brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
Sleep last night was interesting and bizarre. A lot of acquaintances - and a few friends - have claimed that insomnia must involve only being unable to fall asleep or only being unable to stay asleep. I've got a form where I can do both perfectly well, but at the price of chronic pain physically, which also transcends my dreams which really should not be allowed to happen, and neurologically, which is not only a thing but which keeps parts of me both awake and asleep. Therefore, it takes too long to reach Stage 3 NREM, and Stage 4 NREM either is cut off or doesn't happen. REM itself usually happens at a time much later in sleep. Essentially, unless I set extreme alarm clocks, I will sleep for twelve hours easily and REM will happen in those last three hours.

This time, I had slept on and off throughout the afternoon in thirty minute bursts, which probably helped me get a more normal ten hours while still being woken by pain. But this time, my dreams were deep and amazing. Since I had finally just finished reading "The Winter Long" by Seanan McGuire - now my favorite Seanan book - the concept of Faerie in a Toby Daye meets Lost Girl style story exploded, and there was even a blog announcement by Seanan that the October Daye series would become a television series. For fuck's sake, there was a character embodying both Tybalt and Dyson. And then somehow I became the protagonist, as often happens, and my husband and I struggled to release a literally faceless mermaid into the ocean before she destroyed the land. There were tentacles and it was gross. But wow, lots of powers. Many, many powers. I always get powers in dreams, usually psionic, some form of psychokinesis, normally elemental. I still recall the dreams I had as a teenager where I was pyrokinetic enough to set a tree on fire just by waving my hand at it from the window of a room.

I am especially determined to wake up after nine or ten hours to dial back whatever toll the oversleeping is taking. Then, slowly, eight hours, just to see if I can handle that "average" 7 to 8 thing that normal people talk about.
Adam somehow gets by on less than 7 per night, sometimes 4 when he's out of state working 18-hour days as an IT/AV trade show technician and manager (he loves talking about his job, and it is fascinating work, since he gets to gain secret access to some of the most powerful places in the country and listen to some extraordinary science and medical research breakthroughs during conventions; even just setting up hotel rooms full of projectors, printers, computers, and video screens means being the on site technician when powerful things happen behind closed doors. There is also fixing stupid mistakes, frozen computers, and hours and hours of human error, but more hours means more pay, and he can carry entire printers up flights of stairs).

Also, I think making myself wake up earlier than what fibromyalgia wants will keep other things stable, aside from the obvious. Since going on Zanaflex, most of my systems affected by fibromyalgia have mildly stabilized, which is amusing, since Zanaflex is just a muscle relaxer. People in various support groups kept trying to insist that it shouldn't be happening and that Zanaflex is bad for me. They are so cute when they're trying to be the arbiters of other people's realities, especially regarding brain chemistry!

I'll see my awesome husband tomorrow night, or Thursday, when he returns from another work trip up and down the Northeast.

http://science.howstuffworks.com/life/inside-the-mind/human-brain/dream6.htm
I really must try dream incubation. With everything. Dream All The Things. I've used two phone apps so far to record my sleep, and one of them quit. No, really. The other one just became boring.
brightlotusmoon: (Asha)
'Reborn' by Laura Sava (anotherwanderer.deviantart.com/)
'Mirabella' by Rachel Anderson (www.silverstars.us/‎)

Two forms of my own story character, Asha Clara Night, my strongest, most individual, most personal fiction character.

These paintings. Completely different images that look almost exactly like incarnations of the same character of my own subconscious creation Women who look almost exactly like the dreamself I am becoming in my dreams and visions.

Laura-sava-Reborn

Rachel Anderson Mirabella


She was in my dreams last night and many nights before. I haven't decided exactly who she is yet, but in my dreams her name is Asha, meaning "desire, hope, hopeful; life; alive; she who lives." Which says so much, so so much.

She is another dreamself, not a spirit guardian, but much closer to my Self than my other characters (Alicia, Serena, Ananta: my spirit guardian coping mechanisms for epilepsy, memory loss, insomnia, sleep problems, [Alicia], chronic pain and fatigue, depression, anxiety, physical disabilities [Serena], neurology, neurodivergence, autism, total mind-body connection [Ananta].

Asha seems to represent many internal things about my emotions, my heart and mind, my rhyme and reason, my logic, my science, my creativeness and creativity, my power, my energy, my beauty. If she were to reveal herself as a guardian, she would be for emotional states, creative thoughts, desires, loves, patterns, ideas.
Asha is definitely powerful in a way I always wanted to be since childhood: Fae and and Elemental Mage and Neurodivergent and Autistic Witch and Quantum Magic Scientist and Story Crafter and Shape Shifter and Magic Librarian and Magic Keeper.

Asha seems to represent my deep, obsessive, compulsive wish and desire to be one of the psionic-mage superhumans in my stories, to take over for be when I feel failure and self-loathing and terror and panic. I think Asha may in fact be an actual entity, one who communicates outside instead of simply speaking into my visions, dreams, pain flare withdrawings, anxiety attacks.

All I know is that Asha was in every dream last night and throughout the past several sleeps, long detailed intense dreams, and she quoted Kosh. She spoke in a soprano version of my voice that could sing. She was always here She is always here. She has always been here.
I think she was with me since I was a baby. In different forms, in different species, with different names, in different imaginary beings, in different fictional characters. She was made of fire. She used to be a phoenix, a unicorn, a dragon, a star, a nebula. I know Asha. I know Asha in the way I hope to know myself.

The thing is, Asha has a fully active voice when I am completely conscious, aware, awake, functional, and stable. She didn't completely create herself, but she grew and evolved over my lifetime in her own way as a character in my subconscious. She took ideas I worked with and wove them into her personality, behavior, and mentality. My disabilities are hers. She stayed and changed and grew with me like a permanent piece of my spirit. Asha also represents my fluid sexuality - I often visit her in the place she calls home and we make love, representing my desires for love and orientation.

She lives with Alicia in the Wonderland cottage, but she freely moves about my brain more often. She shapeshifts into elemental energies, she moves around my hippocampus and amygdala and temporal lobes and cingulate gyrus and thalamus and auditory cortex and somatosensory cortex and parital lobe and the back of my brain.
She has altered the Wonderland cottage to be something else entirely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two office rooms, a large entertainment living room, a large kitchen, a basement. The outside build would contain concrete, cement, hemp and limestone, bamboo, steel. The glass windows are shatterproof. The doors are hemp-lime and timber. That must say something about my mind's inner workings. Especially since the main reason for hemp being illegal is due to its threat to corporate patentable synthetic fibers and wood and paper product industries, while the medicinal drug potential became subject to false claims and fear mongering alarm campaigns until the original industrial potential became buried under the alarmist anti drug campaigns. Part of me probably knows how powerful this is. Medicine from nature itself and the human brain itself is usually denied and seen as worthless.

Asha represents that part of me that firmly supports the controversial balance of traditional pharmaceutical medicine and nontraditional botanical medicine.
Asha is my activism and advocacy. Asha is the fire that moves my belief in the combination of synthetic drugs and organic drugs. Asha is the phoenix in me that rises after every defeat, every failure, every attack, every oppression, every attack and assault on my truths and faiths.

Throughout many names, faces, back stories, lives, personalities, and individual growths... she has always been Asha Clara Night. And this is how she asked me to look so I could see that there is beauty deep and shining.

I must find and thank the artists for these images, since I found myself taking these pieces of artwork and subconsciously turning them into incarnations of my own fictional character.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151978626835684&l=17dde55bf4

Asha may well be the character in that second novel after all. It won't be this Asha, my Asha; just a version, a more humanized incarnation I can bring out to show the public. This excites me. She could help me write it, just by living in my mind.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
So, I had an absolutely bizarre dream last night and I absolutely need to write down what I remember:

I'm able to drive. I'm in a little white Dodge Neon, which is important because I'm taking it to a mechanic garage for various maintenance things. After I park the car and get out, the dream takes very wild turns:
There are multiple and frightening methods of getting down to the mechanic's office itself, which in a sub-basement. Someone comes up to fetch me and leads me through a series of mechanisms. A shaky elevator lift similar to the one used in the TV series "Archer" as well as a Faraday cage. Metal stairs with crumbling plaster on the walls. A metal ladder with slim rungs. Once down into the garage, I meet the family of mechanics, who explain that due to certain circumstances - which in the dream were explained but which I cannot recall - they will not charge me for anything. I spend some time there. They ask one of their daughters to guide me back upstairs to the basement and then the street, where my car will be waiting for me.
The woman is in her early twenties, with long red hair, green eyes, and a tall slender athletic body. She limps on both legs which doesn't seem to hinder her speed and agility. In fact, when I'm having trouble keeping up with her with my cane and my own physical issues, she snaps at me. When I tell her to cut me some slack because I have a disability and I'm crippled, she says this: "I was never cut any slack. My family pushed me beyond it. I had to keep going. I never told anyone I'm crippled, so nobody knows. You have to do better than that. Don't tell anyone. Don't let anyone know, don't let anyone see."
I said, "I was born like this; I've never known anything else. People always saw no matter what. I explained. I educated. And you sound bitter." She pauses and says, "I wasn't born like this. It happened a few years ago when I was working and a car jack slipped and part of the cat fell on my legs. I guess I never thought of it being something intrinsic."
I tell her, "Well, for you it's an acquired disability, and it sounds like you've been forcing yourself to ignore it, right?"
She nods. She says that when she was little, she would have dreams of wild animals turning into cars and she knew she would always be in the family business, and becoming disabled nearly destroyed her. The majority of her family refused to let her rest after she recovered and demanded that she continue working through her pain and difficulties. She tells me that the choice was made for her - that her disability would be seen as a weakness, a shame, something to be pitied and tossed aside. She begins crying and then slamming her fists against a wall. I put my arms around her. We sit on the floor while she cries.
After some time, we hold hands and walk outside, where my little white Dodge Neon is waiting, washed and cleaned. It's very bright and sunny outside. The girl hugs me and thanks me and walks back into the garage.
The rest of the dream involves me going back and forth between diners and fast food restaurants for some reason.
When I woke up, I thought, "Did I just dream myself being internally ableist or was that just my brain recycling activism and advocacy against criticism?"
I am still not sure.

To Google for dream analysis!
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
Sooo... that hard fall I took yesterday outside the medical buildings? It turns out it was a little worse than I thought. This displeases me. Both legs, hips, knees, and the general lower back is stiff, bruised, burning, throbbing, stabby, and eurgh. And somehow, my fingers feel as though they've been slashed from the inside. I don't understand that part. So I've been doing sciatica hamstring stretches, like my favorite butterfly stretch, hot showers yada yada. You know, the personalized modified NotYoga basic poses that might be basic Baby Pilates. I really did not expect it.

It was just a slip and fall onto a grassy sidewalk, I said. I was wearing layers and carrying a cane, I said. It wasn't so awful, I said. What the fuck is this, I now say.

So, right. Last night, I dreamed that I was on a beach being attacked by a creature that slashed me to ribbons before canon characters from "Lost Girl" arrived (I know, facepalm). I was still an airmed Light Fae (pronounced "awr-meed"), my OC, so I healed well enough, but I remember Bo and Dyson holding me tight trying to staunch the blood flow while Trick guided Kenzi through some sort of incantation, I don't know. I just remember falling asleep in Bo's arms. And I woke up in actual life, in my bed, feeling exactly like my dream self. The sciatica in my right leg was so intense that I stretched for hours without leaving the bed. I couldn't move my fingers very well. I don't even know. (Also, Doctor Lauren wasn't there because I dislike Lauren :p)

So right now, neither leg works well and it is really hard to limp with two stiff legs. The remaining Soma, which will not be refilled, will be taken until the bottle is empty, and then the increased Baclofen will take over. I will continue to stretch and apply massage and heat, because fucking sciatica. Also, during the night my back kept spasming so hard that I had to separate "CP spasm" from "complex partial seizure" since those seizures tend to send warning signals to my spine for some reason. It may have been both. Chronic stress, after all. Banging head on wall. All these little things, I swear. I'm clenching my fists. It hurts. I want to scream.

The ridiculous part of this is that it was just a simple trip, slip, and fall on a grassy sidewalk. And yet my entire body has decided that it was a Big Deal. *side-eye*

I have friends battling various cancers, severe diabetes, multiple sclerosis, diseases with a potential death sentence. They're trying to stay low and not pain-brag or talk about their symptoms. I admire their strength. I admire how we all handle our own illnesses in our own way. I just... I cannot stop feeling the need to talk, even if it's just about those little things. Because I know people want to know. I want to tell people I am here, and they are not alone.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
Well, hello, 2014. It's not your fault that I have been feeling like fresh hell since, oh, December 31st. It's just how it is.
We have snow, ice, and cold. I got legitimately and honestly mocked by someone from Minnesota who called me a *ahem* "pussy whiner* for mentioning that any temperature below 20 F damaged me severely physically. I wrote a scathing note back which shut her the hell up, and I invited her to come down during the height of summer, upon which she exclaimed "but I'll burn up!" and to which I replied, "Oh, sweetie... it's not even that hot!" aand the conversation was over. I posted my feelings on Facebook, to which I got several agreements.

*Dear people used to cold climates who are seriously, non-jokingly, honestly, deliberately laughing at, judging, and mocking people used to warm climates:

Okay, look. I know, we're whining and complaining because our freezing is your Tuesday. Okay, maybe we should just suck it up and wear more layers. But you know what? After living in this sort of climate for a very long time, something happens to our bodies and our blood. Just like you. That is why a hideous drop in temperature makes us rise up and scream, or, what you call whining, while for you it's just another snowy happy day across the killer ice. Because your biology has grown so accustomed to your climate and your weather, you may be literally unable to now understand how difficult and painful it can get when one minute it is just under forty degrees Fahrenheit and a few hours later it is just under ten. It is an actual, physiological, biological shock to our systems. And for those of us living with chronic illness, disabilities, and disorders that get worse when the cold comes, it can be viciously, horrifyingly painful in ways you may be unable to realize. I don't blame you for calling us whiners and pussies. In fact, I'm gonna pat you on the heads and smile and say, "Okay, sweetie..." in a soft voice. Because that is all I can do right now to keep my frozen fingers from smacking you. I'm sure you would do the same for me if you came over during a light heat wave, which we call Thursday, and start complaining that you were burning up possibly to death, and I laughed at you and said "Oh sweetie, it's not even that hot!". And then I would just smile and hand you a cup of ice water.
So. When I say my joints are exploding with fiery pain drawn from the most intense magma, that my muscles are locked in howling agony as a sensation of pure horrific icy cold runs through them, that my nerves and blood vessels actually begin to scream if I step foot outside in less than twenty degrees F no matter what I am wearing, then I really fucking mean it with no hyperbole. And so I will ask you in a quiet, raspy voice to not ever tease me again about how cold I think it is here in central Maryland. Because pain is pain is pain. And I can still stab you with an ice pick and that will still be pain.
Smiley face!*

I am still in that pain, sooo... mmhmm. I've put on plenty of sweaters, too. I mean, joking is fine. But seriously making fun of my pain issues in cold weather is never a good idea.

Also, I wonder how I can still have allergy issues when it is this cold. Wait. No, I don't. *bites lip, facepalms* Carry on.

Life is well enough. Adam made dough, and then made cinnamon rolls, and then made icing out of powdered sugar and labneh, which is a form of liquid kefir strained yogurt from the Middle East. Probiotics and whatnot. Adds a fantastic tart tang. H-Mart is a wonderful multi-country grocery store.

I have been sleeping too intensely, or rather dreaming too intensely. It's caused me to sleep too hard. But those dreams, oh, they are creative and inventive as hell. My brain really needs to stop playing fanfic with the TV series 'Lost Girl'. I've been reading detailed recaps of season four, via Canadian blogs, since that season only begins here this month, whereas Canada is around eight episodes in. I guess I do prefer spoilers, sweetie.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
And... some days I wake up from ethereal dreams I barely remember having the intense sense of former pointed ears, former wings growing from my shoulders, and a former unicorn horn growing from my forehead. If I look in a mirror before the dream is fully shaken, my eyes still have a faceted crystal glow, white enough to show every color, ringed by blue-tinted midnight black, and my skin shines from beneath, light rippling across my hands, like reflections in rivers.
Sometimes in those moments I just don't feel human. And it makes me feel wonderful.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Ruby Blood Dragon Witch Light)
Last night... I dreamed that we went to the shelter and adopted a young cat - a kitten, really, a domestic shorthair tabby - and the gender didn't matter, but the name meant "Life" or "World" or anything magical...
Emma. Zoe. Zoya. Gaia. Vita. Asha. Mira. Zena. Yuki. Saturn. Nova. Chronos. Rhea. Deus. Dragon. Elfin.

Why did it have to be so soon? My heart/mind already is desperate to fill that abyss. Rose was that kind of cat, after all. Everyone says their cat is incredibly unique. Rose was incredibly unique. I don't even know.

I know well enough that I need a cat whose personality and behavior involves pure love: holding, hugging, cuddling, nuzzling, trilling, adoration.

My heart needs time to heal. I know. But soon enough, that cat will be waiting for me.

I don't know what I will do. Emotionally dead one moment, sobbing wildly the next minute. I know this is normal.

Luna snuggles me and purrs louder than ever.

Yes. I want a third cat.

I don't know how I will feel or think tomorrow.

I am not used to thinking in the moment.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
This was originally written around 1:00 PM:

So, er. Odd morning, that. I barely slept and kept waking up every two hours. When I finally remembered dreaming, I received a hideously intense, gruesome series of nightmares that kept killing me with piano wire and energy alien possessions. The piano wire felt damn real. I had to watch the alien slice all my bodies into pieces with blue liquid for blood. My pain receptors had a party, because I was physically feeling every bite and slice. Don't you hate when that happens? Damn formless energy aliens with their piano wires, making people dead and stuff. And also, I kept running from dreamplace to dreamplace without clothes or only a small covering, surrounded by people too high and drunk to care. I kept jumping from body to body, while a formless energy chased, possessed, and killed me. And also I was coughing up blue liquid right before the alien piano wire deaths. Lots of those. I hate you too, brain! I'm sure it all symbolized my ultimate rejection of aspects of myself and discarding bits I dislike, and also I'm not saying it was aliens but it was aliens. And pain receptors.

I was woken up by Jupiter biting my gemstone bracelets, his signal for me to pet, scritch, and brush him. When I was having trouble moving, he grabbed my arm with his paw and pulled it toward him, then carefully touched my cheek, until I lifted the other arm to pet him. He did make a sound, he just kept touching me with his little lion paws and nudging me with his little lion nose. (And he was not brave at the start but he's gotten braver, cough.) I wound up brushing all three cats with the first metal brush I could find, and it made them happy enough that I was able to disregard most of the worst of the dreams.

And now it still feels like there is piano wire under my skin, in my muscles and connective tissue. I just finished my shower. Also, I stepped on the scale for the third time in a few months, and oh, hello, much lower weight, haven't seen you in a couple of years. Um... how've you been? I was not expecting you? Hi? That's why my jeans were loose and my ribs were prominent?
I'm going to eat more peanut butter and make oatmeal. Er.

Also, allergies! Gnah! *not-fun headbanging*

In between wild writings, I have been at http://www.catsplanet.info/ squealing over photos of tiny kitten feet.
I mean, come on. http://www.catsplanet.info/how-can-you-say-no-to-this-sweetie-pie
Seriously. http://www.catsplanet.info/i-just-realized-it-was-my-cake-day
AUGH. http://www.catsplanet.info/just-doing-my-stretches
Tiny kitten feet are mesmerizing.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
I stretched the hell out of my back and legs and arms. It was lovely. I did it my way. I am very pleased and very satisfied. I won't discuss the various burning barbed wire pains that are distracting me even through the codeine, but I will talk about the beautiful meditative exercises I've been working with. Peaceful, serene, tranquil, calm, relaxing, refreshing, fantastic in multiple ways. The scene always changes, but always appears Zen in some way.
I had mentioned that my human coping mechanisms, my spirit guardians, had begun communicating with each other deep in my brain without my conscious knowledge, which leads me to believe that parts of my brain are starting to come together as part of the story, as my unlimited imagination and writerbrain is starting working on a whole new, amazingly unique, private story all on its own. No wonder I have been working on Amber's story beyond these bits of my brain. Amber has also given me free reign to write her as a fully developed character and not just a created coping mechanism.
In general, I am just... very happy.
And the funny thing is that I am in a depressive episode. I have all the symptoms, and I am quite conscious and aware. But I have things that are helping distract me: Talking about my imagination and my creativity, talking about the triggers for my panic attacks and my simple seizures, talking about comedy TV shows and powerful fiction books. Somehow it all is able to keep the major depression away, although it is a very intense fight. Sometimes I find myself weak and struggling, even physically, as thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness, frustration and terror, pessimism and guilt all slam into me and my wall and my shell.
I suppose I could say I am happy. I feel happy.
But... what is happiness?
"Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy." Sure, I feel those things. However, there is a strong undercurrent of the exact opposite.
Brains, man. Brains are wild. Brains are weird. Brains are so complex. One day, I want to have an MRI and see exactly what my brain is doing. I want to sit with multiple brain specialists for hours on end, and just... talk. I want to talk about my brain.
Brains, man.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Another bizarre, color-based fantastic dream last night.
I was walking through a small town full of colors of all kinds. I had my handbag on me and I wondered if I could practice any magic with my cosmetics. However, the eyeshadows from the previous dream were gone.
An older woman came to me and said, "I know what you need. The powders you were using are limited. But these are not. I give these to you as my gift, freely, with no expectations. They belong to you."
She handed me two eyeshadow cases. I recognized them instantly - I own them in the waking world: Too Faced Exotic Color Eye Shadow Singles in Poison Orchid and Midnight Mist. I frowned and stared at her, realizing that her eyelids were painted with a blend of the two. I asked, "Are these stronger?"
"Oh yes," she said. "They heal and harm, create and destroy. Use your finger or a shadow brush. Wear them blended on your eyelids and you are immune to anyone who tries to use magic in a negative or destructive way. Swipe one on each wrist and your own magic will be increased. Wear them any which way you wish and you will be stronger. There is always power in color. Do you wear the red lipcolors that the Art Goddess gave you?"
I tilted my head. "I don't know. I own many red lip shades."
She smiled. Then you probably do. Do you know the names Provocateur, Hot Mama, Pretty Woman, Ruby Slippers, Stiletto Red, Wild?"
"Oh!" I said. "Oh, yes! Buxom and It Cosmetics and Too Faced and Tarte! I always feel drawn to them. Um, pun intended?"
The woman laughed, and her dark blue eyes glowed. "These eyeshadows are Too Faced and the names are no coincidence in this dimension. You come here very often in your dreams." She peered closer at me, nose to nose. "You are wearing Tarte Maracuja Concealer and It Cosmetics Concealer. One day, you will see the true complete beauty, and you may not use so much."
I smirked. "Are you a psychiatrist?"
"Sort of," she laughed. "Empathic witchcraft has advantages. You use color and cosmetics as both enhancement and costume. That is perfect and good. But you must remember that you, as you, are always beautiful."
I took a very deep breath. "It will take a while."
She reached out and pressed her palms against my cheeks. "You will know. You are loved."
It seemed as though she were about to walk away, but she paused and looked at me again. "The Too Faced Lipstick in Stiletto Red and the Tarte Lipstick in Wild. Use them to draw your personal magical symbols where you need on your body, when you come into this dream dimension again. You will understand why once you walk through our town."
I nodded. "And the Too Faced eyeshadows?"
"Oh, you know how they work!" she laughed. "You could even just open them and point them at the sky when you need to destroy your monsters and horrors. Midnight Amethyst and and Midnight Sapphire are designed to work in moonlight, sunlight, and all elements."
I realized that nothing was enigmatic anymore. I started laughing. Behind me, a gateway opened. I stepped back, waving at my companion. She held out one hand, fingers spread wide, and passed a golden-silver stream of light to my hand. I laughed loudly, and the gateway gently wrapped around me and pulled me through. It took a while for me to wake up. I suppose I could call it dream limbo. Light and shadow, color and negative space, filled with serenity.
I will go back. It is my town, after all.



The makeup in this photo:
Too Faced Exotic Single Eyeshadow in Poison Orchid, Midnight Mist
It Cosmetics Hello Lashes Volume Growth Mascara
It Cosmetics Vitality Lip Butter Gloss in Ruby Slippers
Tarte Maracuja Creaseless Concealer

Front facing smartphone cameras with anti-shake technologies are so freaking awesome for disabled people!
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Why is it that, in most dreams where I am in physical danger, I am unable to scream or move quickly?
My last dream involved a bad fall and crash at the top of the stairs, while a large group of people were downstairs having a small quiet party. Something supernatural was with me, something insidious. I grabbed the stair ledge and pulled myself up to a kneeling position. I yelled my husband's name, but it was only a whisper. I couldn't call for help, not with the shadowy creature surrounding me. I was moving so slowly. It felt as though nobody was in the house but me, me and the cats.
And abruptly, I realized that nobody was in the house. Adam was at work. There was no party. The cats were all downstairs. It was only me and the shadow entity. I struggled to call on my internal resources, my spirit guardians, but even my psychic voice was muffled. I was not afraid. I was determined. I was badly injured, and I only had myself, and my powers to create weapons and defenses were drained. I stopped trying to stand. I knelt there and mouthed words, calling on the water in the bathroom, the air circulating around the house, the earth under the house, the fire downstairs used to light the gas stove. I pulled in all into me, and with a desperate burst, I unleashed it. The shadow creature shrieked and vanished.
Without any warning at all, the house filled with presence again. There was that quiet downstairs party. I whispered my husband's name again, struggling to turn it into a cry. Someone must have heard. Adam came up the stairs and found me, sagging against the door of the bathroom, my nose bleeding. He spoke to me. He half-carried me to the bedroom and helped me lie down. He brought damp towels and tissues and water with electrolytes. I managed, somehow, to tell him that a negative spirit had entered the house and stole my strength, and I pulled all the elemental power I could to drive it away. He was very proud but also puzzled, since the house was supposed to be powerfully shielded and guarded. I was crying but I didn't mean to cry. It was just a reaction without intention. He stroked my hair and curled up with me, and me took my hand and fed me energy and power and strength, and he said, "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll be monitoring you through our psychic bond and everything will be okay. I will strengthen the wards." He needed to check on our friends. He would back be up soon.
The dream ended there.

It has been something of a recurring thing: My slowness in dreams. My exquisite agony in dreams. My whispering words in dreams. Sometimes I can barely walk for the pain in my hips and knees. Sometimes I can only speak with thoughts instead of physical words. Sometimes my body is wrapped in a floating translucent shell and it is the only way I can move. In my dreams, the pain is so much worse than in reality. But I have access to weapons of all kind and I feel safe, even if something horrible grabs me.

When I was a child, I had flying dreams every night. Even astral projection. Like my father and cousins in their younger years. And if a harmful person appeared, I just waved my right hand fiercely, shouting "Shoo! Shoo!" to make then disappear.

When I was a child, I dreamed of dragons, of ancient tortoises, of unicorns mixed with white tigers, of phoenix birds with feathers of every color. Dragons have never been dangerous to me. Even if some were, there were always other dragons who were benevolent.

It is why I always bristle when I read an article comparing chronic pain to dragons. The only way I can see such battles happening is dragon against dragon. And I am a human amalgam of dragon, phoenix, tortoise, unicorn, white tiger, and fae, wrapped in the skin of a moonlight witch.

Then, why do my dreams cripple me? The only reason I can think of is to teach me to use the insides, the powers coming from my spirit and not my body. My body is very important and vital to me. But perhaps not so much in my dreams.

And I think this piece of art, beyond anything, is one of the greatest ways I can understand myself. Every time I look at it, I weep. I even have that same cane. I know Shinga and I barely know each other, but she knows chronic pain. She knows what being a warrior means. She was in the US Army and was badly injured and treated so poorly during therapy that she has severe PTSD. She is disabled badly. She knows battles. And I want to hold her and hold her and tell her what this means to me.

http://shinga.deviantart.com/art/Awaken-Warrior-and-Rise-378439320
awaken__warrior__and_rise_by_shinga-d69b9nc
(Note: Please please refer to Shinga before borrowing or using this image. Please use the Deviant Art link. This is her work. Copyright Shinga. The only reason I displayed the actual image was in case someone can't click on the link.)
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
Does anyone here have any experience with Taoism?
I have been having recurring dreams about walking down a long winding path of many colors, with a companion made up of dragon, cat, and humanoid parts.
She tells me the same thing over and over:
"Be who you are. Love who you are. Know who you are. Follow your own Way. Your own Path stretches long and strong all around you. Happiness, ecstasy, tranquility, serenity, joy, peace - it is all part of you. Heed the advice of others, even if they do not always match your Way or Path. See anger as a thing to work with, not against. Be calm in the face of fear and rage. Be the dragon, acting; do not be the tiger, reacting. You are part of the universe and every cosmic force. Be a force within yourself."

Now, what I find fascinating is this:

**
A recurrent and important element of Taoism are rituals, exercises and substances aiming at aligning oneself spiritually with cosmic forces, at undertaking ecstatic spiritual journeys, or at improving physical health and thereby extending one's life, ideally to the point of immortality. Probably the most characteristic among these methods is Taoist alchemy. Already in very early Taoist scriptures - like the Taiping Jing and the Baopuzi - alchemical formulas for achieving immortality were outlined. Enlightened and immortal beings are referred to as xian.
A number of martial arts traditions, particularly the ones falling under the category of Neijia (like T'ai Chi Ch'uan, Bagua Zhang and Xing Yi Quan) embody Taoist principles to a significant extent, and some practitioners consider their art to be a means of practicing Taoism.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taoism
**

Recently, it has been as though a biochemical or neurochemical switch has been flipped and I have begun to see things in ways I can't explain. My mood is still elevated even when I'm in depressive or postictal states, which is fascinating. It's as though a part of my brain and mind has separated and remained lit up, waiting to merge back in when all the neurological crap has been treated. I like it.

(Also, please don't suggest yoga. Yoga does not work well for me. I perform personalized exercises and stretches that resemble certain yoga poses, but I do not do yoga.)
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Light Pale)
bluelotusglow

bluedarklotus

bluelotus4

***
You lift your head to ask if this is a dream. She presses her finger to your lips and smiles. As she gently places the shining blossom into your outstretched hands, she whispers, "This will be safe inside you. Together, you will understand." You want to ask her everything, but you know you mustn't. She kisses your lips and stands tall. Raising her arms, she fades slowly. The air is filled with the scent of the sacred lotus. You press the flower to your breast and it vanishes, sinking inside you. And you begin to understand.
***
You find her in the swamp itself. This time she is wearing faded denim shorts and a sleeveless top, muscled abdomen and arms well exposed, bronze skin glistening. She is knee deep in muddy water, examining each blossom with careful fingers. She looks up at you with bright green eyes and smiles widely. Her hair is blacker than the darkest muddy water, tied back with satin. She looks so young and so old.
"Are you here for another one?" she asks. "Never mind, of course you are. Hold on. I need to find yours." She moves slowly, dipping her hands in up to the wrists until her skin is masked in mud.
"They're sleepy today," she says. "Here, talk. Ask which one wants you and I'll take it."
"Do I have to come into the mud?" you ask, preparing to remove your shoes.
"No, no, just call out. They'll hear you even far away."
You take a deep breath, focus on the flowers floating all around the woman, and say, "Dear blossom, come to me." You aren't sure if that will work. But then the woman nods. She tilts her head one way and the other. She turns around and walks a foot, then slowly bends at the knees and carefully scoops up a richly pink lotus that looks exactly like all the others. She whispers something, and the flower begins to glow. Grinning, the woman walks out of the swamp and holds out the flower. "Perfect!" she says. "Instant connection. Good job."
You cup your hands and she slides your lotus into your hands. There is a small amount of mud; it feels cool and refreshing, with a slight tingling. The lotus shines so brightly that you need to squint, and it disappears into your hands, under your skin.
You blink at the woman. "So that's it?"
She smiles. "Nope. Never. But you're learning more as you go. I'll see you when you're ready to come back. You'll know where I'll be."
You want to ask something, something important. You have forgotten. You just feel blissful. You reach out, and she hugs you tightly, burying her face in your hair. You rest your chin on her shoulder. She smells like lotus and frankincense and pure joy.
"I'll come home soon," you murmur. She just nods. Nothing else needs to be said.
***
The lotus flowers are in full bloom, all of them. You stand naked and waist deep in the swamp, surrounded. The blossoms and glowing gently, swimming around you. Your guide is nowhere. You cannot call out, or speak, or even whisper. You draw in a breath. A small pink petal floats on the air toward you and presses itself on your tongue. No, you think. I must not speak. You are crowded by flowers. Instinct speaks, and you fall back until the lotus flowers catch you. You are floating on a shining bed of full lotus blossoms. You are covered in tingling mud. You open your mouth and light streams from it. A single whole flower lifts and slowly flies to you and settles gently in your mouth. You breathe in very slowly, and the lotus becomes pure energy that pours down your throat like a refreshing drink. You close your eyes. Everything makes sense. You are everywhere. You begin to laugh, but you do not know if it is in your mind or through your mouth.
"There you go!" says a familiar golden voice. "How do you feel now?" You open your eyes. You cannot stop laughing like a child. The Lotus Woman has eyes that cycle through every shade of green, and you find it fascinating. She reaches for you, and you reach for her. She scoops you up and carries you to a heated rock beyond the swamp. There are clothes waiting for you, folded on another rock. The Lotus Woman helps you sit up. She produces a wood brush and slowly combs your hair, letting the bright, bright sun dry the muddy water away. She carefully rubs you down with a towel that feels like silk and cotton. You look at her, finally, and notice that now she is wearing a red sundress that moves like water, with boots polished like mirrors.
She finishes smoothing you down and helps you into undergarments, blue slacks, a red tee shirt, and boots similar to hers.
"We're going to the healing room," she says, "if you'd like. There will be oil massage and saunas and showers of all kinds. Now that you have your next lotus, I think you'll appreciate the new magic."
You just feel so much bliss, so much joy, so much euphoria, that you only nod and smile widely. She taps her finger on your nose. "Now, don't get excited. That'll fade. We need to make sure it doesn't overwhelm you. It's supposed to become part of you, remember?"
Licking your lips and taking a deep breath, you say, "Yes. I'll remember." Your voice sounds like small bells inside your head.
You hold the Lotus Woman's hand and shield your eyes from the sun with your other hand. She is leading you far from the swamp, but it is all right. You will be back soon, of course.
***
It is the way she looks at you, with that quirky smile and those gleaming dark green eyes.
You hold out your cupped hands, trying not to tremble, trying not to disturb the velvety white lotus nestled against your fingers.
"Is this your gift to me?" she asks.
"Yes," you say. "You have helped me so much... and I know you always have these, but I found this one right where I live, and, I mean, I know they're so rare, but..."
She holds up a hand, smiling so widely. "It's okay, sweetheart. I understand." She very carefully takes the lotus from you, holds it to her lips, and kisses the petals. "Thank you. It's perfect."
"Maybe... maybe tomorrow," you say shakily, "we can go to the swamp and... you know... talk to the other flowers?"
She tilts her head and her eyes fill with compassion. "Oh, darling," she murmurs. "Don't be so nervous. There's no need to be shy. This is your world. We will do anything you wish."
You nod, your throat thick with tears. You have no idea what to say next. You realize you don't need to say a word. You watch as she holds your white lotus gift to her breast, and you watch as the lotus turns into golden light, and you watch as the lotus melts into her bronze skin, and you watch as she draws a deep deep breath, exhaling into the sky. Suddenly, you feel a massive weight lifted, spiraling away from the top of your head. Energy fills you starting at your feet and moving in a rush until it reaches the same top of your head. You feel absolute and complete ecstasy, euphoria, tranquility, and serenity. You draw a deep deep breath, exhaling into the sky. You want to laugh, so you laugh. And she laughs with you.
You feel how deeply the universe lives inside you. You laugh, and you embrace everything you can reach, until you feel yourself glowing. You dance and dance, and she takes your hands and joins you, and the universe dances with you.
***
This time, you are standing ankle-deep in a swamp at midnight. Everything is glowing blue - the sky, the water, the lotus flowers, your skin.
The Lotus Woman is sitting in front of you, cross-legged, surrounded by blue and white lotus blossoms all in full bloom. Her bronze skin, her black hair, her green eyes... everything about her is shining with pale blue light.
You feel comforted and serene in a way you have never known at such a deep level. You carefully sit down in the same position, letting the mud flow against you. You and she are both dressed in shorts and sleeveless tops, no shoes, your hair both unbound. The mud sinks effortlessly into your skin.
Neither of you speak. After a few minutes, one lotus blossom floats into your lap, white and blue and covered in dew drops. You very gently pick it up and it dissolves into your skin with an intense burst of blue and white light.
She grins and laughs, clapping her hands. "Oh, yay! I was hoping you would get that one. It's been waiting for you."
You smile and shrug. "I guess I've been waiting too."
The dozens of flowers float and spin around you both, several touching your skin and her skin, merging with you in tiny light bursts that feel like soft winds. She holds out her hands and you reach out and you grasp them tightly.
You don't know how long you sit and meditate, but it doesn't matter. Forever can fit inside a single moment, after all.
The white and blue lotus blossoms swirl around you, lifting your soul, until the entire world is filled with light, and you feel completely at peace, bursting with serenity.
***
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
It really is extraordinary how a disabled body can go from fairly fine to completely crippled within a few hours. Yay, life. Now I have to actively measure out whether or not I will be able to leave the house and walk two minutes to the mail boxes and two minutes back, and how much it will cost me, and how much the pain will ratchet up to. ("Not to fifty!") ("These go to eleven!")

In someone else's life, this sort of thing doesn't happen, right? In someone else's life, this would be abnormal, right?
I mean, I like being abnormal. But not like this.

Anyway. The dreams last night. Oh gods. The last one. I honestly thought it was a real movie and I told myself that when I woke up I would have to Google it and find the alternate ending:
Two guys, married legally, have a baby. The brown-haired guy's sperm is put into the sister of the red-haired guy, so the sister is the surrogate and mother and the red-haired guy has his DNA in the child while his partner is the father. Etc. The baby is born. They name her Glory. A year later, the mother/sister is killed in a car crash. The fathers decide to move elsewhere with Glory, and they wind up on a boat, like a small cruise ship or something. Something happens, the three of them wind up stranded in a lifeboat. It starts to look like those awful movies with two people flailing in shark-infested waters, except there's a baby involved. Somehow, they get rescued. By a crab boat, I think. Yeah. Crab or shrimp or something. Then, they accidentally wind up in a Northwestern town where one of them resembles an escaped terrorist. They both get arrested. While they are getting themselves sorted out, someone takes Glory away from them until her parentage can be proved. Glory mistakenly gets adopted out to an infertile straight couple a couple of towns over. The fathers don't realize this until it is too late. By this time, the biological father is proven, but now there is a custody fight, since the new parents don't exactly want to give up the baby. They wind up letting the fathers move in to their very large farmhouse and Glory is raised in a huge extended family, and then a tornado rips through the town and everyone has to take cover, and the adoptive father is killed. At this point, it is sixteen years later. There is a scene in which Glory and her two fathers and her adoptive mother are all huddled in a corner, and the woman reveals that the reason they never could have kids is because she had s hysterectomy as a teenager because she was so unsure of her gender, sex, and orientation. She hid it from her husband, and later realized she was pansexual. So they wind up becoming poly and she brings in a transman boyfriend. Then Glory reveals that she's bisexual and wants to go to college in Washington DC to be close to Congress as they consider various LGBT bills. And then the dream ended. I was ridiculously disappointed.

Now my cats are all being adorable really hard as though it is their job to cheer me up today. I like it. The carisoprodol just kicked in. I'm watching Futurama. I'm reading webcomics. I may have the power to get the mail after all. Hey hey.
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
Started on Facebook. Copied to Livejournal because Facebook is not a blog.
Inspired by a painting. Actual recurring dreams. Stream of consciousness, free form.
Will be updated as the dreams continue.



****

You lift your head to ask if this is a dream. She presses her finger to your lips and smiles. As she gently places the shining blossom into your outstretched hands, she whispers, "This will be safe inside you. Together, you will understand." You want to ask her everything, but you know you mustn't. She kisses your lips and stands tall. Raising her arms, she fades slowly. The air is filled with the scent of the sacred lotus. You press the flower to your breast and it vanishes, sinking inside you. And you begin to understand.
*
You find her in the swamp itself. This time she is wearing faded denim shorts and a sleeveless top, muscled abdomen and arms well exposed, bronze skin glistening. She is knee deep in muddy water, examining each blossom with careful fingers. She looks up at you with bright green eyes and smiles widely. Her hair is blacker than the darkest muddy water, tied back with satin. She looks so young and so old.
"Are you here for another one?" she asks. "Never mind, of course you are. Hold on. I need to find yours." She moves slowly, dipping her hands in up to the wrists until her skin is masked in mud.
"They're sleepy today," she says. "Here, talk. Ask which one wants you and I'll take it."
"Do I have to come into the mud?" you ask, preparing to remove your shoes.
"No, no, just call out. They'll hear you even far away."
You take a deep breath, focus on the flowers floating all around the woman, and say, "Dear blossom, come to me." You aren't sure if that will work. But then the woman nods. She tilts her head one way and the other. She turns around and walks a foot, then slowly bends at the knees and carefully scoops up a richly pink lotus that looks exactly like all the others. She whispers something, and the flower begins to glow. Grinning, the woman walks out of the swamp and holds out the flower. "Perfect!" she says. "Instant connection. Good job."
You cup your hands and she slides your lotus into your hands. There is a small amount of mud; it feels cool and refreshing, with a slight tingling. The lotus shines so brightly that you need to squint, and it disappears into your hands, under your skin.
You blink at the woman. "So that's it?"
She smiles. "Nope. Never. But you're learning more as you go. I'll see you when you're ready to come back. You'll know where I'll be."
You want to ask something, something important. You have forgotten. You just feel blissful. You reach out, and she hugs you tightly, burying her face in your hair. You rest your chin on her shoulder. She smells like lotus and frankincense and pure joy.
"I'll come home soon," you murmur. She just nods. Nothing else needs to be said.
*
The lotus flowers are in full bloom, all of them. You stand naked and waist deep in the swamp, surrounded. The blossoms and glowing gently, swimming around you. Your guide is nowhere. You cannot call out, or speak, or even whisper. You draw in a breath. A small pink petal floats on the air toward you and presses itself on your tongue. No, you think. I must not speak. You are crowded by flowers. Instinct speaks, and you fall back until the lotus flowers catch you. You are floating on a shining bed of full lotus blossoms. You are covered in tingling mud. You open your mouth and light streams from it. A single whole flower lifts and slowly flies to you and settles gently in your mouth. You breathe in very slowly, and the lotus becomes pure energy that pours down your throat like a refreshing drink. You close your eyes. Everything makes sense. You are everywhere. You begin to laugh, but you do not know if it is in your mind or through your mouth.
"There you go!" says a familiar golden voice. "How do you feel now?" You open your eyes. You cannot stop laughing like a child. The Lotus Woman has eyes that cycle through every shade of green, and you find it fascinating. She reaches for you, and you reach for her. She scoops you up and carries you to a heated rock beyond the swamp. There are clothes waiting for you, folded on another rock. The Lotus Woman helps you sit up. She produces a wood brush and slowly combs your hair, letting the bright, bright sun dry the muddy water away. She carefully rubs you down with a towel that feels like silk and cotton. You look at her, finally, and notice that now she is wearing a red sundress that moves like water, with boots polished like mirrors.
She finishes smoothing you down and helps you into undergarments, blue slacks, a red tee shirt, and boots similar to hers.
"We're going to the healing room," she says, "if you'd like. There will be oil massage and saunas and showers of all kinds. Now that you have your next lotus, I think you'll appreciate the new magic."
You just feel so much bliss, so much joy, so much euphoria, that you only nod and smile widely. She taps her finger on your nose. "Now, don't get excited. That'll fade. We need to make sure it doesn't overwhelm you. It's supposed to become part of you, remember?"
Licking your lips and taking a deep breath, you say, "Yes. I'll remember." Your voice sounds like small bells inside your head.
You hold the Lotus Woman's hand and shield your eyes from the sun with your other hand. She is leading you far from the swamp, but it is all right. You will be back soon, of course.
*
brightlotusmoon: (Snow White Blood Red Dragon Witch)
Okay, so, I need to tell this story... because. Just because. Facebook is a breeding ground for trolls who try and yell at me because I am not like them. So, here is a story.

When I was fifteen years old, leaning toward sixteen, I had a recurring dream. I was married. I was twenty-six. I was in a hospital bed, in labor, and the bed was tilted up so I was kind of sitting. My belly was swollen. Cramps and contractions forced me to bear down, and somehow I knew it was with the same muscles used to move my bowels, except I'd had an enema. I had no idea how the pain was, so in the dream there was extreme pressure with menstrual-type cramps, and I was sobbing. Someone was holding my hand - my husband. I looked at him but his face was shadowed. All I could see was that he had bright blue eyes. I knew his voice was a tenor voice. I cried, "This will kill me. I can feel it. I'm going to die." My husband said, "No, no, sweetheart, you will be fine. What should we name her? Our daughter?" In a fit of pain, I screamed, "Amara. With your grandmother's name in the middle. Amara! Everlasting! Immortal! It will kill me but she will live!"
A doctor told me to PUSH, and I PUSHED, and I very clearly, intensely, felt SOMETHING being pushed through my vagina, something huge... and then it was pulled, PULLED. I was sobbing and screaming and I could feel my hips shattering. A voice said, "Don't cut the cord yet, wait until the fetus takes all the nutrients." And I sobbed softly, "Taking everything. I give myself up."
My husband's tenor voice said over and over, "There she is. I love you." All I could see, through a haze, was a human-shaped thing covered in blood and white goo, squealing like a kitten. "Everlasting immortal voyager through life," I murmured, and I closed my eyes.

I just remember that pressure, that disconnection, the thing TAKEN OUT OF ME, the way I couldn't feel anything below my waist afterward. I don't know if I died. I don't know if I went comatose. I just know that I was twenty-six, my husband had blue eyes and a tenor voice and his name ended in -m, and it was the most horrific experience I could imagine.

And here's the thing: When I was twenty, I met a man with bright blue eyes and a tenor voice, named Adam, with two grandmothers who had names starting with B. One grandmother was named Beatrice - "Voyager Through Life" - and when we dated and considered future kids, he suggested that a girl's middle name could be Beatrice. But then we decided that children were not for us, not after I became so ill with various disabilities.
We got married when I was twenty-six years old. The wedding was one of the most stressful and frightening experiences of my life.

Now, those people insisting that I should have children, that "I would be a wonderful mother" (an insulting slap in my face), might see this as a premonition. It was a premonition. I predicted the person I would marry. I predicted the age at which I would go through an extreme change in my life. I predicted that I would go through an intense, frightening series of medical problems that would change my life.
But it had nothing to do with pregnancy or childbirth. Nothing at all.

This is what I wrote on my Facebook:
"Dear certain people with children who are being very annoying and loud and religiously fervent:
Yes, yes, your children are beautiful and amazing and the greatest creations you have ever created and the absolute loves of your lives and the brightest stars in your sky and your reasons for living and the greatest most talented most gorgeous most intelligent children ever, I get it, I get it. Good for you. I'm thrilled, truly.
Now quit insisting that I must have children of my own. I don't want any. Never wanted. Will never want. Do not want. Medically should not have. I have reasons. I don't care what you think of my reasons. Go away and stop talking about this to me. I don't want children, I don't want to get pregnant, and I don't want to automatically love your baby. If I have to save this and use this as a Standard Response every single time, I shall. Stop telling me I must experience your overwhelming joy, the way you never knew true love and pure happiness before your children. It appears that you are experiencing plenty of overwhelming joy and true love and pure happiness, so you seem to have more than enough. Please enjoy. I will be over there, not being you."

The reason I revealed this dream was to explain that not everything means something literal. And also that I often have precognitive dreams - which is hard to do, since there are so many futures and they're all fluid. Maybe in an alternate reality, I did have a child. But not in this one. Never in this one.
brightlotusmoon: (Peaceful Dragon Model 2)
I need to write this down before I completely forget.
Last night, I had a dream in which I was hanging out with a bunch of Sumerian deities, most of whom I could barely name.
We were setting a mansion on fire, hosing it down, and repeating the process.
Everyone kept calling me "Inanna" instead of Joanna. And I felt so flattered that for some reason I kept floating off the ground. Every time I lifted off the ground, a storm would gather and everyone started acting as though they were in love with everything everywhere, laughing and giggling and acting almost drugged.
Someone told me, "You are the evening star." And I said, "Funny that, I was born right before a midnight when Venus was very blindingly bright. Evening Star used to be one of my nicknames. Now sometimes my dreams call me Moonlight Witch."
And someone else said "Exactly. Do you understand now?" I said, "What? Wait, understand what?"
But everyone just smiled, and as I was pulled back down to earth, the soil became soft enough to drag me down, and I began to sink. It felt soothing and tranquil. I called out, "Don't forget to refurbish that mansion when I get back!" And then I woke up.
Try and interpret that, various dream dictionaries!
brightlotusmoon: (Fae Dragon Alien)
It turns out that I love Bombay Sapphire gin paired with fruit juice. Like, really love it. It smells like spiced rubbing alcohol, but somehow I love it.
Well, then.
I mean, there is no way ever I could drink a lot of it because the cerebral palsy already makes me weird and off balance.
But I suppose the next time I go to a bar, that would be my drink. Bombay Sapphire with cranberry or pomegranate juice. Is that already a named drink? I don't know these things.
All I know is that right now I'm drinking that gin with the juice from canned peaches and it is lovely. And it helps clear up my sore throat.

I keep having dreams in which I am followed by butterflies made from lepidolite, purple tourmaline, kyanite, and lapis lazuli. I run through a wide, shallow, muddy field of pink and purple lotus flowers. I never get anywhere, and gradually the mud slows me down as it flows around my ankles. I feel peaceful and satisfied. I have complete faith that everything will be fine. In my hand appears a rough wand of cognac amber. I clutch it and it glows brighter and brighter. Some of the butterflies are in front of me while others stay behind me, always guiding me... somewhere. The only thing I see is sunset and the amber glow in my hand. In my other hand is a beaded bracelet of citrine. It makes me laugh and laugh. I start dancing, and the flowers and butterflies whirl along. But I never reach any destination, and the gentle mud seeps into my skin, infused with lotus oils, soothing the worst of my pains. I keep laughing; I cannot stop laughing. Abruptly, I spin and fall backwards into mud and flowers, shouting joy, and colors of every taste and sound fall around me. I cry as I laugh and I am filled with both pain and peace until I don't feel my body. I become part of it all, and I feel nothing, I feel everything, I feel ME.
I am the universe and the universe is me.

It could be the gin and the painkillers, who knows...
brightlotusmoon: (Pixie Model 2)
I see color everywhere. I taste color everywhere. I hear, sense, feel, and connect with color. I cannot imagine a world, any world, without color, even in my dreams, even without my eyes. I speak in color. Everything I touch makes me explode in color.

People ask me why I can't use my mild psychic skills to 'heal' myself. I still have trouble explaining exactly why that is not possible. I can only pull, manifest, and manipulate elemental colors and cosmic colors so much.
I do not expect people to know what I mean. My perceptions are my own. However, I know many people who understand what I mean.

"It's something about the color..."
It's always something about the color.

Often, I dream in octarine, the color of magic. Everything is magic, and everything is color, and color shows me the depths of the universe that I cannot fully reach, not until I join that cosmic wave, full of indescribable colors that define what it means to exist.

This is why religion will never work for me. Not enough color. Not enough expansion. Too much external force. I need more color. I need more inside. I need my whole brain, which cannot happen unless the dead white matter and the damaged neurons somehow move again.

I am my own connection to whatever forces move existence. I am responsible for my own existence. My Higher Brain, my Subconscious, my Quantum Psychic Brain, and my Self are working together to create the most intense positive energy I have ever realized.

My transformation will come only from within myself. I am waiting. I am moving in directions that feel so right to me, no matter what external forces claim. I am opening myself to every past hurt, every negative feeling, and shifting them into the light. It it is a constant cycle, and it hurts so much that sometimes I cannot handle it. Meditative techniques are like lifelines.

The important thing is that I keep going. I keep growing. That is what matters. I am following the colors. I am the colors. I am made of light.
brightlotusmoon: (Pixie Model 2)
I am writing this revealing post because my Psychic Quantum Consciousness smacked me with Get Well (apply directly to the forehead) and I am finally feeling human. Ish?

My nap refreshed me slightly. So did pain drugs and herbs.
Then I decided to paint my nails twice over: first with Sally Hansen Nailgrowth Polish in Divine Wine and then with Revlon Top Speed Polish in Dress Code.
The Nailgrowth formula will help my nails grow stronger (biotin, peptides, chondroitin, keratin, silk powder). The Top Speed formula will help my nails stay healthy (minerals, gemstone powders, vitamins, silk powder, keratin).
My nails are shimmery metallic dark violet, with shimmery golden dark red bleeding through beneath. I was surprised by the beauty of Dress Code, which is much more purple than Decadent (indigo violet) and more shimmery. Revlon is really good with nail colors. The fascinating thing is how the dark red and dark violet shades are merging as the polishes finish drying. (I am also pretty sure "Dress Code" may also be named "Violet" as the Revlon site does not have a polish color called Dress Code in the Top Speed line, but the shade Violet looks exactly like Dress Code.)
http://www.drugstore.com/sally-hansen-nailgrowth-miracle-nail-color-divine-wine/qxp348841?catid=196092
http://www.drugstore.com/revlon-top-speed-fast-dry-nail-enamel-violet-670/qxp331984?catid=183598
I had also applied makeup this afternoon, since brightening concealer used as foundation and dark red lipgloss made me look a little less ill and exhausted. I felt like an alien, but a pretty alien.

Beautiful colors do help take my mind of how terrible I am feeling.
Eventually I will stop feeling terrible and start feeling, um, in less pain? and now I am finally, finally starting to climb out of this bizarre depressive episode that has been like a rabbit hole lined with steel thorns.
Combined with one of the most severe fibromyalgia attacks in recent months or even years plus attacks from the various sydromes associated with spastic ataxic cerebral palsy, the depression shattered me for quite a while. I am deeply grateful that it began lifting just as I desperately wanted to lie on my psychic battlefield in a deep pool of my own psychic blood, too tired and too drained to keep fighting, willing to let my pain monsters grab me and take me like a trophy to wherever they live when not hunting. I didn't feel alarmed enough to call my doctors, I just felt desperate to sleep for a day straight until I felt human again. I honestly don't know what it's like to feel so darkly depressed, but I would probably admit I was getting fairly close.

All I can say is that I really am feeling better, covered in sunlight and moonlight with healing powers, since I am a witch and a pagan after all. And I can thank every friend I have for helping me, whether they knew it or not. And I can also thank my Higher Brain and my Subconscious combined, which I like to call the Psychic Quantum Consciousness, because quantum brains are cool.

See this entry for various explanations and stuff: http://brightrosefox.livejournal.com/1570608.html

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brightlotusmoon

March 2015

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