Where have you been all my life???

sha la la

Everyday I look at the world from my window....

There is a story I want to tell. It is inside me. It could be my story, but I havent reached that happy ending yet.... so its not ready. I have climbed my family tree, nestled in its branches and become fascinated by some of the stories there.


I want to explore them. I feel connected to them. I want to be loved by them. Impossible, I know, when you consider time and space... but is it so impossible? Could I meet these people somewhere in my own personal dreamscapes?

I believe you can do almost anything in your dreamscapes....  and it can be therapeutic!

I was overseas when my beloved Nanna died. We had a special bond. We also had my mother in common. I dream of her often. She was our angel. She kept our family together. She had cancer in the 1980s, lived but it came back towards the end. One day, Nanna, Mum and I were sitting around the kitchen table having a cuppa.

I didn't believe she would die. I had discovered dreaming a couple of years before and being the opportunist that I am, I shared with Nanna what I had read. I asked her if she would contact me in my dreams, if she ever died. I was serious, and she shook her head. I remember asking her, that if she could, if it was possible - could she do it?

Closed minds would shrug this off. Old saggy horsey face school mums would probably accuse me of witchcraft.

Nanna knew she was going. The last time I saw her, she was really sick. She looked grey. It was my bon voyage party. I told her I would see her in 6 months. She said I hope so.

This isnt meant to be a depressing blog! You haven't reached the end yet!

Three months after she died, I was in Sylt, Germany. I sat on the beach with 2 friends till after midnight, playing around in the waning sun... it felt like it would last forever. That night, she came.

I walked into the kitchen. Mum says something, and I tell her, You just sounded like Nanna then. And it is her. I am suprised, Nanna! We hug. She holds me, and I said I thought you were gone. We talk about Mum. Nanna asks me if I want to meet somebody. We go outside, and an old lady with blue eyes is in the passenger seat of a white car. We meet. She is Nanna's mother. It was great to meet her. Then they are gone.

It was her. I don't care what people say. It wasn't my psyche regurgitating the day's events. It wasn't the 'Nanna in me' that needed to be expressed.

And she has visited me about 4-5 times since then. That I remember. I've met her on stairs, me coming up them, her coming down - we met in the middle and she was young again, and in a beautiful purple sparkly gown. I have asked her what heaven is like and she has told me, both of us knowing I will not remember in the morning. I even recall telling her how good her analogy was, and that I would definately remember that one. I didn't.

Now, when she comes, I'm not even suprised. I think she is still my angel. She has to be somewhere. As much as I question Heaven and Hell... I still want to believe she is around. Even if it is just in my human memories that keep her alive.

But then, if that is the case, am I holding her back? You know that Aboriginal belief in not taking photos of someone cos it traps their soul on this earthly plain? I do believe that heaven and hell are subjective.. so I don't really think I've trapped her here :) Maybe she will just have to come back and claim her soul...

Maybe she already has.. and has stayed for another ride :) Monique is a Cancerian too....

Celestine

So there has been a lot of death around lately, and weirdly in this blog! What a morbid recurring theme.

Over the last couple of nights, I've dreamt that we had a girl fish, and she died and I couldn't save her. I also dreamt that Spidey, the 6 legged little huntsman who lives somewhere around us, was dead in our bathtub. Today I find out that a neighbours' dog died (I reckon poisoned) last night, and a friend of mine just lost her baby girl halfway through the pregnancy.

Such sadness. A sad Celestine.   

p.s Nanna died 1 May 2001.. 11 years ago..

The dreaming of Zenefertiti

I wish I could dream again... well I always dream.. but dreaming was so exciting once. It was a humble escape from those awkward teenage years, where life actually had promise and i wasnt dragged down to the pits of affordability and general strangeness.

Can someone really be odd? Or is the odd person the one who thinks the other is odd? Or is the odd person the one who thinks they are odd? Why would you want to be odd? Why wouldnt you?

I really admire the person I once was. I hated myself at the time, I hated my life, and couldnt wait to do stuff.... i blamed certain elements for some things and aspired to others to be something more. And yet, I still dont know who or where I am, but strangely enough.. there is a comfort in that I find rewarding....
There are diaries and dream journals from years ago, that I love to look through.. i scorn their simplicity while agonising over things that might have been - but better they werent.

one thing that has always been me is faith. Im not sure in what though...thats the oddity of this space im in... it was runes, it was tarot, it was dreaming, it was drugs, it was staying in your place... knowing your place and not moving forward, up, down or even left of centre... but something happens when you forget about the idealism and move on... something happens when your heart is broken and your dreams are achieved, no matter how elusive...

somehow in this place I have lost myself.. and I creep into the periphery sometimes.... wondering and tiptoeing, thinking how splendid it would be if i were to return with taffeta and earrings... with pnk and purple and the blacks and the greys...
there are some things to avoid... they are no doubt dredged up with those dreams... the doubts and the feelings that you must recognise before you can go to the next level....

why is it that some things happen? the fabric of life and love and hate and sadness is a colourful memory, maybe predestined but maybe just accidental... and when the threads come loose, and the shards of your mind start to fuse together in the strangest way.. maybe that is when that grey feeling fades to black and you can wake up.. refreshed and bewildered.. ignorant and happy.

its bliss

a love only found in dreams

I had the strangest dream last night... i thought about it a bit after I woke up.. i reckon there are two types of dreams - reflective and predictive... the reflective ones are wierd stories made up of fragments of memories and your days and the wierd synchronicity that dances between. Predictive dreams are just that, but for me, far and few between.

Last night I was a time traveller, and running from something. I was on a tour of a town with a concentration camp.. and then i was the one being chased and hiding. There was a shop, and I hid, wearing a pinjab (is that what the head dress is called?) to hide my face from guards. I hide behind the counter, on my back and find a secret door. The shop owner has a hexagon of rooms, each suited to a different time, and I find that I change depending on the time I am in. I fall in love with this shopkeeper, who for some reason only known to my psyche, is the evil nazi guy from Inglorious Basterds. Hmm. Anyway, he is also being chased by someone, and it turns out he is taking the blame. I try to be with him, to tell him I love him but he is not listening to me. I take the chance and kiss him three times. Im then home, in Frangipani St, (where i grew up) and he is gone, he wont talk to me. I am with three other brunette girls, in the playground of my primary school, and a woman and child come to us, and the women tells us someone is on the phone for Rachel. The man is in a car, one the phone. It turns out that I am the one he wants to speak to. I am quiet cos Im heartbroken. He says i dont sound the same. We speak in German. I tell him Im quiet because my heart is injured. It hurts me so much. I ask him why we cant be together, why we cant just hug. He says no, I put the phone down, hoping to catch him in the car, without him realising Ive left the phone. I run outside, but the car is gone. I quickly run back inside to the phone, but the woman is hanging it up. I panic and run outside again, which this time is in the backyard at Frangipani st again. Iam calling out to him "Willie," I cry. Im devastated. Then I see him hiding behind a tree... he is much younger, but it is him. We run to eachother and embrace... I am so happy. So in love.

.....

yeah. go figure.

Well tomorrow is weigh in day again.. Im hoping for a loss because Ive put on 2 kgs in the last week (1.5kgs since my last post).. ive exercised my darndest too! Ive been going for walks every morning and doing the Wii EA Active or Wii Fit Plus afterwards... ive been watching what I eat too, making sure its less than the energy im burning by living. :)

As far as my goals go.. Im a bit further from the less than 100kgs one.. but im getting there.... i havent started running yet, but im doing the warm up walk ;p I havent done enough housework but I plan too (always plan  to, but I should be studying) and I have made some healthy meals this week.. pizza potato bake and healthy tacos... i even had a smaller serving of spag bog tonight, with heaps of salad... im so looking forward to weighing in tomorrow... I hope Im not disappointed!