My life changed in February 2019. There is no turning back. All my beliefs changed as my experience showed life in its reality and whom god is to mankind. What tomorrow brings to you or me is unknown but something will happen and we are unaware until that force occurs. The most important lesson learned in February 2019 is love. God is love and nothing more. It doesn’t judge or criticize you or me. It doesn’t sit on a throne in heaven but can be found in the cells of all things whether living or not. So tomorrow pick a wildflower and look into its living force and when you peer know the divinity that you see. When you look at a stray dog or cat, know that you are watching the cells of god moving in our lives. Look at the truths surrounding you and leave behind any false dogmas. Know that heaven is not anything like earth and nothing resembles the stories that mankind has uttered for thousands of years. Nothing.
Thank you Jordan Maxwell for showing me the correct Hebrew interpretation
The warm air softly brushes the tops of trees
Moonlight soaks the lavender colors on walls
Shadows play a game on the palleted adobe
From the sidewalk someone stands whistling
Is this a dream or just an in between odd world
Are the images fighting or erotically dancing here
The whistling is the music of Ravel’s Bolero
The castanets click amorously as the men tap
I am amidst the passacaglia of Latin lovers
Hibiscus hang succulently from the window
The light of the moon touches the flowers
Odors from the Night Blooming Jasmine
Permeates the melodies and the sambas
Cats mewl keeping their lusts venomous
They’re part of the scene upon the walls
Displaying cat emotions and feline fickleness
Using the pillow coving my head dissonance
Go away that I should sleep in utter quietness
This is simply the imagination of a poetic soul
One who works by day selling the world
Silently by night becomes the explorer
Foreign exchange, queer happenstance
Hidden messages waiting within the bottles
So alluring, it seduces a heart of gypsies
By the fireside drinking red wine uncontrolled
The music fades as the embers die solemnly
The taps of men silence within the lights
The hibiscus odor no longer lingers on air
The cats sound no more as the moon hides
Shadows dissipate within the lights of sun rays
The alarm sounds so loudly my ears ache
Awake for morning has arrived at daybreak
The gypsies gone and their rhythmic castanets
Adjusting my tie for the eight o clock bell
No rest for the weary here
Living in hell O operator give me number 9
If he doesn’t answer then give me back my dime
Drifting weightlessly awhile dreaming lucidly seeing
Floating through halls of granite having huge columns
Touching cold stone walls filled with ancient lights
Knew momentarily, I was transported somewhere else
I studied the writings and carved pictures on the walls
Reading a story of humans caught within an earthen warp
But, here a palatial ruin, not foreboding, and oddly grand
Felt pleasure and comfort, felt familiarly, as if, I was home
The temple held temples, spirits ~ awaiting souls
A ride through the cosmos in order to find their own
And meanwhile awaiting the catalyst who transports
Watched myself drifting in this palatial mausoleum space
Recognizing old ~ old character beings, I’ve known
In another place for certain; however, this was our womb
Until the time of birthing thus taking flight combusting into life
Here we gathered, quietly awaiting, until our mother said
And this cold monumental temple is our place
I recognized the carvings and the silent grace
And one day, will return and unite with my family
A peaceful dream experienced, finding my haven
©2016 Bonnie jennings All Rights Reserved
Welcome To Winter Fairies and Return To The Forest
My poetry is dedicated to my family respectively: Jim, Babe, Carol, Elysia and Joel.
Also, I want to thank all of my poetry friends that I’ve made on FB. The list is so long of my FB friends and I just want to let them know that they are so appreciated…
Now, just a little note to you the readers. This is a long poetry story. It has to be lenghty as it tells a story about love that’s become volatile. Love ,that is abusive and perhaps dangerous, is Beauties struggle and “Beauty ” is a metaphor regarding the lives of domestic violence victims.
I’m most proud of Fairy Beauty who declares her win over The Evil Sh’man. I love her words to the audience, to herself and to him. She comes through as the ultimate victor in the case of domestic warfare.
Thank you for stopping by and reading the allegorical poems of Winter Fairies.
Oh and by the way, the word fairy or faerie have two different spellings and meanings. A fairy is good and kind and represents innocence while faeries are mischievous at times and are practical jokers and create havoc in their environment.
Evil Sh’man Speaks:
Hey! Come back here you Elfin Faerie!
Stop giggling, skipping and dancing, right now!
Caught again this time…
Feel the gripping of my grasp?
You Elfin mischief maker.
This time you’ll pay the price.
Last time… You’ve plucked my “C” chord.
Making sure of that…
Ha! You laugh, tease, taunt and twirl,
but now meshed between fingers of steel.
The last laugh; mine.
Little green Faerie neither sex surely known.
Doesn’t matter now
For between my fingers, thou art.
So, wiggly. So smart!
My eyes will not close!
The night approaches. Willing not thou clever plan.
I sleep not!
Sword drawn at my side.
Think Thou smart, do’est though?
Think ye shall wait?
Time your best ally?
Big green eyes look so sad.
Concerned for souls, are you?
Eyelashes ever so sweet and dimples warming pink cheeks.
One big tear begging release?
Ahhh…Turn Away! …
Eternal soul sucking fascination of Beauty’s green eyes.
AYE, Look away!!!
No gaze at she!!!
The promise of your love I shall not see.
The trigger’s trap catches not; me.
I DO NOT SEE!
Then Beauty Takes Her Leave as The Evil SH’man Sleeps:
Black night comes,
alone and cold.
Smart beauty sleeps warmed
By hands that fold.
In quietness the present enemy waits.
Beauty taunts not.
She need not…
For time be her friend.
Coldness aligns her side
And loneliness sang lullabies to her;
“sleep child sleep.”
The fight grows small.
Sleeps on the horizon; it calls.
Hearing distance voices my eyes rest.
The hills and a mountain melody lays sleeps fog.
Can you hear it, as well?
“Gently gently, sleep.”
Beauty crawls from fingers once tight.
Not to awaken the captures soul…
She’s played before..
However it’d grown old.
She plays well.
A champion for sure.
“Awaken not my game.”
“Comes tomorrow a fair shame is he.”
“Foe rest; later your dare…”
“Thought you had me?”
“You foolish sh’man.”
“Look! Who has who.”
“Thought you’d won?”
I’d not get away?”
Ah…Before Daylight shines…
“One last game..It affords me so…”
Whispers stories in midnight sleep.
You’ll think strange, “God’s” voice for certain.
Magical messages, images, songs and words;
“God’s!, not His at all…”
“Goody, goody for me.”
“One more time before nights end
Can bully jab my soul.”
“NOT!” Then; Beauty declares her win…
Her long fairy fingers reach for the harp.
The soul of her game?
To pluck his “F” sharp…
“Bold challenges,” said Beauty,
“HIS love I detest,
but, as He has made it,
I surrender my quest.”
Beauty, The King of Clubs, enter’s another battle with The King of Diamonds or The Evil Sh’man. One more round taking place in the courtroom of divorce.
The King’s Duel
The Final Question?
Can the deep insightful King of Clubs
raise the final victory
over the overachieving
king of Diamonds?
not a final nod.
Eyes glaring steel blue and hazel green
facial lines fixed
not even a twitch.
Slowly woven like the Earth to the Moon
moving like a dance
made a circlular pattern
on the floors of onyx black
The King of Diamonds
so sure of himself
believed no fight
from the Club herself,
But the Club held dear
the truth in her heart
The Lord Almighty
from the start.
Round and round
so slowly they moved.
The Diamond King’s lips
snarled a smirk
as he spit tw’ord ‘er shoes.
And the King of Clubs
shot darts of fire
her eyes told,
The one eyed King
dazzled with diamonds galore
But, The King of Clubs
kept her mind
on the chore.
Over and around
the blades slowly moved
then picked up the pace
without any shoes…
Cling, clang, ding and gwong
the blades met
rangling a song
“All shiny and strong,
the song of a Savior,
That life is a gift
given by Him
and though expect treasure
we don’t always win…”
The Kings welded
their swords in the air
cutting their skins
and toppling their hair.
nor whimpering came from the two
but fierce wellbred bickering
whipped whistled twang pue.
The blades never ceased
the clang of the strikes,
faster and harder
beaten the life
Of one Diamond King
and the other a Club
but The Savior stepped in
to straightened their thuds.
Now, it came to pass
that The Diamond King
tipped his hat,
and gave up his crown,
and that; was that.
And The King of Clubs
Surrendered her heart
at a cross
on a hill~
For the hill is where
all kings will bow
made not of fools…
but of heroes,
Those, i am’s, of Thou art.
Fairy Beauty was captured because she was on a quest to find the perfect person to love her. And, because of her innocence, kindness and inability to defend herself, she is captured by a man, who is not for her ultimate good well-being. On the road of searching for a god-like man, she was captured by a sociopathic man….
In the poem, the man in the forest she meets, is a god-like man whom she created in her mind. It was a man similar to what she felt her father was and perhaps he is her biological father on her god-like quest for a great man to love and marry her.
So now, for poem 3:
The Forest Man
Like a drug; I’m compelled.
An index finger points the way.
The path covered in vagueness.
Only trust leads my day.
The forest is my storybook.
Few paths I’ve known.
Some are smooth and uneventful.
Some are treacherously bare.
Once a lesson completes.
And a short respite occurs.
The forest fairies find me.
And, another adventure is assured.
My feet are weary from twists and stones.
Tripping along the way.
But nonetheless, the spirits find me.
And again, I’ve nothing to say,
Excuses are lame.
Whining creates more.
So, quietly I proceed.
Wandering, the magic roads of lore.
Passing through the brush.
Carrying my satchel of prayers.
Perhaps I’ll pass a man.
A man who relinquishes terrors.
And I’ll look for him in the forest.
There, pray he shall find me.
Illuminate, our eyes will sparkle.
Then, my spirit shall be set free.
Beauty does escape the evil sh’man; however, the road home is often filled with in trepidation as she is always looking over her shoulder watching and waiting for the reappearance of her captor. Her fears are at times delusional as she struggles with being tormented and falling back into his hands or similar hands. She knows that she is vulnerable because of her naivety.
Escaping and Returning to The Forest
Cold, cold, cold the morning; cold.
Coffee warms my hands.
Unraveling memories; seeming dull
Still night dreams, do unfold.
Low clouds covered the forest
Eyes that see not before us.
But, follow the pale path
Neath the weary feet.
See it! There! Underneath!
Wet leaves covered the way.
Then look closely if you may.
Sprinkled sparkling faerie dust
Shimmers neath the leaves.
And, if you follow the shining lights
Those sights shall take the lead.
Following the strath of twigs and weeds …
Growing near the path
The wetness of the leafy stuff
Still bares the night time mask…
Here, there, turns and twists
Mark a path which won’t resist.
All night long seeking an end.
Running, skipping and stumbling on shin.
Searched, knocked, and sought
Only not to find
Any faerie myths…
Oh, how my heart…
I tired of your game,
Running your path night long.
Then decided I,
Best to wander home.
And, vaguely remembering sanity
Since safety departed me,
Calling from the woods
It growled ferociously.
Sad and disturbed
Missed you again!
And, lowering my face,
Bares a fools return.
Hey, Look yonder!!!
There! My Mims!
To be greeted by their love!
The open arms of my kin.
My family who loves me dearly,
And they who prayed me home
Even despite myself. ,
Even despite myself.
Special thanks to my Late mother, Babe, my Skipper B, my Dear sister Carol, my daughter Elysia and my son Joel. They “who safely, yea, safely prayed me home that night.”
Beauty is still on her journey with the help of her family to find sanity so she continues to seek refuge at home once again. She is still running from the shadows, the bumps and bangs in the middle of the night or day. She shakes from fear whether real or imagined.
Trying to Find Home
“Awe,” the radiance; so bright.
Then, follow it, with all might.
The road course shall lead by day
Rocks, turns, stickers and curves
My prejudiced thoughts;
Lofty visions of you.
Fiery images deflect a golden hue.
Imagined you, bronzed, dazzling, and vein.
We danced; then came the rain.
Caught too long there.
Idol thoughts; so dear.
Washed away; with my tear.
My arms bound, and mouth sealed.
Woven. Hey! What’s the deal?
OH, My God! I’ve Been Caught!
The coven’s web intently taut!
The feast I am. His delight.
Oh, fairy friend! By the firelight!
Here I am!
Now the spiders home virtually unseen,
Vaguely tucks into that corner beam.
But, see the dim light, growing so bright?
A fairy severs the silk, so tight.
And, falling from the web of fright.
Still arms tangled by silk threads
Pushing out bracing the fall
The spider and the fairy brawl
Wham, Bam, to and fro, from the deathly fight they bow
Looking, whom’s, my fairy friend? Noticing it must be Joe.
Underneath the spider
Joe waves thumbs up, You’re alright!
Now run like hell! To the light!
Run away little bait!
For, the fate of the firefly might be too late…
By Bonnie Jennings 1/12/2010
While on the road to recovery of being a doormat personality, Beauty finds a new friend who comes to stay with her during the getting home and settled sate. And, it was then that Faerie Jo (JR’s) entered her life. It is true that Faerie Jo made Beauty laugh again; however, Faerie Jo had some deviant behaviors the Beauty was amused by. He made her laugh though she never experimented with his mischievous suggestions. But, Beauty does thank Faerie Jo for the recovery of smiles, amusement in life and deep hearted laughter she had lost while in the deep woods of fears.
Joe’s Seduction and Return to The Forest
lips of faerie red.
Failure to answer
You want to play!
I see in your eyes
By the way”
“At the end of the day
You’ve nothing to say?
Sing and dance with me.
By the time night comes
We’ll use the key.”
“The window thought closed
We’ll not use tonight
For as the sun sets
The door will shine bright.”
“And, just as before
When the Moon was full
You danced by the light of the fire.
And your life…not dull.”
“So come on Old Foe
I challenge you today
to come to the Forest
But, don’t forget to pray.”
Now Joe’s eyes
Her hair of red waves fell
Her waist little too.
Charming alluring daring
Joe seduced the weakening victim
O so sweet her voice
before Joe actually kicked-em.
“I can’t, I won’t !
Now, GO JOE!
far from me!
Out! You Elphin mischief-maker!
There! The window!
Now, LET Me BE !”
Pouty lips and bats of faerie lashes
A wink of Joe’s eyes
She extends her hand
“Come now, come nigh,
And do not say, good-bye.”
“My human friend
Please don’t cry.”
Joe’s fingers crossed
After her word
“You know you want to come.”
Joe’s clever tenderness heard.
Then their eyes met
Joes soul stronger by far
It reached out to point the way
To the forest
Weeping, sobbing and uttering,
For with you faerie
I SHALL NOT GO!.”
“You LIE, you CHEAT, You’ve NEVER TOLD the truth!
Away from me little demon!
For I a clever sleuth !”
“I found out your tricks
All slippery twists and turns.
You’ll not lead me to the forest
The fires there
Will not burn!”
Blink blink. Smile smile.
Joe’s gestures summoned otherwise
Lies, cheats, twists and turns?
“You know how you loved it?
“Hey, for now,
Why don’t we play?
Remember the time
Remember the day?”
“You chased me,
And I chased you
Around and about
And away we flew.”
“And, I gave you wings
So you could fly.
You wore them one day
And flew sky-high.”
Up and away
or top of the trees!
O, how you flew.
Then, crashed down on your knees.
You cried a little
Afraid to smash
But, I caught you.
Do you remember that?
By day we flew
through tops of trees.
At night we danced,
Howled while burned the fire
With the breeze.
The snow fell
white branches below
cold air on our faces
you didn’t say, no.
Confessing your fears,
Don’t make me fly!
Saying, Damn you fairies!
But, we took you so high.
But, once on top of forest trees,
cold air blew
threw majestic hair.
Then, smiles over took you.
You’d no more cares.
The human flew
Above The Earth,
And, safely returned
To the fires hue.
Tasting faerie brew
Though freezing; made warm.
Tasting our food,
Now, whats the harm?”
So, come now,
God of the sky.
Let us dance, cheer and sing
And, please, don’t lie.
For flying, your game fare
The faerie sort
So, stay if you must…
But, winter is coming
and near the first frost.
Kindling our fires
Don’t get lost.
The invite is yours.
Extends the Faerie hand
In Spring depart
From kindred land.
Think it over,
I’ll return once.
To ask you to play
to ask you to dance.
Quiet are you
Not so sure?
Your soul inside
And they judge you.
But, in Faerie land
All tiny feet
Wear the same tiny shoe.
“So, I’ll leave you this morning
To think for yourself.
I’ll return ONCE more.
When The Moon shall wane
Then, you should thin,
Follow the elf.
But, one more time
I ask you to follow
Before The Moon’s full light is gone.
Then, don’t dilly-dallow.
Joe moves to the window
Her faerie finger points up.
Then, her faerie wings take to flight.
But, before leaving from captives sight
Joe turns to wink
And salutes goodbye.
In the year 2011, Beauties mother dies and it is in her memory, that this poem was written. “Babe,” Beauties mother was life’s weaver of magic and good dreams. This poem is about Babe, who helped Beauty so many times. This poem is a thank you to Babe for her constant help in real life and beyond….
Autumn Weaving with Babe,
my weaver of dreams and magic 2011
Weave in and out skip two colors of dreams
Raise the level of forest green
now circle around the lights magic stream.
Yellows and oranges
Parfet and red
perfect strands of marbled threads
Dashing there yonder
up over Mars
bringing back a handful Stars
Wild horses charge
Black stallions at night
Taming the dragon with beacons of light
Casting them into fortune and fame
Causing the wind
Making it bend.
Lastly, there are many more in The Winter Fairy series of Poetry, but these are the most significant to the experiences of abuse. This poem is about the road of recovery. Victims have a tendency to repeat damaging relationships. So, in the recovery process, Beauty separates herself from any possibilities of dysfunctional relationships until she can learn to say, “No,” and she can recognize the “red flags” that charismatic abusers often present. Until that time comes, and maybe it won’t, Beauty rests, heals, and discovers her own needs for self love.
©2010 by Bojenn or Bonnie Gay Jennings or Bonnie Jennings
@Bonnie Gay Jennings, or Bonnie Jennings or Boondoggling with Bojenn
*Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Bonnie (Gay) Jennings, or Bojenn or Bonnie Jennings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All artwork is also the production and creation of Bonnie Jennings.
My email: Bonniegjennings@gmail.com
Thank you for reading. I pray you found insight.
God bless you.
Bonnie Jennings or Bojenn
The opening scene takes place in a grocery store parking lot in August where there are numerous vehicles parked and many people shopping. It wasn’t a chance meeting though it was meant to be brief and appear accidental. The setting is in a small city in The Bible Belt. It was an extroidinarily hot afternoon and there were no clouds in the sky. Three people greeted each other. Two knew each other previously, the young doctor and the informant, and the third person, his wife, was being introduced, even though, she was not invited, the doctor brought her. The doctor’s young children were with other family members as it had been planned, but not his wife.
The story dialogue begins with the young wife asking the female informant,
“Who are you and who are they? You have told my husband so much bullshit?”
The informant, double agent for whomever replied, “I don’t know, but can tell you sincerely, they are not lovely, nor are they kind.” She looked down in somber explanation and then looked up into the eyes of a questioning young wife.
The double agent stared at her. She said, “I didn’t seek your husband out; they did.” She further added, “Guard your children. Never let them out of your site.” She looked away into a distant stare. She remembered her own children’s disappearances twenty-two years ago, even though, they returned changed somewhat. She would never forget the horrors and memories that would never go away. Her children told of her about men who did terrible things. Such horrific details she could not bare to listen to them. Each child taken at different times and by different people. She reflected for a moment about her own childhood and those men cloaked in black hoods and were taller than anyone she had ever seen. Their faces had been hidden from her, but she didn’t want to see. She hid under the covers on many cold nights.
The doctor’s wife said frantically, “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”
The female agent hesitated before she responded as she thought. It wasn’t that she was withholding information from the insisting young wife. No, but she was truly unsure of who she was or is to “them,” or anyone. “I am not sure of who I am, or why, or how I came into their services not by choice.”
“That makes no sense! What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know something? You’re lying.” The young wife was trembling as she was angry, frightened, and determined to understand the craziness of what she had just heard. “And, what do you mean when you say, guard my children? Are you threatening our family?”
The atmosphere was somber. The electricity of the moments before fell when the informant raised her hands and gently moved them slowly up and down from over head to lower than her hips settling and calming the air. The young wife at first thought the informant was aggressively posturing, but a few seconds later realized the movement was certainly not generated to cause any physical harm.
The female informant said, “I’m not here to harm you. I don’t have any hardcore answers. I’ve searched for those answers all my life. I can only tell you the little that I know. But, we must find a safe place. A place underground and protected. We’re being tracked. They must not see that we connected. And, I hope it’s not too late.”
The young doctor of medicine spoke up. He had been silent because he was as confused as his wife. “Where do you suggest that we meet?”
The informant said, “Go to your office Monday and work just like any other day.” Then, to the young wife she advised the same. “I will arrange the place and the connection.” She told the doctor, “I will call for an appointment and will tell you then the particulars, but know your office is not safe. They will track and listen to us. You can not write a note to me there in my presence or speak of this. Understand? You will not call me and I won’t call you unless it’s for an appointment.”
He nodded yes.
The informant said, “We must break this meeting up, now.”
“He said, “Will this be soon?”
“Not sure. It could be awhile. We have to leave some gaps in time. They’re tracking us even now,” she responded quietly.
The young doctor’s wife said, “This is crazy.”
The informant nodded in agreement. “I’m going now.” She gets in her old white 2005 Honda Accord and starts the engine. She opens the car window on her way out and says loudly to the young doctor’s wife, as to be heard, “It was so nice to meet you.” She drove out of the parking lot.
The female informant takes the little amount of cash from her piggy bank, she takes the money and speeds of to The closes discount store. At the back of the store she purchases three cell phones. One for the doctors wife, one for the doctor and one for herself and places them in bubble wrap in a large envelope. She puts only the doctors name on it and tightly licks the glue on the envelope and presses it tightly. She also included the instruction for the cell use to each other only. Use it as little a possible. All regular medical calls were to be by appointment and by going through the secretary, just like normal. She left the store and drove to pick up her grandson who is getting out of summer day camp. The boy is ten.
“Grandma, where are we going?” This wasn’t their usual way to go home and he had friends to play with so he was in a hurry. “Why are we going this way?”
“No worries. We have to drop off papers at the doctors office.” She pulled up in front of the front door drive. She handed the boy the envelope and said, “Tell the receptionist this is for him and open as soon as he can” So, the boy did just what he was told.
“Now can we go?” He was whiny and put out that he was delayed as he got into the car.
“What did the receptions say? Did you her that the doctor was waiting for her records and they were important?” The female informant asked her grandchild.
“They were nice and said, “Who sent it? And, I told them, you did and you said it was important.” The kid was sighing as he had things to do. “Can we go now?”
She, the female informant smiled at the boy and drove away wondering how soon the phones would be delivered and will he open the package then, and would the secretary loudly announce who brought them? She ruminated about this. Should she call him to be certain he got the?
The receptionist hand delivered the packages to the doctor when he was sitting in his office. He said, “What’s this?”
The receptionist said, “Oh Mrs. Smith, you know the kind of crazy one, said you were expecting these.” She smiled as she stood in the door waiting and watching him open the notes as she was told by the boy. “I sure hope her grandchild won’t be that looney.”
The doctor stopped opening the package and said, “That’s okay. I’ll open the latter. We have work to do.” He arose and put the envelope on his chair and scooted it under the desk. He shut the door behind him as it automatically locked. He then took the envelope and carefully opened it and looked at the two phones. Man, she’s serious about this craziness. He put them in his briefcase and the note in his shirt pocket.
Later he made his first call to the informant. He was alone in his car and he soon pulled over on the side of a dark road hidden under trees where it was safe. He called the informant.
“I thought you said this would happen later? What’s going on?” The doctor’s voice was hostile, angry, but on the other hand ~ He called her.
“Glad you called so quickly. We have work to do.” The informant was short and to the point. She walked outside away from her home just in case her voice was transmittable from inside her home. She took a leisure walk as far as she could and stopped.
“What do I have to do with your delusions?” Firmly, he insisted an answer. “Leave my family out of your charades, you understand me!”
“Trust me, your family is in danger, doctor.” The informant bounced back at him. “Your wife shouldn’t have come Sunday, so why did you bring her?”
The doctor was silent, then he said, “Because, in case you were hitting on me, then she would see and intercept this bizarre fabrication. I should have you arrested for stalking.”
“So, why don’t you?” She was silent.
“I’m not sure.” He paused, “Perhaps, I’m interested in your tales of cloak and daggers, your mysteries of God knows what.”
The informant listened, “Go on. Any more , hmm?
“You talk. Your turn. Explain your business.” The doctor fell quiet. “And, to add, the phones. A little over the top, for a twisted sorted game, I’d say.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Did you see the laboratory notes in the envelope?”
“No.” He responded.
“I put two reports from my distant past and one of a recent test. Both under the name of Mrs. Smith.”
“Okay. Tests of what kind?” He reached for the envelope on the car seat next to him and opened it.
“Lab tests with my DNA. You will notice that both tests have 1% Neanderthal and the old test has 2% unknown DNA and the latest has 3.5% unknown.” The informant waits for him to answer.
“Wait a minute let me look.” He ruffles with the pages. “You know DNA is not my expertise.”
“Just look.” She shot back quickly.
“Yes, I see, but still I don’t know what this means, I don’t do DNA.” He’s disconcerted with her for insisting him involuntarily into matters he is unlearned.
She sighed having her own frustrations with his lack of concern or understanding.
“What do these reports have to do with me? I ask you again. Stop with the vagueness.” He insisted.
She thought, “I want you to have labs drawn on me again, then on your self.”
“What? That’s absurd. Why should I carry on with your delusional mystery?” He continued to look at the lab reports and her DNA. He recognized the lab values were not matching and are increasing and thought, why? “Why do I have to test mine? Why am I relevant to your search?”
“I will be in this week and you will draw labs on me under the name of Mrs. Smith, right?” She restated her request.
“Yes, come into the office Wednesday noon. No one but the staff will be around. I’ll just tell them it’s for labs that had to be drawn at noon. But, mine… not sure.” He gave clear instructions to the informant and took control of her craziness.
“Okay, Wednesday at noon, I’ll be there, but if my labs are remarkable then you will draw yours?” She took control again.
“Okay. Deal. But, what does your DNA have to do with mine? We’re not related.” He hesitated, “Are we?”
“Well, yes, in away we are.” She said, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
They hung up and she walked back to her house. It started to thunder. Rain was coming soon.
He was busy the early part of the week. The young doctor didn’t have time to think about the strange phone cal except the last words the crazy Mrs. Smith, the odd informant said, “Well, yes, in away we are.” And, this bothered him. These words got under his skin. What exactly did she mean?
“Hello Mrs. Smith.” The young doctor unlocked the door to the clinic. “Come on back.”
The informant Mrs. Smith was directed to the phlebotomy room. “Our phlebotomist is on her lunch break so if you’ll allow me to do it, then I’ll have it done in no time.” He was friendly and spoke loudly so the staff could hear him and think nothing about a noon lab draw. After all, the doors were shut at exactly noon. He had all the vials, the tourniquet, the needles and the centrifuge ready. “May I get you a coke or coffee?”
“A coke would be good. Thank you,” She responded.
“Before you drink the coke,” after he handed it to her, “Let me swab your mouth for DNA. We’ll do it every way we can to get comparisons. Okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” She seemed glum and was quiet, but decided chit chat would be best in case she was tracked into his office and was being listened to. “How has your week been?”
The doctor, nodded his head, “Here make a fist” as he had placed the tourniquet on her upper arm, “The week has been quite unusual. The office has been busy as all get out.”
She smiled. “Unusual?”
“Oh, nothing too crazy.” He chuckled under his breath.
“I see sarcasm, doctor.” She sighed. “I hope everything is back to your normal routine?”
“Absolutely. Things couldn’t be better.” He cut it short. He was beginning to sweat. He blew a vein. “Dam-it. I have to use the other arm.”
“Dam-it? Do you always talk this way around clients?” She acted upset. “Calm down. I don’t have all day. I have to go back to work soon.”
He shut up and put the tourniquet tightly on the left arm. “That should do it.” He was successful and unsnapped the cord. “There you go. Finished. The labs will be sent out after lunch.” He escorted her to the door and opened for her. “I’ll call you with the results, Mrs. Smith.”
“Make me copies. I will pick them up.” She turned quickly not to show any familiar behavior in case they were being watched. Off she went in the old white Honda.
The doctor walked into the office and sat down at the computer. He added a drug screen and a BAC to the labs. This way he would no if the woman was drunk, on drugs and her DNA which he was now curious of.
He wanted to ask Mrs. Smith for her real name, but thought about the fact that having too much information was irrelevant and would involve him even farther than he wanted. Nope, he answered his curiosity.
Two weeks passed by and he had not thought about the labs or Mrs. Smith. After all, he was a busy doctor with many patients and his wife surely would have him involved in more social activities than he wanted. So, the thoughts of those two dilemmas were simply dismissed.
Mrs. Smith, the female informant, laid low and never once called him on the cell phones or contacted his office. However, she ruminated about the findings and wondered why he had not contacted her about the results. She bit her nails and chewed them off, but she was silently waiting.
Another Wednesday two point five days later:
The fax machine was shooting out labs as it usually did at any doctors office. The lab tech took them off the machine and delivered the results to the prospective doctors. She put values into the young doctors box on the outside of his door where he would see them and read them. He did just that and noticed in the pile of fifteen or more pages the name Mrs. Smith. She had several of the fifteen pages. He closed the door behind him and sat to look them over. The first one was the drug screen. It was negative of any substance then he looked at the BAC. No alcohol present in her blood system. “Damn she’s clean a a whistle.” He flipped through to the DNA results. And sure enough the swab of the oral mucosa results were conclusive to the last results she had. 3.5% Unknown and 1% Neanderthal, he whispered to hime self. He didn’t know any DNA specialists, he didn’t know what this meant.
“Amy,” he yelled.
“Yes, doctor.” Amy poked into his office.
“Find a local DNA or Genetic engineer, doctor or someone I can send a DNA consult out to.” The doctor ordered right now and Amy got right on it…
She called around and found a Doctor not far away. She wrote his number and address down and took it into the young doctor.
He placed a call and was able to get through to the doctor when he identified himself as a doctor.
“Doctor DNA, this is the young doctor, and I wanted to ask about normal and abnormal DNA percentages. Could you tell me if 3.5% is unusual in oral mucosa for a normal human level?
Could you tell me where I can look such information up? A reference perhaps?” The young doctor asked collegiately.
The elder doctor replied after he cleared his throat, “You say 3.5% doctor?”
“Yes, that’s right, 3.5%.” The young doctor clarified.
“That can’t be right. test again. The lab is wrong. Can’t be.” And he was certain in the tone of his voice, the young doctor was mistaken.
“No, this is the second recent result. They are the same from two different labs.” There was a silence between the two men and the fund doctor said, “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, anyway.”
“Yes, he added those two results are wrong. Your patient would not be human, sir. Well, good day, call again if you need me.” The elder doctor thought the question was odd and the response that two different tests from two different labs verified the same 3.5% values and this was more than interesting, indeed. He wished he had gotten the young doctors number, but he didn’t. He asked his secretary, but she had gone for the day, as usual.
The young doctor hung up and wished he hadn’t called the consulted doctor. But, he waited for the staff to leave saying good bye then he attempted to draw his own labs as he promised. Finally after stabbing himself three times was able to get them, four vials, in an upside down manner on the arm. He put them in the refrigerator and with a label the lab staff told him, after an inquiring call, for a miscellaneous practice draw. No charges, no questions, just a practice. He made two copies for the informant as he promised. He put them in the brief case, and sped off to the tree area on the side of the road where he could call her. Meanwhile, his wife called and asked why he was late?
“You forgot we had a diner party tonight? You’re late.” She demanded that he answer and she demonstrated her anger of missing such an event.
“Sorry, working late and I’ll be thirty more minutes. Go on without me.” He was sweet to her placating her for now.
He pulled the car over under the trees off the side of the road. There was no one around. He made his call on the cell phone the female informant, Mrs. Smith provided.
The phone rang several times. He did not leave a message. The messages had not been set up. Mrs. Smith thought that would be best, no messages to be traced. He began to drive home and when he arrived the house was empty. His children were staying with his inlays for the night. He didn’t feel like attending a dinner party so instead he poured a Jack on the rocks. He sat in a comfortable slouchy chair in the dark and thought of what the labs meant to him. What did Mrs. Smith mean when she said they are related?
His private cell from Mrs. Smith rang. It was her. He answered quietly. “Hello.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call, well? Any results?” She jumped into the labs without any surface conversation.
“Yes, I have them. And, your two copies.” He shot back at her.
“Well, what do they say? Did you make me copies?” She was eager to hear the results that she was certain concrete as she thought.
“They are conclusive to your other labs. 3.5% unknown in oral mucosa.” He paused.
“I want the copies. Where can I meet you?” She hurried not wanting to miss the results or to allow time to prevent her from getting them.
“Not tonight. I’m too tired. Come to the secretaries in the morning. They will be there.” He again took control as that was his nature.
“No, not at your office. Bump into me tomorrow at the store just like in August at Mid-day. We can greet and pass the envelope like everything is normal.” She was in control.
“Okay, but meet me at 2pm. I have meetings until then. Oh, my wife has come home. Got to go.” He hung up the cell and put it in the brief case.
“Hello honey. Why didn’t you come. Everyone waited for you.” She was tall and red headed like Maureen O’ Hara and fiesta like her, as well.
“Too busy. I just got home.” He swirled the bourbon in the glass.
“Well, you should have called to let us know to eat without you. Is that bourbon? Are you drinking alone in the dark? That bad, huh?”She could interrogate with her lean body and red hair better than an FBI agent. “What could be so imperative to a family care doctor?”
He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic put-down of being only, in his mind, a family care doctor? Geez, what does a man have to do to get recognition and respect? Damn her.
Early the next day he got a call on the private cell. He was on his way to work and alone driving in the rain.
The informant female says, “It’s not a good idea to meet you at 2pm. Is there any way you could meet me now? Do you have the labs reports with you?”
“I have them with me. I’m close to work and have only a few extra minutes. Where?” He responded quickly.
“Park your car at the grocery and walk to the post office. Go through their backdoor. I’ll walk there and be there in ten minuets.” She hung up.
He was early that morning with thirty minutes to spare. So, this plan of hers would work. Driving the car to the grocery and parking it he then got out and walked as if he were going into the store, but he walked the sidewalk to the post office where the most office boxes were and walked out the back door. She was standing there in the rain.
“Well, come inside, out of the rain.” He insisted.
“Just let me have the results.” She put her hand out and he gave her the labs reports.
“If you have any questions call me later. I gotta go,” he said. There were people starting to come in and he felt unusually uncomfortable to the beautiful grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith. “What’s your real name by the way?”
She didn’t smile. “It’s not a game doctor. This is not a flirtatious meeting or coincidental rendezvous, understand?”
The young doctor had to check his emotions. She was right, he was feeling like this was a scandalous rendezvous and he was rather enjoying himself. He forgot this was a bazaar story about wild DNA and a weird woman. The mysterious excitement was taking him into a fantasy of types.
“You’ll need to watch your pheromones, doctor. This is serious. By the way, did you draw your labs?” She raised a doubting eyebrow at him.
“Yes, yes I did.” He retorted. People were coming into the post office. It was 8:05am. “I got to go. Late now. When my labs come in, I’ll call you.” He left in the rain from the front door and followed his path to the store and then his car. As far as he knew, no one saw him. He felt sneaky and ashamed for feeling flirtatious, for enjoying a life of increased adrenalin. He never felt that way before…
The young doctor went about his work and social functions and left the flirtatious misinterpretations behind. After all, Mrs. Smith was a grandmother and not a normal stereotypical woman who would be considered as a rendezvous for a primary care physician. So, he carried on as usual.
The grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith was about the business as usual, too. Only hers were menial and mundane while in the office. However, after 5pm, it was the usual adrenalin rush she had experienced since she was a child. Once in a while they would visit her at night. The clock usually said 3am or close. They were not consistently on time, but they gave a few minutes on either side of 3. However, she was older now and their visitation numbers and times to visit were fewer, thank God. She did believe in God or a supreme power. She had to believe because something always saved her from their grip.
It was for the reason of monetary purpose that the informant did astrological forecast for extra money and for the fact she loved astrology. She finished a woman’s chart who lived in Oregon and noticed intently that this woman had similar coordinates as herself. It was later in central time as Oregon so she called the woman for clarification. The phone rang and the woman picked up.
“Hello,” she said.
“Yes, hello,” the informant had a Southern drawl from being and living in The Bible Belt for so long. “This is Lottie the astrologer and I need to clarify your information, is now a good time?”
“Oh yes! Now is great.” The woman answered.
There are unusual themes in your astrological readings and I need to verify your birthdate and time of birth Is it 1952? And, were you born at 7:58Am in Portland, Oregon?” Lottie asked.
“Yes, that is correct.” The woman replied.
“Okay, good. So, I want to explain that in 1952, October 10th, The Constellation Ophiochus was arising in the Eastern sky. This is rare to occur and we know the zodiac has 12 houses, but in your case 13… Lottie waits for a response.
“Very insightful,” the woman replies. “Do go into more of this. I’ve never heard of a 13th house in The Zodiac.”
“Sagittarius is in the twelfth house and is also your ascendant and it is also sitting near the constellation Ophiochus or Asclepius . This would say you are a strong believer in a force much greater than most other men. Your Chiron is also near the ascendant and close to the constellation Asclepius and would indicate you are a healer. Are you a health employee?”
“Yes. I am a nurse.” The woman proudly answered.
“That would explain Ophiochus/Asclepius in your chart on the horizon at the time of your birth,” Lottie explained.
“I’m not aware of that name or custom.” The nurse responded.
“I’ll send it as a text. Look it up. The myth goes like this. The constellation on the horizon at the time of your birth would be in the eastern sky. Asclepius was then coming up or arisen. You could then, identify with the constellation as your birth home if you thought that we are all star children and connected spiritually. It is reported that Ophiochus/Asclepius is your DNA home or where your descendants came. You are from that Constellation and nearest star to you at the time of birth would be the home of the star that your family came. That is where your spirit came from, if you believed that’s a possibility and wanted to know more, there are references to this information.”
The woman closed down. She was somewhat shocked and refuting the ideas. “Oh, that’s silliness,” she responded and laughed. “That’s not feasible. No, can’t go there. I’m Christian and star children and aliens are not anything that I take any part of. Astrology is just fun. That’s why I did this reading with you. Can’t do the other.”
Lottie shut down, also. “Well, if you need me for future reading please contact me. You now have my number. She realized that she wasn’t going there and wasn’t interested. Perhaps frightened by the idea that we came from alien life forms.
“Well, good night Lottie,” she said her goodbyes.
“Goodnight.” And, Lottie hung up disappointed because the woman was clueless. She saw no reason to forward the woman any further any information.
Lottie, Mrs. Smith or the female informant sat on the couch thinking about the phone call with the woman in Portland. Recollecting their conversation it provoked dismay and anger because the woman said that her astrological read was indeed, “A joke between Christian friends who chose the same birthday and decided together to do a test. They would send the same birth information to three of four astrologers to see if they all came up with the same natal horoscope.”
Lottie had explained to the woman, “I don’t use computer generated charts and interpretations. My interpretations are original and I personally sift through the data the information provided.”
This didn’t impress the woman in Portland. The woman was certain that all of the reports were simply conjured from “a demon.”
Lottie was disappointed, but she went on and gave it any more thoughts.
The thunder came again. Lottie lost power in her home. She lit candles. It was soon to be her birthday. She too was from Asclepius. It was on the eastern horizon at the time of her birth.
She thought about the doctor and his birthday. “Could his birthday say the same. How could I get his birth information without seeming bizarre? After all, the doctor was living in The Bible Belt and he may hold the same belief system as the woman in Portland? Well, he already thinks I’m bizarre enough. It can’t hurt anymore to ask.”
The thunder boomed overhead. It shook the house. I hate nights like this.
Lottie hated nights like this one because they, whomever they are, would sometimes pay her a visit and since she was on a quest to find information and other human victims were more than likely angry with her. For these reasons she feared they would come, Lottie expected them soon, possibly tonight. There was no absolute telling about their arrival except it would be between 2 and 3AM.
Lotto’s adrenalin was high. She felt it rising. She had to work in the morning and knew with her norepinephrine this high, sleep would be hard to fall into. She took a Xanax and used the dose by a half.
She marveled at the coincidence of having an appointment with the young doctor. The previous doctor moved out of town and for this reason she was absorbed into the new young doctors patient list. The first appointment two years prior she had with him was normal, and without any odd or strange feelings. He was a doctor and there was no signs or odd occurrences that pointed to any connections with him. Lottie thought about the first time she had an eyebrow raising experience with him.
It was when she had her second appointment to see him. He neared her to listen to her chest, suddenly a vibrational shock happened, they both felt and jumped. They blamed it on static electricity. However, Lottie saw it differently, but she drew no conclusions or conjured anything from her imagination. But he had something else that captivated her. His eyes. They were blue and sometimes green and the pupils changed rapidly. The way he glanced at her for a split second, his pupils and her own met. It was hard to explain to a normal person. It was not flirtatious or romantic by any means. No, it was like two railcars latching together conjoining to become one. Clink. She felt it. They matched. Another piece of the puzzle had been found. Lottie was certain that the young doctor was the one. Could his birth have the same coordinates as hers and since he was a doctor would certainly be interesting to investigate. If he was also born with Ophiochus on the horizon than this could only mean that he is the link, the one person who would help her. After all, he would be helping himself and his children. Asclepius would be his origins. The Serpent Bearer, the healer.
She knew she was imaginative and had to check on occasion, if things were real, or psychotic. Not once had she been diagnosed with psychosis, but when psychologist and doctors examined her, they simply said, “It’s in your imagination. You’re quite creative, aren’t you?”
She had to agree with them on the creative description. That is a fact. She was imaginative, but high levels of norepinephrine could usher epinephrine synergistically. Her mind was going that night, all of the what if’s, could be this or that, and so forth, had her in a whirlwind. The Xanax Thank God was kicking in… Her mind began to slow down and she went to her bedroom, took her clothes off, laid in bed and drifted off to the land of no thoughts or adrenalin. She loved that place.
The thundered rolled all night. Though it was now distant, it still reverberated the small house.
Lottie slept soundly, snoring in and out with the cool breeze of October. Her windows had opened and she was not startled, nor moved. Sleeping as soundly as one could, she had no cares. No lights were on and only shadows from the lightening and trees danced on her walls. This never frightened Lottie as she was use to terrifying images and these were natural and she hadn’t a care about how they played out violent themes on her walls or had ghost faces appearing in the mirages of shadows. The images carried on as she slept undisturbed.
Standing tall, hidden in the corner an entity stood, watching her. No facial expressions it had and time was of no concern by the looks of the thing. Its finger arose from its side cloaked in a black robe and it pointed at the clock. Time stopped then as she slept.
Bright lights everywhere. Not Earthly, by any means, they illuminated the cold metallic room, as she laid on a slate slab. Cold with vapor rising, humidifying the room, Lottie opened her eyes. She knew this place all too well, it was a place of torture and a place of hell. She screamed, “NO!” Paralyzed without restraints, as usual, and her mouth muzzled by invisible sources, her screams were not heard by anyone or anything. She hoped God heard her and would send angels to free her. Eyes were wide open, breathing in and out through her nose, she looked around as far as her peripheral vision could go, she felt movement, and from ten feet or more she saw shadows.
This time there were no instruments used on her body, no sounds that broke her ear drums, there was filling the space of tall figures of whom she saw no faces. They surrounded the slate slab where she laid, and permeated her body with mental messages. Threatening her to stop her investigations, to stop visits with the doctor. They showed her the room next to her as the walls separating vanished and in the next room were two children. The children of the doctors, lay.
Sometimes God Whispers, and sometimes He is silent.
Silence is golden it’s been said.
When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.
So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”
It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.
I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.
I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.
“When the Lord brought back the captives of Zion, we were like men who dreamed.”
My lessons in learning. “They labelled me a witch that day and I cried. Sadly, had it of been in the 1600’s or there about, they would have burned me at the stake.”
Dreaming and being apart by choice from the one who loves unconditionally in the rotten state of purification, he restores to His vine a fruit with fragrant blossoms.
What have I learned while sojourning the dead?
Most men are dead though they believe they live and life is found in belief and relationship to the creator. There is no life separate from him and he does not condemn. The serving of “other gods” are my wondering thoughts that do not allow His enlightenment. For in every topic on earth, God is. And, He is knowledgeable about everything including the forbidden subjects. He still teaches me and I am grateful.
The only judgement is that of ourselves and non other, unless of course, I’ve worn their shoes for a lifetime. Judgement arises from fear of that which is not understood.
Stairway To Heaven Led Zeppelin
A fine day, indeed, shall I skip through the trees,
Into a meadow so green, and
There, shall I fall upon my knees, and give thanks,
To my Lord in prayer…
The sky will be fair and the flowers so bonny
The place will be heaven it seems
Across the way, shall I see you that day
Will we meet? God’s will, if he may…
* Note: Tornados were close by my home and together we snuggled sat, my 5 animals and I, in a dark closet we waited until the storms passed, so later I wrote this…
By Bonnie Jennings
The storm threw bolts of illuminated swirling wind
On the horizons of East and of West
The rolling vibrations shook my heart of fainting
Amidst the closet of our hiding of fears and trembling
The weather fell calm and out of the thunder
On the place where I do slumber
Oh, the desire for comfort and embrace
Of the tender human like Christ
Of His mercies and His grace
To touch him for’ He coddled me
While in anguish and in longing distress.
Seeming to sleep, resting quietly, you think.
She’s traveling miles from home, over the mountain tops.
The flying vehicle stops and he said, “Get in.”
“There’s no, time to waist. So, buckle up.”
He pulls the seatbelt through, then, passed the clouds, and away they flew.
“See!” She pointed, all around about.
“Celestial galaxies everywhere,” she whispered, “not, even, yet imagined.”
There, hidden in space, beyond our thoughts
A veil of stars protecting, the place of her death.
He showed her one heaven.
There were so many.
“This one is yours for now
There will be plenty.”
He took her to rest, as if, he loved her.
“The Lilies, so lovely,” she thanked him kindly.
Holding her weight with his arms,
He kissed her brow and said,
“Its time to take you home.”
At three Am, she sat up in bed.
“Oh, just a dream,” she spoke, “but so real.”
The fever was gone and the headache too,
And the golden man’s memory vaguely haunted her new heavenly view.
It being the end of a another year, thus, I sent out to my god and my angels, a prayer. That is: I need change and a new directional path, and I need it, now. “Post haste,” as daddy use to say. So, having said this to a dear friend, who is also a warrior on the phone last night, and then, going to sleep soon, thereafter, was awakened, before 3 am. I had a series of nightmares.
There in the middle of the fury of dreams, I found my peace. My sister was with me to help me escape, as she always has, in our lives together.There, in the middle of of the nightmare, being raped and sought after by many men and devilish souls, I panted in fear. But we, my sister and I, locked, bolted and hammered all doors shut. However, I couldn’t escape from their war, except one way. I disconnected. I found within me the place of peace and in that place the outer world fades away and there I am safe from any harm. Though, i can not take anyone with me, I leave my sister warrior behind fighting for me. And, in that place, the hell on Earth and memories of it, dissipate. My sister is left to do the battling alone. She chooses to do this for me. I want to take her with me; however, she may not enter. She must find this place on her own just as every human soul must find it alone. Perhaps she knows about this quiet place amidst the beautiful scenery of anything desired. Maybe she is showing me the way. I don’t know her way, I only know my own.
You see, I found this place many years ago. I was 16 years old. I am 62 now. In that place I heard a friendly kind voice. I have heard the voice many times before. It gave me a message. He, the voice was male. He said. “write, from your heart. Write the truth and do not cover it up or make flowery excuses. Just simply write about, what you know, as truth. Don’t skip or jump around your truths, your path, your beginnings. Tell them about the other world. Tell others how to find it when in the middle of storms. Write it all down. This is what you’re called to teach.”
Now, I really didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm and comfortable. And, I didn’t want to write about sadness and hardships. No, truthfully, it was before 3 am and I wanted to go back to bed and sleep peacefully.
“Now, get up and start writing what you’ve learned.” He said. This is your beginning of 2015.
I said, “all right, I will write only my truth, but the outer world is so painful.”
He nodded, in agreement, that the outer plane, which hovers Earth, is tortuous, grievous, grey, bleak, often harmful and lastly, painful for many and is not the place called heaven. “Help others and yourself to find this place. You have been there, and know the way. Teach it. It is easier to make jokes. Laughter hides pain and sorrow.It is in pain and sorrow that one becomes purified.” He smiled gently.
And so, I agreed to start writing my notes.
Though, they, my memories, will be discombobulated, they are my experiences. Finding Elysium, finding heaven on Earth, is not impossible. This is my 2015 plan sent by a messenger dressed in beautiful gauze and had a long beard of silver and snow and eyes as alive as the rapids in a northern river… This is what he told me to do. Having written the reasons of why I must tell my journey must say, I do not want to write this. I don’t want to visit my past, I do not want to blame, point fingers, to shame or harm anyone. For these reasons, I am reluctant to tell my story.
This reluctance is because the human race must point a finger at the causes of imperfections and tainted unlovely lives. Truthfully, the blame is circular. It never ends, but will find it’s origin in the story of the fall of mankind in The Garden of Eden. And, this is the truth, even if, you declare, it’s not your truth, it is. The fall of man was the beginning of pain and torture for the human/hybrid species. We were made in the image of god. We were created by fallen angels (The Nephilim) and god made a new way for us. Mankind excepted the dragons of fire, and there is no other argument. Done! There in the garden is found the reasons why mankind will never reach Narnia, Elysium, or Heaven, on his own.
I am not writing about the redemption story, though it is important. It only serves to receive the blame. If a reason why is to be asked, then, cast a blame on Eden with an imperfect finger of human judgement. The finger that’s pointing doesn’t recognize its own blemishes, sins and mistakes. It only see’s flaws in the “fruits” of others. How many times have I heard or read, “we can’t judge, but we can be fruit inspectors.” So, this statement stands alone, and is why, we will not reach Narnia.
Now, I’m dragging my feet. I don’t want to begin with my story. I’m afraid. The fears are from this Earth and have nothing to do with god, but mankind is harsh. Mankind is a ferocious judge. But on the other hand, who cares? Do I? Yes, bottom line, I care what others think or believe of me. I care about my reputation and the legend of my family. I care to uphold their name and honor. I care about them. I said, blaming is circular and goes back to The Garden of Eden, and it does. So, the sins of my ancestors continues and my children will point their finger at me, and tell of my sins and imperfections. But, I would be the first to admit, that I have failed horribly, as a mother. I have not loved unconditionally. I have put myself before my children, yet, I believe that I would die for them.
But, dying is much easier than living for them, isn’t it? After all, dying is escaping the tortures of living day in and day out. Excepting nighttime, thunder, lightening, hail, ice and temperatures too hot or too cold, are much harder, than taking the last breath into freedom. Wouldn’t you say? Perhaps, I am, blaming The Fall in The Garden of Eden, as well. But, this life is filled with spots, stains and imperfections are all around us.
No one escapes. It is here, at this point in my story, that I must be say, there are some who strongly declare, this doesn’t pertain to me. I am flawless. I do no wrong. I have a perfect past and a white picket fence, now, that surrounds my life. I would say to you, then, you already live in Narnia or Elysium and this story isn’t about you. My suggestion is to go on with your life, as it is, and don’t peer inside mine as the dragons assigned to me might become your own. Or perhaps, you’ve never actually met your demons. Because if you’re a member of the human race, then, at birth you had entities leading you away from The Garden. And, if you haven’t met the devils or been led far from the gates of The Garden, then, continue onward. Proceed on your path of doorknob hanging. Do not wander far away from the handle. But, hang on for your dear life and be thankful that you, know better. Or do you, I ask.. But on the other hand ~ playing The Devil’s Advocate ~ must tell you, find your war. Overcome it. Learn everything god wants you to know, so that, you will become a mighty valiant warrior. And having boldly said this, know that warriors die in many battles. Only to rise, again and again. Learning, along the way, the mistakes of war and the casualties of other’s lives, that we may have damaged, aware or not, these mistakes must be reconciled before continuing on in our wonderful journey called living. In some small way, if not, huge, our unintentional mistakes, completed along our way, may have destroyed someone else. In rectifying our mishaps, we become stronger and the next crisis, war or battle, which will come again, guaranteed, we will be stronger, more courageous than ever were before… And, then, perhaps, another warrior will be encouraged, while healing, from a battle of their own, and there on that battlefield we can lend our grace because grace was generously handed to us…
This is a good lesson, and I know god chooses the weak, to make them strong. He chooses the lame, deaf and dumb to confound the wise, he uses fearful men to make giant soldier’s, He uses our human frailties to make us his own. So, those who hang onto the doorknob of heaven, may I challenge you to jump into the fight. It is the fight, war, battle for your previous generations and those who succeed you throughout eternity.
Now, after skirting and dancing around my own story, I will to begin…. My heart races. Here I must deep breath and begin… Some of you might be asking me, what gives you the rights to say these things? The answer will be found in my story. Another question maybe, do you think of yourself better than the rest of us? And, truthfully, I tell you no, I don’t. Next question, then why should I read on? This is your decision, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.
The only answer right now, that I will reveal is the fact that I have been in solitary confinement at an early age. Later, I stayed, 2 more times in a place of complete aloneness for 6 weeks, more than once, and lesser times later. Now, That I’ve shared this part of my life, please, stay with my story, as I explain why and what came from those experiences.
I was reluctant to be born. The year and date: October 9, 1952, New Orleans, La, USA.In fact, I begged not to come. I recognized these thoughts were on my sons face as he entered the world December 12, 1983. He, too, didn’t want to enter this plane called Earth. My daughter, she too came May 23, 1980. She is another mighty knight.
Writing the beginning and knowing what is to come, is difficult, so at this point, I must rest, and gather my thoughts. Thank you for staying with me up to this point and reading. I do welcome any thoughts, questions and kind comments… Also, please note, I wrote this hastily. I wrote as the messenger told me to do. So, having said this, I realize there are grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, and other flaws. Please, feel free to contact me and let me know.. Thank you and have a happy, safe, peaceful, healthy and prosperous New Year 2015. May God reside with all…
While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..
When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.
They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.
So, He granted my wish.
Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.
I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.
I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.
Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.
If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.
With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.
This was my only “vision,” not a dream, I had ~ 3 years ago. Please, keep in mind I’m sixty-one, and having said this, I’m a big dreamer;
one real vision and this is it.
Right before bedtime, everything is as usual. I climb into bed and before my head hit’s the pillow, suddenly my bedroom is in a deep forest. It is winter and I’m alone. It isn’t cold or hot. The temperature is perfect. The odor was clean and pure. There are no leaves on the trees and everything is grey. The branches seem to have ice crystals dusting the limbs, but I can’t be sure as It is pitch dark and no light from the moon. There is a lights glow. It is unusual. It was not in front of me, but seemed to be over me as I stood. Then suddenly. I was moved forward. I didn’t walk but was moved further into the forest on a disc which I couldn’t see, I assume it was a disc. Still alone. No noise. I listened for a short while, then was moved again deeper into the woods. I heard a water. There was a voice that told me to go look. I walked to a ledge that overlooked a river and a waterfall was in the distance. There was another ridge across from me on two sides. The voice said, “dive into the water.” I said, “no, I can’t, I’m too frightened.” It said, “you must.” It said, “you must trust.” I didn’t do anything, but way away across to the other mountain ledge, I saw a huge city in flames. Then, I saw a monument burn and fall down the side of the slope of the mountain. Next thing I know I was back in my bed. I had not closed my eyes. I was never asleep.
Just another very real dream. Please, understand, this dream was symbolic and humans are not “demons.” This is not to be read literally. It is written from the animal kingdom.
There are parts of my dream that become relevant and clearer as I write and meditate on the symbolic meaning.Â
Thank you for reading.
Thank you Deloralock at fanart review for your picture which shows the precious animals in the forest.
The path that I followed in the desert dissipated under my feet. Then, three old friends joined my side. Their names:
Faith, Hope and Love. They said, “we will escort you. Do not fear. God is with you in the forest deep and dark. Every man must go alone. You must trust.”
Trust, another entity, took the lead. I began the journey.
The forest is dark and deep and the trees, which some are dead, vastly grow. Some trees young and some old and some rotten share the space. However, together the enormous group of all types become one. It seemed they all have a role. None are common, even though, some appear handsome, some grand and some quite irrelevant, all are a piece of the puzzle. Despite their outward appearance, in totality, they represent the whole of this forest. Each are profound.
This is when, I decide to wander deeper into the green forest mystical fog. It seems the woods call me by name and they whisper wisdom and truths. I can’t resist the call nor the hypnotic beauty they pocess. To some in the desert, the forest seems mysteriously evil and frightening. But I, find it breathtaking, alluring and magnetic. I know I belong inside. This is/was my home but, knowing too, I was/am a mere babe, returning to my origins. Simply, there was/is no other choice. The heat of the years cause me to wilt.
And~ (switch to past tense)
The temperature dropped as the shade of the canopy of trees welcomed me back. The coolness of shadows and the humidity embraced my body. Comfortable now, as the parched desert took a toll on my skin. It looked like a saddle and the sun did what it was suppose to do and cooked the frailness of human existence from me. The heat was the “refining fire” that The Bible, explains.
The tropical birds flew by my head! Oh my! I forgot about them and their array of colors. Greens to match the forest, oranges to show god’s royalty and blues to give me inspiration and my own palette of designs. Smiling at the gifts, I pressed forward.
The monkeys did not trust me. So, they watched my movements. Suspicious of my intentions, good or bad, they would find out my purpose. I greeted them honestly with a nod, “hello, I mean no harm.” They let me pass for now. They did not offer me food. They ate the fruit which their many bodies protected. “Food will come later, maybe.”
The flying creatures of the forest flitted contently from flower to flower, from creek to the water falls splash. Amazed, I stood watching. Delighting in that which others in the desert so feared. Bending down by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and drank the fresh cool water. To my surprise, I drank with another animal. It shared. This was the rule of the forest. The rules were not written or displayed. But, the rules were understood within the heart of everything that lived. And, if the rules were not abided by, then, the creature was expelled to the desert with “the humans.”
The humans, I dare say, captured, enslaved, ate and killed them for sport. The humans were considered, the demons. “The humans are to be feared.” And I, a human in their forest, recognized the fact, I am an intruder. But, they will trust me for a while. I will have to prove my integrity as a creature of God’s.
Needing a rest, I sat at the edge of a tree’s roots. Before falling soundly into a coma of sleep, I noticed the multi-colored green moss. It was damp, cold and sprung to new life. Small and delicate, the tiny leaves of multi greens invited me to observe it’s world. I looked harder, further, and magnified the mosses world in my imaginations. I saw another place, another home for strange odd life. Much different than my own, but also, dynamic, I saw. Then, fast asleep, I submerged.
While sleeping, a man stood by my side. He is familiar. Quiet and male by energy, he stood with dowsing sticks. The sticks circled around and around, then, rested pointing west. With a look to the west, his eyes pointed. “This way is best.” This time, I chose not to rebel. The last time I said, “No,” I was his teenage daughter. This time, I will listen. Though he a man of few words, he will show me the right direction. We will not make the same mistake. See, I learned that lesson. I take my nap sack and head west. Then, my next snore occurs.
There are several dimensions here. This is only two; shown me. The ability to sleep and travel at the same time. Here in The forest, I know this is true and possible. In the forest the hidden mysteries are revealed.
It is also made known, I may return to the desert at any time. The choice mine. No one makes another. There is no one to blame there is no control, by another. Choices for good are here. Choices for destruction are in the desert.