Dreams teach . . .

. . .and sometimes I learn things about myself, or have things confirmed that I'd known or suspected.  The last two nights are no exception.  And somehow I feel as though I've been tested and passed muster.  I have my suspicions there, but I'll keep those cards close to my vest as they say.  A least for the nonce.

Anyway, back to my dreams.  Or should I say nightmares.  They have been such a constant part of my life for so many years it's hard to say anymore where the line between dreams and nightmares exists, or even if it does.  I oft wonder if it is not so much a line as much a matter of degree?

Night before last I was out walking somewhere, in a city I'm not familiar with, when I was accosted by a complete stranger that decided I was not at home raising children doting on my husband like I was supposed to be. He decided I was evil because I wasn't sufficiently (or at all) cowed by his presence.  He warned me that God had given him the right, the duty, to smite me if need be.  Maybe I should have been showing the fear and terror of being put upon by this person that I was feeling or something, but instead I looked at him and said I seriously doubt you are permitted by God to smite me.  That is not the way God works.  Some more words of madness from him and finally I said, "Fine, you and I don't agree, I get that, and you feel you have to smite me, I get that too.  Before we get to the smiting part of our program can I just mention that with great power comes great responsibility?  And that it might be possible that while the lighting flashed and the sparks showered in one blink of your eyes you had had missed seeing?  That I could not be responsible for actions you take, only my own?  'The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore, Here no bull can hide?'"  In a moment that felt much like Yosemite Sam facing off against Bugs Bunny he bellowed "Enough nonsense woman, prepare to meet your maker!"

I simply said "I put no distance between myself and where I am, what of you?  If smiting me is what you plan to do, might I suggest you just get on with it and stop wasting both of our time?"

I watched as his hands began to glow and thought it strange, after all, as a healer I could do the same thing but would never think to use it to harm another being.  So I set my hands to glowing and increased my own shielding against negative energy.  At which point his eyes took on an intensity that almost reminded me of a Stargate universe Goa'uld and I thought "ah, false gods," as a massive amount of energy poured out of the heavens in my direction, hit my shielding and enveloped him.  It wasn't pretty from there.  I felt slightly guilty, like I should have perhaps shielded him as well and dissipated the blast harmlessly, but it was to late for that and I awoke shaken from my encounter with an agent of a false god.

So last night was an even longer, more involved nightmare typical of many, if not most of mine.  I'm being chased by people that wish to harm me, captured, and then forced to work on their behalf to do things they wanted me to all while threatening to hurt or kill me if I didn't do just what they wanted, the way they wanted.  Over the course of several days things came to a head with one of the leaders of these people falling seriously ill.  My own nature was to help him, heal him is I could, and prevent harm from coming to him.  So again I lit up my hands and encouraged one of the people with me, who was also being held against her will, to help with the healing as well.  One of the other people stood there stunned and said "We were most likely going to kill you when we were done with you, why do you willingly help heal someone who is going to kill you?"

I pointed out that it was not my job to be his judge, jury and executioner, and not my nature to refuse to help someone based on a judgement call of such magnitude.  Mine is not to decide another's fate, mine is only to lessen if at all possible suffering and to use my gifts for the greater good.  To sit back and watch him die was not in my nature, regardless of what was in his.  I was already suffering at his hands, and letting him die would not change what I'd experienced.

Awakening from this dream I felt as though I'd passed some sort of test.  I was also reminded of why despite the way Earl and his parents were treating me, I still fought tirelessly to help him heal and grow.  How despite my own subjective distress I could remain objective in my care and treatment of Earl.

I am Buddhist person.  Not because of what I say, but because of what I do.  I am Buddhist person not because of the preaching or pronouncements of myself, my god or others, but because of the path I walk.  These two dreams helped me to remember what I've known all along but had been distracted from.  Sleep is one of the ultimate forms of meditation, and through dreams, we learn or are reminded of what we already know.

Buddhism to me is much less a form or religion in the common use of the word, and certainly not deist, or dogmatic in anyway, but a method of navigating the great path.  I follow no one, practice no "rituals" other than perhaps meditation if one could call that a ritual, and I choose not to lead.  Buddha teaches that all is illusion, and not to believe in him or what he says, but to find our path to enlightenment and walk it ourselves just as he has done.  Zen Buddhism, which is littered in my remarks above, has only Koans to meditate upon, things to ponder and take from them what we may.  Things like:

"The river tells no lies, yet standing at it's shores the dishonest man still hears them"

and

"If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, the meal was cooked a long time ago."

So there is little or no chance of being locked into dogmatic thinking, or a set of sound bites or bullet points to shout from a position of self importance.  In Zen Buddhist, nothing is a given and everything is possible.  The "four noble truths for example do not exist as things set in stone, but as reminders of a place and time that flavored the thinking and experiences of the person who shared them.  That even the eightfold path as right as it can be, is not the be all and end all of Buddhist experience on the road to the great path.

"All roads lead to the great path, many cross."

And dreams, be they during sleep, or while in deep meditation, can and often do teach . . .

Passing days, and memories. . .

Earl was a bastard, there is no nice way to say it, he was controlling, abusive, cruel and so much more. He was exactly the same man I married nine years ago today. On our wedding day he was more than just rude and an obnoxious jerk to my sister and a friend, he was violent and abusive.

He was also, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, my husband and I failed him and myself.

His illnesses took him from us, from me, long before his death April 10th of 2006. Gender Dysphoria, A co-dependant, abusive relationship with his parents, diabetes, kidney failure due to high blood pressure, which was due to the stress on his heart and soul of living so profound a lie.

I've "learned" to hate him over time, to "see" how this wasn't my fault, why I shouldn't feel ashamed and a waste of life. But you see this is the crux of the problem, feelings don't always make sense. I spent the better part of my adult life controlling, or trying to, my FEELINGS to the point that it nearly took my life too! I've "learned" that I did what I must to survive, to live, to "protect and serve" my own life. To for once, nurture my own heart, mind, body and soul, allowing myself to be first for a change.

It still isn't easy. I still LOVE that man who was so bad for me, to me, that I am damaged. Well past a "Christmas cake" I'm the old woman down the lane no-one knows and no-one misses. I hurt, so much, and so deep, that I worry I'll never be able to love again. I'm damaged so badly that sleep without tranquilizers and sleeping pills is just a rumor, something other people do, and the thought of allowing anyone too close to me makes my already cold blood freeze solid with terror.

The days pass, and endless stream of tomorrows to muddy with the pain of my heart and soul. The memories however seem to go on forever. All at once I hate this man who violated me, took my heart, mind, body and soul from me and made me unclean, and yet. If he were to walk through the door right now I'd probably go back to waiting on him hand and foot, taking his violence and abuse as if it were my penance for having sinned so badly in my last life.

Today would have been nine years . . . Nine years of violence and pain I am trying so hard to escape. Nine years of betrayal and death of dreams, nine years since I gave this man my heart, mind, body, soul and innocence. I hate him, I love him, and I feel every bit like a drug or alcohol addict must.

She was born with her mother’s habit,
You could say it’s in her blood,
She hates that she’s got to have it,
As she fills her glass up,

She’d love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a better life, a second chance,
And everyone she’s letting down,
She throws that bottle down,

One day, I hope, I pray, I will be that woman. I will throw down the bottle of pain and memory that poisons me.

Don’t give up hope,
Some people change,
Against all odds,
Against the grain,
Love finds a way,
Some people change.

Thank God for those who make it,
Let them be the light,

I pray one day I will be one of these people, that I'll have changed enough to allow Love back into my heart and life, that I'll be able to let someone close to me, to touch me, to hold me, to love me without recoiling in fear and terror.

The days continue to march on, and I'm still here. Slowly growing, changing, healing, and praying for more miracles in my life. The memories however remain, haunt me, taunt me, threatening to tear down what is left of me.

I just cannot give up hope, it is all that sustains me some times . . . Now however I need some Chocolate and some sleep . . .

Today would have been, was nine years . . . I miss him, I miss us, I morn for what might have been, and children thankfully un-born. I morn life . . .