage whatsoever: no chips or scratches, much to my relief.

I am not sure what this means, if anything. I do not want to be one of those people who reads metaphysical meaning into every single event. So my list of possible theories are:

• The mirror managed to fall somehow in a way that I did not anticipate. Mundane and entirely possible.
• La Sirene is irritated at me about something, perhaps because she is sharing her shelf with 3 other lwa. One of them is her husband, but perhaps she isn’t pleased about sharing with Erzulie or Ogoun. I hope this isn’t the case, as I really have limited space, although it might explain why the mirror didn’t sustain any damage.
• La Sirene is irritated at Luna for attempting to disturb the shelf and the mirror fell to scare the cat away.
• Erzulie is unhappy that La Sirene’s shrine has nicer things in it (including offerings and a better avatar) and threw the mirror.  I am working on improving Erzulie’s area, but it’s not going to be immediate.

I am not sure which of these is true, so have resigned myself to once again wait and see what happens next.  In the meantime, my studies continue. I also want to set up a shrine area for the Ghede. I’m waiting for a skeletal bride/groom figure to arrive that I ordered from Gargoyles. I also put a partial payment on an original painting that I fell in love with at  Gargoyles last week. The painting is a portrait of a skeleton guy wearing a suit and tie. A crown floats above his head and between his grinning teeth he holds a lit cigarette. I laughed and thought of the Baron when I saw it. It should make a nice counterpiece to the steampunk Brigitte print I recently ordered from Etsy. I can’t wait for it to arrive.

Not too happy with my shooting on the weekend – the variables did not come together .  Not sure that this one cuts it – feedback wanted please.  d

Me: Hello God?  Are you up there?  I need to talk.

God: I’m listening.

Me: So I really want to find my calling, and I have all these ideas, and I keep writing things down, but I don’t know what to do with all the information . . .

God: Well, you can . . .

Me: And then there’s all the stuff I have to do with the kids and the husband, you know?  It makes it hard, God . . .

God: I know my child, I . . .

Me: And life in general is so messy, there are so many distractions.  I mean Facebook alone keeps me busy for hours a day . . .

God: Well, why don’t you . . .

Me: I feel like I can’t focus on anything, everything ringing or jangling in my brain, and nothing comes through . . .

God: I’m beginning to . . .

Me: I wish you would talk to people, like you did in the old days.  Are you listening?  Hello?  Are you even there God?

God: I’ve got another call . . .

So, today, we sat in the back for church.  And as the good Catholics know, sitting in the back means you go up for communion last.  Now, in our church, we pray after receiving communion, basically until the music stops and the priest moves on to the next stage of mass.  Which, if you’re sitting in the back, is not very much time.  I always march into church with my wish list for God: please bless Son1, Daughter, Son2, Husband, make me a better mom, oh yeah and make sure to help Husband be a better husband, he needs the help God, and while you’re at it, you better forgive him, he’s got some little things he’ll be talking to you about, and help Mom feel better and help me . . .

Well, as we did not have any “official” prayer time – after communion and before announcements – I couldn’t go through my prayer wish list.  All I could do was kneel quietly and feel slightly harried.  Which made me think about being silent.  When do we ever just take the time to be silent?  Not just in our relationship with God, but just in our lives, to sit quietly (my fellow moms of young ‘uns know that this may have to occur in a locked bathroom), to allow ourselves to be quiet, without planning, thinking, plotting, angsting or strategizing.  Just sitting quietly.  For me, a vestige of my Cubicle-land time is feeling anxious about looking unproductive.  Typing madly at the computer, talking energetically on the phone or in a meeting, walking about with a clipboard were all acceptable modes of being.  Sitting with a thoughtful look on one’s face . . . not so much.  And yet, how many meetings could have been shortened or avoided, how many emails deleted, if everyone felt brave enough to just sit quietly.  And occasionally think.

In the Christian tradition, there’s a passage from the Bible that goes Be still and know that I am God.  I think the passage suggests that silence, and listening, can help us discover our calling – our own source of divinity – as much as or maybe even more than requesting, speaking, telling God what’s on the wish list.

Similarly, my friends who meditate report amazing breakthroughs in problems they have been noodling over – or they report feeling calmer and less anxious about their problems.

I think sometimes life drives us to be proactive and busy, because proactivity, movement, and visible progress look productive.  Thinking, contemplation, silence look . . . unproductive, lazy, unworthy (unless you are a Buddhist monk).  But all the movement and activity may blind us to the answer that’s sitting right in front of our nose, may keep us from acknowledging a deep need that is too quiet to make itself heard over the cacophony of life.

Sooo – give it a shot.  Is 5 minutes of quiet, without distractions, no reading, no thinking, no list-making, just quiet time doable?  Would love to hear about your experiences.

As always, if you liked this post, please consider sharing with a friend:

NaNoWriMo status: almost 22K, more than I’ve ever written on one paper.  But still so far behind!  More mad typing in my future.

Welcome to my mind when I’m asleep! I’m going to start writing a dream log because I dream a lot, and all my dreams are so weird/funny/creative. I love my dreams…

Esther wanted me to drive this church van-look-a-like somewhere. I guess there was no one else to drive it. We were on top of something, so I couldn’t drive off this piece of land or else we would all die. The rule was to reverse park or something. I’m not very good at reverse parking and I couldn’t see past this huge van, so we almost fell off this cliff a couple of times, but fortunately we didn’t. So I parked many times in different parking spaces, but Esther didn’t like where I parked. She said we should park closer to this particular building, so that she could get to see this cute boy there. So I said ok. I drove closer to the building to find a parking spot. All the parking spaces near the building, however, were handicapped parking. 3 rows were reserved for handicapped. At last I found a non-handicapped parking spot. I didn’t want to reverse park, so I said, “Screw it. I’m forward parking.” I parked. Nothing happened, so I thought it was fine. Esther and I, and I think there were a couple other people but I don’t remember their faces, walked to go inside this building. We all dispersed when we got inside and this is the start of another dream sequence within the same dream.

Apparently, someone has been talking about me and spreading rumors about how I was in love with some guy. I don’t really remember, but I think his name was Jihwan (derived from 강지환). However, I wasn’t in love with him or anything. I don’t know why I was in the that particular building, but I was just there. There were a lot of people (maybe 30ish) and I didn’t know any of them. I was standing alone, awkwardly. This guy was watching me from afar and kept on staring at me. I felt awkward and kept doing my shifty eye thing. I didn’t know who he was, but apparently he was Jihwan. He was sitting on top of a chair with his arms on his knees. This dream was so vivid, so I remember even his sitting position. Anyways, he kept staring at me and I didn’t move either, but somehow in the next “screenshot” we were closer together. We were talking distance apart. I was still standing sideways. Before I didn’t know who this Jihwan person was, but apparently now I knew him. He was really good-looking HAHA because his face was 박용하’s (Park Yong Ha = a Korean actor). This is a picture that I just found of how he looked in my dream. He had his bangs down, looked a little younger than this picture, and no facial hair. It was really random because I never was really obsessed about him and I haven’t watched anything that he was in since last summer. Anyways, Park Yong Ha or Jihwan in my dream, started talking to me. He wasn’t smiling at all.

He said, “Hey I heard you like me.”

I didn’t know about the rumors, so I said, “Yeah… You’re a really nice guy..”

He said, “You shouldn’t like me. I’m not ready for a relationship and all.”

I didn’t say anything because I was really confused, but I was thinking, “What the heck. When did I ever say I wanted to be in a relationship with him? I’m 19 and he’s like 26. What the?”

And then, he just left me there.

I got rejected. hahaha. I was really confused. Oh and I remembered looking in a mirror in my dream, and I had this really cute hairstyle. I had really layered side bangs and my hair was half straight/half wavy. I should look up that hairstyle to do next time. Anyways, I couldn’t process what just happened, so I stood there for awhile. And then I saw Christina. I was really happy to see her. We were eating together, but there was another weird rule that you couldn’t drink liquids at all. Christina “stole” a bottle of orange juice, and so we were sharing it together. Then I had deja-vu in the dream. And I said, “Omg. Christina remember last year? The same thing happened. You, Cat, me, and all these people were sharing one cup of Coke together.. blah blah blah.” I was trying to forget what just happened with the Jihwan dude, but I realized how good-looking and mysterious he is and I was slightly falling for him. hahaha. Anyways I must have been really thirsty because my mouth was getting dry in real life. I was breathing through my mouth. And then I just woke up really quickly.

Interesting dream? It’s kinda cute.

I have a lot of other dreams that I dreamt about. I guess I will write about those later because I have to start studying.

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The Alchemist
by Paulo Coelho

This is a beautiful story about following one’s dreams and becoming the person God intends us to be. It is a story about love and the power of love. It is a story about choices. It is a story about life.

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It was a very long dream, but the only thing I care to remember is a sheet of white paper that suddenly started to grow what appeared to be tiny blue veins and in the center of each cluster a dot would appear and from that dot an electric blue ladybug would materialize. A process that repeated itself over and over again. 

I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t think it’d happen so soon.

In fact, I’ve done a number of things to prepare for it. And now, even though I’m way ahead of schedule. Even though I have a handful of half-written songs that I could pull from right now. And even though I have some song ideas in the back of my mind that I really believe in.

Even with all that, I’ve hit that place in 2009 where the mere thought of writing (what will likely be a really crappy song) makes me want to cry.

(And, let’s just be honest, everything makes me want to cry right now.)

My heart pounds at the thought of typing this: I don’t want to write.

I don’t want to. I don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t.

I think it’s the swirling spinning stormy combination of all the excitement in my life. blah blah I’m not complaining. I genuinely AM excited about life and what’s before us. I just need a nap. A nap that’ll last about 4 days, because, well, there’s a lot going on. (This is the part where I remind myself that “negative stress affects us in the same way that positive stress does.”)

I’ve got 5 songs staring me in the face. FIVE. And the 95 behind me are doing nothing to contribute to any creative momentum I once had…

The pen feels heavy.

My brain moves like molasses.

These 5 feel as impossible as the 100 I started with.

5 to go.

Piece of cake, right?

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My mindset is not the same as that of many college graduate travellers, or “backpackers,” as they prefer to be called. A “backpacker” wants to put as many Countries under his belt and into his passport as quickly as possible… If he’s lucky he’ll come back with a really scraggly beard and a story about sleeping with a blonde sweedish skiier.

They will usually try to pull out obscure useless information about one of the countries they’ve visited once they’re back home with friends drinking at the bar, “you know, in Madagascar, you can only drink with your right hand.” (this is just an example, and its not even real, but you get the picture.)

So many kids I’ve met rattle off all the countries they’ve been to in flowing streams of arrogance, “Well, where do I begin… I landed in France and took a train to Germany and a bus to Brussels, and flew over to Prague; of course I had to go to Amsterdam to get stoned, and back to Germany for Oktoberfest, then up to Finland… ”  They all come back feeling worldly, wise, and condemning America.

Apparently, the greatest evil of the world is their home and it only took a 2-week trip, and 15 countries to come to this revelation.  “Go to Zimbabwe if you really want to see what the world is like man… the people are beautiful there… not like in America, everyones fat and stupid.. and the people in Sweden are so smart… not like Americans, so stupid and arrogant.” It is amazing to me how these people come back from their trip “knowing” how the people of a particular country are when the 24 hours they spent there were split between bing drinking in popular bars and visiting a tourist hot spot for souveniers, like a whitty t-shirt that says “I got stoned in Jerusalem.”

One thing I wanted to commit myself to on this trip was to be completely and utterly stationary. I wanted to know the area and people, so well that they did not even notice me when I walked by. I did not want to be jumping busses and trains, boats and planes in seach of the place every world-tripper was talking about that week. I didn’t want to see 6 countries and 20 cities in 2 months. I wanted to become entrenched in 1 small town.

Mi futura mascota.

¿No es la cosa más bonita que habéis visto jamás?

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As with all images on this site, click on the pictures to see the added commentary, silly dancing, or other compromising material.

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I had a dream about my dad this morning.  It was not a good dream.  In it, he was in bed and he was trying to communicate with me, but he couldn’t talk well.  He looked just the way he did right before he died.  Meaning, he was very thin and feeble.  He was mouthing something, but I honestly couldn’t understand what he was saying.  Then he started thrashing around, and he knocked a small Christmas tree that was by the bedside to the floor.   I was trying to hold him back, but he got out of bed and fell.  He started slipping under the bed, and I was wondering how I would get him back into bed.  I reached for him, put my arms under his, and I was surprised how light he was.  I easily picked him up and put him back in bed.

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