Dream 4-13-17

I had a dream that I was staying at my mom’s house and it was a trailer. There was a walk way that was rickety filled with laundry room and too much laundry to do. The doors barely locked. My mom was taking care of a newborn baby who was clean and an overgrown toddler who was dirty. My kids spilt soup in the carpet. We found a golden retriever who loved the kids. Turns out we were being watched by some rebel group from the future. Their world was blowing up and the explosion was traveling backwards in time. They were trying to get messages through to us from the dog to the baby. The dog was a future person in disguise and was being loaded with good feelings to pass to me and the baby. When things reached dire straits, they traveled back in time themselves and got us to jump in their car. It was super crowded so we had to double up. I ended up sitting in front of a guy who was sitting cross legged in the seat, and I soon realized he was blind. He was actually a deer who was constantly seeing the future and listening for the Oracle. He laid his handz on the side of my face in a way that felt sensual, but he was getting my personality.  He filled me with a sense of love, warmth, and light, and I was put in charge of the baby. I knew we were going to fight this chaos together. We came up on a billboard, actors’ names scrawled across. Two together made me see a different name that wasnt there. My faith in humanity wavered just a moment. The deer said, “you’ve been fooled before, haven’t you?” I said yes, and he nodded. No more words were needed. I knew the seer wasn’t fooling me but still he understood my pain. I felt the unspoken message–just because I was fooled before doesn’t mean I should give up on trust.


Like Children

She remembered clearly that moment when he had at last surrendered to her.  So much motion without action, for so long.  She had thought herself to be beyond all that, a grown woman who knew how the world worked.  “Are you ready for this?”  she had asked, but it seemed silly.  Why wouldn’t he be?  They’d been playing at it for ages, the frustration building steadily.  And he was older, but still he stammered and rambled like a teenage boy.  She hadn’t seen a man so nervous in quite a while, and it was as amusing as it was endearing.  He would have kept going, had she not stopped him with a kiss.

Lovemaking with him had always been that way–soft, playful, passionate.  In those dear moments, she felt like he would never let go of her.  It didn’t make sense.  They shouldn’t have been more than friends, yet they really always had been.  Always there had been something more, and trying to be just friends had proved difficult.  Now the line was even more blurred, with nights spent snuggled together talking over tv, making out on the couch, waking up together and talking philosophy in the sun’s first light.  It was everything it should have been, and everything it needed to be.  It was more than just friends or an “arrangement”, but nothing too serious.  It was more than they needed it to be, but less than they wanted.  They danced about it like children, fumbling around in the dark and learning lessons that wouldn’t be appreciated until much later.

Now, it was finally over, and he was gone.  She knew this day would come, had dreaded it, and couldn’t even bring herself to really say goodbye.  She’d hugged him last like she would see him again next week, and wouldn’t allow any dangerous words to escape her lips.  He did the same.  A hug because it would be a while before he saw her again, and though they both knew that was more of an if than a when, they knew better than to speak it.  And though they’d never called it love, she still couldn’t hide the pain in her eyes, and he looked away–not with guilt, but respectfully.

Had it really been love?  She wouldn’t admit it to herself, and was afraid she was reading too much into it.  But she knew different.  They had always spoke a language unheard, the kind that lovers often used, and her guesses had never been wrong.  He was just as aware of it, and they had even been known to use such glances on purpose when words failed them.  So many confessions, apologies, flirtations, and shows of tenderness, all without words.

She thought back to his nervousness, his gentleness, how he spoke as if he would always be there, though their time had been measured from the very start.  What could it have been if not love?  The first night, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he brushed her hair from her face, kissed her gently.  The night they were both too tired for sex and just watched tv instead–but as she undressed for bed, he could not help but to scoop her up in his arms, unfasten her bra, take her breast into his mouth with a passionate kiss that made them both wish they weren’t so tired.  The morning she tried clumsily to turn him on, so he took over, speaking gently to her and holding her so completely.  And every single time they giggled together at a moment of clumsiness and sometimes for no reason at all.  It had just been so much fun, so comfortable and easy, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.  

She wanted to call it love, but she wouldn’t allow it. And maybe that’s why it collapsed.

Never Miss a Chance

“Never miss a chance to say I love you,” she said, but I have missed them all. I screamed it loud in my head, dripped it from every pore, hinted at every turn implied it with sacrifice  but still I could not bring myself to say the words. And it wasn’t good enough.

I tricked myself into believing that it would be good enough so long as you only knew, but it wasn’t. Oh yes, you knew, and you joined the games, leaving hints at every turn. But if it was ever enough, I wouldn’t be holding on to this regret.

I’m sure it’s too late now, but I need you to know, I really did love you. I trusted you with all of my being and that trust has never wavered. I wish the best for you,  and all the other happy cliches,  because the truth is I let you go not once but twice because all I ever wanted was for you to be happy and I knew you’d never truly be happy if you gave up your dreams for someone else, even me.

Please don’t feel bad about anything that did or didn’t happen between us, because I’ve never regretted a single second except the ones in which I hesitated to show you that I cared. And if I could do it all again, I know I’d muddle through every second of those mistakes just for a few hours at your side. Because the truth is, it’s always been you. This blog is my heart, and it’s all a testament to you.  The times that I wanted you, times you inspired me, times that fear and unfinished business with others kept me away from you.

But now it’s time to let it go. Because I loved you, but it wasn’t meant for us. And holding in now can only make it worse. So when we meet again in the next life, I hope it’s just as messy and beautiful. I hope you set fire to my soul and rip my soul to shreds. I want to know that I’m alive, and the colors were always brighter with you.

I wish safe journeys, Wanderer, until we meet again. Never lose faith and keep the fires burning.

Yours truly,

Protected: Sionnach’s Wager – Part 1, “The Bet”

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An Early Morning Video Game Action Sequence Dream

Also, I had a dream that could have been a scene from a Final Fantasy game… and AGAIN with the frogs???  Anyway, I was working at the only desk in the large lobby of a large building.  I’m not sure what kind of business it was.  We were close to the water.  There was a barricade at the end of a bridge across from the entrance with a bunch of people behind it.  No one in or out.  I was watching the news–Japan had just bombed Hawaii again.  About half the people behind the barricade looked Japanese, probably seeking refuge.  Was I working at a hotel?  I don’t know.  Then a little girl slips in the lobby door, and her dad is not far behind, trying to catch up.  Then she slips out the side door before he can even get through the first door.  I ran out to help him.  He kept blindly following her path, so I tried to cut around to get in front of her.  Finally we caught her.  He was Japanese, and scared to death.  He was worried that they would put him outside the barrier if he was caught.  I decided to take him to my apartment to hide, because I was worried that they would end up in an internment camp, and I trusted him.  On the way, he explained that he was actually running from the Japanese, because they thought his daughter was a magical assassin.  We reached the other bridge which led to the floating dome city thing which was actually where my apartment was.  It looked like the dome at Disney, but much larger.  This bridge was wider, but empty because everyone was at work.  We started to cross, but then 5 giant green frogs landed on the bridge in front of us.  They told us to hand over the assassin girl.  We would not, but we also had no idea how to fight them.  They produced some sort of missiles from pores on their back, and shot them at us.  The little girl deflected them with a force field and blew up the frogs and half the bridge instead.  Yeah this is really starting to sound like the opening scene from FFX… Well, the other half of the bridge looked shaky, and I was afraid to cross.  The little girl used her force field to reinforce it long enough for us to cross, and then the bridge crumbled after we got past it and the girl released her force field.  We ran towards the dome, and some bird creatures appeared near the entrance.  Seriously, can we not get 5 steps in a Final Fantasy dream sequence without running into some creatures?  We slipped around them unnoticed and made it through the door.  We would have ran towards my apartment, but I couldn’t remember where it was.  I decided it must be in the very center of the dome, because then it would be harder for the creatures to sense our presence.  When I made up my mind, we were there.  No walking, just there.  The little girl was watching cartoons on my tv and the dad sat near the back of the room looking worried, but it had been hours (apparently) and no creatures had found us.  No one even suspected that they were with me.  We were complete strangers to each other, why would they?  I decided to take a shower.  And then I woke up.

Climbing to New Heights

He gave me a young birch tree, about 8 feet tall.  We planted it in the ground next to the house.  That was some time ago.  I thought maybe it was time to check on it.  I saw that it had grown taller than the 2-story house which it was planted beside.  I’d been given some bees and thought the birch would make a good home for them.  I climbed a little more than half way up and settled them into the tree.  They flourished and began busily building their honeycomb.  I could see them in their flurry and the honey began to flow.  I climbed higher so I could watch them from a safe distance.  All the way to the top I climbed, and I felt some wet spots under my hands as I did.  Green spots budding from branches which had been cut once.  Fresh, green, and wet, a bit sticky with sap.  At the top, there were a few of the branches which had been cut when it was a small thing that had grown wider but not budded and still had flat spots from the cut.  I sat down to look around.  I could see the top of the black roof on the white house, a peaceful place.  I could see the leaves on the trees, and now that I’d climbed to the top, the bees were really flourishing. I had climbed all the way up, and at the top I found peace.  My labors were coming to fruition with ease.


When I woke up, I thought about this dream, looked up its symbolism.  The tree with its connections to growth, love, home, protection.  The honeycomb with all the same.  Honey–self explanatory.  I even thought to myself how wonderful it was for the bees to be doing so well at creating their home so fast.  I wanted none of the honey for myself.  And then the connections of the birch to various love goddesses, Venus of course, but also Freya and Brighid, who are goddesses not just of love but of hearth and home.  I checked my card of the day on the tarot app for my phone–it was the High Priestess.  Yes ma’am, I’m listening.  On Friday and Sunday it pulled the Ace of Pentacles, these three cards being the only deviations from pulling cups cards for the past two weeks.  And for two weeks before, I pulled cups alternately with wands, mainly the Page of Wands, but I know who he is.  I know to whom the wands referred.

I guess I know where the cards are leading me, but not really to whom.  That is always hidden from me in the readings and the dreams.  But what is love if not a journey to which we know not the end?

Symbolism resources:

Wilderness and Order: Roxy Paine

I wrote this for an art class I was taking in the spring of 2006.  I don’t feel as connected to this piece as I did then, but I still feel that it is a solid piece describing the connection between the viewer and the artwork.  I had never heard of Roxy Paine before this assignment.  If I remember correctly, the only thing I read about him was the article that I found in ArtNews.  Since the newest work that I cited was made in 2005, I’d guess that the article was from that year, but our instructor told us not to include a Works Cited page, so I can’t say for sure.  Something in the back of my brain is telling me to look up the April 2005 issue… if that pans out, I will try to include a link to it, or at least cite it here.  For more on the works of Roxy Paine, check out his website at http://www.roxypaine.com


Before I set my hands on that old volume of ArtNews, I knew that I would find something special inside.  I opened the book to the  contents page, and I immediately saw something that caught my eye.  It was the artwork of Roxy Paine, a contemporary artist whose work makes a clear statement to myself.  After reading the article about him, I knew I was not alone.

For some time now, I have toyed with the idea of a clash of the wilderness of nature and the orderliness of man.  Anytime I see an abandoned man made structure overrun by plant life, I marvel at the versatility of nature and her ability to conquer man.  At the same time, I marvel at man’s ingenuity to design something  that can stand up against nature and stay strong for years.  I wonder what future generations will see and think about us when they cross the ruins of our society centuries from now.

Roxy Paine embodies these ideas in his artwork, to some extent.  For example, his Weed Choked Garden of 2005 seems to be a satire of suburban life.  The suburb dweller works especially hard to keep weeds out of his or her lawn and garden, yet nature always manages to escape these attempts at control.  Always, some “good” plants will survive, while others are laid to ruin.

In a museum, an installation of realistic looking tomatoes and other plants left unattended and choked out by weeds.

Weed Choked Garden, 1998-2006

Furthermore, Paine adds to a sense of collision with his stainless steel sculptures of trees.  These he places in parks–“pretenders” among the real trees.  To me, it feels like the perfect marriage of nature and machine.

Two steel trees with branches outstretched towards one another.

Conjoined, 2007

In addition to his parody of suburbia, Paine adds his commentary on art and the creation of  art.  He produces nature sculptures with the precision and detail of a photorealist painter.  His amazing attention to detail leads one to second guess his or her eyes.  I marvel at his process.  He takes an organic object and reproduces it with meticulous, machine-like detail.  Likewise, he uses machines to create abstract artworks.  One example is his PMU (Painting Manufacturing Unit, 1999-2000).  This machine has an arm which spurts white paint onto a canvas at regular intervals.

A machine sprays white paint onto a canvas, leaving paint drying to various depths.

PMU, 2001

Lastly, Paine has an obsession with the virulent and toxic nature of some plants, especially, fungi.  Coming to maturity in the hippie era, Paine experimented with many drugs. His artwork is a reflection of this.  He has sculptures of poppy fields and mushroom fields in abundance.

A field of mushrooms appears to grow from a plain white platform.

Amanita Muscaria Field, 2000

His dedication to these plants is fascinating.  To me, it is like he is stripping away their power by constantly manufacturing harmless versions of them.  He is facing his fear of that which use to control his life.  Therein lies a lesson for all of us, a silent reminder to confront and conquer your fears before they consume you.

I am fascinated by the life and work of Roxy Paine.  I connect with his work on a deeper level because I can see similarities between his philosophies and mine.  I only hope that my work can be as moving and inspiring as his in the future.