"I'm gonna fucking walk around naked too," Hadj says from the other room as a way of finishing his thought. His bathrobe is taking on the scent of white vinegar which keeps bacteria away from skin that's lacking a shower and, he swears, smells like salad.
I feel I can't. I can't write. I can't let go. Bitterness is biting at my heels. I've had enough. I don't want to be here. What is all this? What does it mean? What can I even do to help myself though this? Fear is bearing down on me. I want love to fill my heart. What I hear is a siren.
I remember my dream from last night:
I live alone in a basement apartment. I am home putzing around. I grab my purse and keys and go out. I unlock the passenger side of my car and get in. I am intending to scoot over to the driver's seat. Before I can do this a man gets in the car and starts driving. He is silent. I don't even see his face. Fear begins flooding me. The man is driving toward a highway entrance. I don't know what he wants with me or where he is going. He enters the ramp to the highway. I open my door and fall out onto the road, hoping to land on my ass. I land, feeling only adrenaline. I stand as quickly as I can. Two cars pass me on the road. It feels like they are inches from hitting me. I feel invisible and panicked. I am wondering where help is. I jump up and down screaming for help. Cars drive pass seeming not to notice.
I have walked back home carrying nothing. My purse is in my car, which the man drove off in. My cell phone and wallet are there too. I pick up my home phone and call my partner. My mouth feels dry and swollen and I can make no sensible words. I feel hysterical. He cannot understand what I am trying to say. He is in Washington whereas I am in Chicago. I realize I need to call the police. I hang up and dial 9-1-1. When the line is answered I can hear only broken background noise. There is no one to talk to. I try dialing 9-1-1 twice more and everytime there is only empty
background noise with no help forthcoming. I hang up, feeling lost and desperate. I want to call my partner back, but realize I can't. Having relied on my cell phone memory, I don't have his number in my head. I can't push redial and get him. My desperation and dry mouthed silence seem to increase.
My front door suddenly bursts open and people I know are love are streaming
in. First I see my mom and dad who are followed by friends and then media people. I try telling my story, but my panic is so great and my mouth so dry that no discernable words come out. I collapse into hugging my father.
As I am waking I realize that I am still panicked, but that I can now choose not to be. I am safe. I am surrounded by help. I will be ok. When I wake I have to choose if I had a bad dream or a good one. It felt like a nightmare, but I realized I was safe and loved.
I woke by hugging my partner tight and telling him I had a bad dream.
All around me the universe has been reminding me of love. I received a letter from an energy working peer. She told me she received a message for me in her meditations. The message she relayed was this:
Another example of the help that is beckoning me back to the golden light of love are the last few lines from my favorite astrologer for this week:
I saw that you had begun a dance, and in the process of the dance you had stopped because you could not remember the next movement.
The message is feel the current of love surround you, within that current is the power of my love. As your hands move throughout that current they gain the power of my love - they can only move the way they should move. Continue as your heart leads you because that is the only way you can go, when it is the right course there is no resistance.
[F]ollow your heart when it tells you to be bigger, bolder, and brasher than ever before. Right now, shiny intensity is your sacred duty!Intellectually I know what to do. To succeed I have to listen to my heart. My heart and my intellect do not always coincide. From a "Rent" song that spoke to me early this week:
I am a quite person in the middle of a loud surround. I crave a mixture of peace and ecstasy; simplicity and challenge. Today, instead of writing here about my riding crop bruises which helped me blow off steam, my mom's daily funny comments, or the bathroom my partner and I are 70% done rebuilding, I will be working in my parents' basement in happy solitude. I will listen to music, open up my heart, and dance like no one's watching.
Listen, I find some of what you teach suspect, because I'm used to relying on intellect, but I try to open up to what I don't know.
Another one of my favored contradictions: I prefer to dance like no one is watching, but I kind-of hope someone is.