Author: Melody

I am a crafter, artist and blogger/writer. My paintings can be found on www.MelodyErickson.com. My official blog site is www.MelErickson.com. I have several other things in the works as well. Great things are happening!

Dream: Getting Ready to Date

I am in a room full of people who are watching a live music performance. The room is set up with performance seating in front of the stage, then a wide aisle way between that seating and some random tables at the back.

I have been standing with a small group in the table section, but I decide I’d like to move closer to the stage so I can focus on listening to the music.

I don’t want to sit in the performance seating – it’s too crowded there. I see three folding chairs that have been lined up at the back of the aisle way between the seating and the tables. I sit in the chair on the left. After a minute, my friend George sits in the chair just to my right, but then shortly after asks if I will mind if he moves to the seating closer to the stage. I tell him to go ahead – I’m fine being here on my own. Just then I notice a very attractive, petite woman has taken the third seat, furthest to the right. George’s empty seat is between us. I turn my attention to the musicians on stage.

After a few minutes I turn my gaze to the right side of the room, scanning from the stage toward the front of the room. My eyes meet a guy whom I have met before (within the context of this dream) several times. It flashes to me at this time that each time has been just a quick encounter, and always with a strong feeling of connection. He is walking from the front of the room to the back, apparently on a mission, but when our eyes meet, he stops, backs up, and heads toward me. Big smile on his face. I smile in return. I am pleased he is happy to see me. He is tall, reasonably fit, with blonde hair and bright eyes. As he approaches, he literally crawls over the petite woman seated two chairs over and then onto the chair next to me. He is now lying, stomach down, with his legs on the woman and his torso on the other chair, propped up on his elbows. Somehow this puts his face at the same level with mine. I do not notice any expression or reaction from the other woman. My eyes are locked with Blondie’s. He leans toward me and plants a very deliberate, solid kiss on my lips, holding it for a few seconds for emphasis. When he pulls away, still smiling, he says, “Hello.” I say “Hello.” (smiling)

Now I am in a room upstairs, with my ex. We have been “just friends” for quite awhile, but he has always had a hard time with that. Ex is always wanting to “hang out” with me, and people who see us together assume we’re dating. This concerns me now (in my dream) because Blondie is downstairs and I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.

I do my best to convince Ex that he needs to leave; I want to spend this evening with my friends (who are not directly his friends). I tell him that I have met someone I may want to date, and I don’t want it to be awkward for him. He agrees to leave. I follow him down the stairs, and at the landing he pauses to chat with a couple of random people. Just as I reach the landing, he sobs, “My friend and I just broke up!” and then turns and leaves the building.

I am panicked, as my eyes search the room for Blondie. Where is he? Did he hear? Is there a need for damage control?

End of dream

OBSERVATIONS

This one is obvious to me – and I’m sure to anyone else reading. I am finally ready to date. But – it’s been three years since I moved out of my Ex’s house, and he is still hanging around and demanding my attention. While I will admit that I allowed lines to be crossed a couple of times in the first year or two, I have been very firm on boundaries for well over a year. It is an exhausting role at times, but I now know I cannot go back. That door has closed for me completely. I love my Ex. I genuinely care about what happens to him, and enjoy his company now and then. I am not “in love” with my Ex. I am ready to move forward into a new relationship.

I’m sure George is a part of this dream because the day after a recent party at my home, I got a text from my Ex asking if George was my new “boy toy.” I assured him he was not, and Ex said, “Okay, just wanting to get a lay of the land.”

It appears I won’t be able to date with my Ex still in my life. This may sound like a no-brainer to most, but I know people who have been able to stay friends of their ex’s. I guess it’s just not for me.

Coming Back Around To Letting Go

I never want to hurt anyone – even those who have hurt me. That’s not to say that I never do hurt anyone – only that it is never my intention to do so.

This is one of the reasons I am coming back around to letting go. Also:

  1. We’re not going anywhere
  2. I’m not “all in” – not fair to you
  3. I’ve been physically sick in some manner ever since I opened that door a crack (for the second time I might add) and you began wedging your foot into it, pushing sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully, trying to “gain purchase” into my life again. I said over and over “there won’t be a ’round three’,” and then I opened the door a crack.

It’s going to hurt for a minute – maybe longer – but I’ll be unwedging your foot now. It’s getting cold in here.

Repressed Grief

Watching the movie P.S. I Love You on TV.  About 40 minutes in I break into a major crying jag. First, the movie is really, really, sad. It’s about a young couple who have been married 9 years when the man gets a brain tumor and dies.  Shortly after, on the woman’s 30th birthday, she learns that her dead husband has arranged for her to receive letters from him at various intervals for the foreseeable future.

It was at the memorial service scene where I broke down. Nobody close to me as died recently, so why did it affect me so strongly?  I felt the pain and emptiness that comes with the loss of – someone in my life. It doesn’t take a death to cause that feeling. There are many losses that can hurt just as deeply.

I watched the movie the day after I had been locked out of my apartment because of an apartment fire in another unit in the building. I had not been home at the time of the fire and by the time I got home the fire had been put out and all emergency personnel had left the scene. I didn’t have any idea anything had happened while I was away. There were no notices posted anywhere and I had not received a phone call or an email. I had no clue. I found out about the fire because my garage door wouldn’t open.  I keep the privacy lock on at my front door because I always come and go through my garage. My apartment was locked down from the inside. I called the after hours maintenance contact, who filled me in about the fire and said that power had been cut off to my garage. Nice.

To top it off, instead of coming out to take care of my issue, Maintenance Guy sent an office resource to handle the job, and after an hour and a half, Office Boy had made no progress and had headed off to some undisclosed location to get something, and after ten minutes had not returned. So I called the after hours number again and left the message that it was after midnight so I was getting myself a hotel room and would present them with the invoice in the morning.

At around 7 a.m. the next morning I drove back to my apartment to see if they had by some miracle figured out how to open my garage door. They hadn’t. The leasing office at my complex normally opens at 9:00 a.m. during the week. I stopped by the leasing office to see if someone may have come in early to manage my issue. Nope. I drove back to my hotel, had breakfast, and then left a message with the leasing office asking that they call me as they are in so they could share with me their plan of action. Nobody called.

I drove back to the office at 9. When one of the other office staff members greeted me at the door I stated my name and apartment number. No recognition. I explained that I had been locked out of my apartment all night and stayed in a hotel. I handed her the invoice. Across the room I saw Office Boy. He clearly had not told anyone what had happened the night before.  Neither had Maintenance Guy. Really?

I was told I would have to wait to see the Office Manager because she was currently speaking with another tenant who had been affected by the fire. The tenant lived in the apartment below the unit where the fire occurred. She had experienced water damage. But she had still been able to get into her apartment and sleep in her own bed.

When I was ushered over to Office Manager, I shoved the hotel invoice at her and told her my story. She apologized profusely. She had had no idea this had happened. Clearly, but there was no excuse for that. She offered to have the amount of my hotel stay deducted from my next month’s rent. “Not acceptable,” I told her. I had just paid my rent for the month and wasn’t interested in waiting around for a month to get my money back. She said she would have to call “Corporate” and she would do her best to get me what I wanted.

I left the office still angry and feeling patronized…but also feeling something else. Helplessness…neglect. I had showered at the hotel, but had had to dress in the same clothes from the day before – don’t ask about my underwear. I couldn’t go to work that way. What was I supposed to do?

I drove to the parking garage at my job, turned off my car and sat for a minute. My phone rang. It was Office Manager. Did I know my garage door was open, she asked? Had I gone over that way when I left the leasing office? “No,” I told her. “You said your maintenance supervisor was just on his way over.” “Well, the door is open already,” she said. “You can get into your apartment now.”

Fast forward to the end of the day. I spoke with a lawyer who said I should take the offer to credit the hotel bill against my next month’s rent.  Sigh. But, good news (relatively speaking), I have a brand new garage door opener (something about “the  event” had damaged the wiring in the previous opener). And the leasing office’s Corporate office approved an immediate refund of my hotel expense. Vindication.

Back to the movie which I’m watching at the end of a day of feeling angry, patronized, frustrated and…helpless. So of course I would be a little extra emotional watching a very sad movie. But it’s more than that. What had this story of loss triggered inside of me? Which wound had it ripped open, jagged edges inflamed and leaking fresh blood? The feeling was so familiar.

It was the sense of helplessness on being locked out of my home twice while living with my alcoholic boyfriend because he was passed out drunk inside and had locked the house from the inside. Both times there was nothing I could do to get in except break a window, which would have wakened the neighborhood, or call the police (which would also wake the neighborhood and also intensify the sense of humiliation associated with the situation.)  I chose to find another place to spend the night.

It was the hurt of knowing that no matter how much love I showed my boyfriend and how genuinely loving and caring he was toward me when he was sober, he was still willing to lie to me when he was drunk. He would lie about being drunk and never lost his determination to defend himself against all reason. It felt insulting to me.

It was also the sense of loss I felt after finally leaving my alcoholic boyfriend and then attempting to remain friends with him so I can support him through his journey to sobriety…something he wasn’t willing to do while I was still the romantic interest in his life. There is still a big hole in my soul for losing my best friend to alcohol. It’s a hole I’ve been reluctant to try to fill again. I have had one date in the year and a half since I moved out. I just don’t have it in me to go another round.  I guess I have some work to do myself.

Dream: Late For The Wedding

This was a dream within a dream. In the dream I dreamt that I was to be the bridesmaid in a wedding and on the day of the wedding kept getting delayed in one way or another…going down the wrong street, getting lost, passing streets and doorways that I should have been familiar with…and sliding in just in time, but other members of the wedding party had had to do much of what I felt was my responsibility as the maid of honor.

In this dream, I awoke and realized it was a dream and was very relieved, because I was, in fact, to be the maid of honor in a wedding. And as luck would have it, I proceeded to have the same experience as I had dreamt (in my dream)…getting lost, missing obvious signposts and doorways, etc., and getting to the wedding almost too late.

Peppered throughout my dream were references to people from my past with whom I have not kept in touch. One specifically was a guy who had reported to me at one time and in this dream (the second version, where I was supposedly awake), he was along for the ride, trying to help me, but not able to help which I believe is because I was “calling the shots” and not following his suggestions. He just laid low and let me go through my motions and was always there along the way, even as I arrived at the location of the wedding, obviously very late.

OBSERVATIONS:

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my writing and the fact that I haven’t published “my book” yet…and that I’m now 50 years old, and hoping I’ll get my act together and regain my focus soon because I feel my time is running out. I’m 50. People in my “circle” are beginning to drop off, and I wonder if I’ve wasted too much of my time. Am I “too late for the wedding?”

In my dream people are depending on my and I’m not getting to the place I need to be. Is that a suggestion that I – in my non-dream life – am not getting to the place I need to be?

Lately the first lines of a poem I wrote when I was a 14 keeps running through my head. “Poor Sadie was a simple child, her parents died so young. She thought her sad life over before it had begun.” I wonder if it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I hope not.

Sadie

Poor Sadie was a simple child, her parents died so young;

She thought her sad life over before it had begun.

She lived through all her writings, the thoughts she held inside;

But if someone should come near, her feelings she would hide.

She wrote of things that pleased her and things misunderstood;

Hoping that somehow, someday, her thoughts would do some good.

She thought so much her head ached, but she wrote down every line;

And if a thought was hidden it came to her in time.

As she grew her thoughts expanded with every passing day;

And she carefully thought each detail as she wrote her life away.

She wrote like this for years, though it seemed so short a time;

For life was such a word, that it needed more than lines.

And when her time had come, she noticed much too late;

Her words had helped no one, and age had closed the gate.

What she had left were feelings, in her attic to remain;

And so poor Sadie left this world as quietly as she came.

Dream: He Doesn’t Need Me Anymore

Though I don’t really know them, within the context of my dream, the people I was with were co-workers. We’re traveling back to (office? party location?) where we started our trip and we’re all in a yellow school bus. As we drive along, I see along the side of the road, my ex “John,” who (in my dream) I know has some sort of debilitating disease – something like MS – so that he’s in a wheelchair – slowly losing muscle control over a period of time. When he was healthy he was very athletic (in real life he’s an avid bicyclist).

In this roadside scene, John is out for a “ride/race” in his wheelchair and has gotten as far as he can considering the road conditions, so he has stopped and making his way into some other sort of box with wheels contraption, which I understand to be a kind of transfer vehicle to get him past whatever is in his way in the road. There are people there helping him. (That is the key message here, by the way.) As we pass him in our bus I see him, but don’t tell anyone I know him or that I’ve noticed him. But…I immediately begin to worry about him and feel guilty about not being there for him.

After we arrive back to our base location (office/party location) I find myself on my own – other co-workers are congregating in another area of the space – so I feel like it will be safe for me to “wander” downtown to the area where I expect John to be…so I can check up on him and make sure he’s okay. I know where he lives – in an old apartment downtown. The town in my dream is older and the apartments seem a bit run down there. John lives in a second floor apartment – over a bar. (Interesting, since in real life “John” is an alcoholic.)

As I head down the street to search out John, I’m taking a “back alley” or back hallway kind of route. It’s kind of a street fair atmosphere…there are lots of vignettes of carnival-like things and I stop at some on the way, but I’m mostly looking in from the back side of them or wandering through them, but not really participating. I have a sense of being invisible/behind the scenes so the people who are participating don’t know I’m there.

About half way there I run into a (true) former co-worker of mine. I see her inside one of the carnival vignettes and think to myself that…since she’s alone…maybe it would be safe to reveal myself to her so I would have someone to talk to about…things. I approach her and we begin talking…about nothing in particular…and we continue moving together down the street, but now we’re actually in the streets as we go.

———————————————————-

I don’t think I ever make it to John, but the general feeling around this dream was that I was feeling guilty for not “being there” for John, but at the same time, I knew there were other people helping him along and so he was doing just fine without me.

Dream: My Art Show

I’m going to have an art show with just my work in my house, which has several rooms in it. There is a large main room where the art will be displayed – on a large table placed in the center of the room. I have a couple paintings on easels there but have not fully set up my display, as I have other details to attend to…food, etc. to be coordinated. I have “hired” another artist to stay in a smaller room where guests will enter and leave and presumably, pay for their purchases. He arrives and I leave him to get situated in that space. Meanwhile I’m still busy with lots of detailed related to hosting people in my home but have not yet gotten my art set up. People are arriving and now I’m busier than ever.

In my frenzy I make a pass through the small “check in / check out” room and find that the artist has set up his artwork on the tables in the room where he is supposed to be setting up for guest sign in and cash out. I am furious and choose to relieve him of his duties, presumably sending him on his way. The dream never gets that far, but as I’m arguing with the artist and reprimanding him for his actions I am fully aware that I have not gotten my own display set up and people are beginning to leave without having even viewed my art.

THOUGHTS:
I spend so much time always preparing the “business” side of things that I don’t get around to creating my art, much less finding opportunities to display it.

Dream: Just Ask For Something Different

I’m in a looping dream – like the movie “Ground Hog Day.” It is a short loop that begins with me running from a “bad guy” and ends with him shooting me in the foot – or more specifically, in my toes. Every time. Each time I cycle through this dream loop I know what is going to happen but feel powerless to change it. I just repeatedly go through the anxiety of knowing the bad guy is going to shoot me every time.

After several rounds of this I finally do something different. This time I’m near the end of a loop (just before the bad guy shoots me) and I say out loud, “anything different, just so I don’t get shot.” This time I get away from the bad guy before he shoots me. I wake up to spasms in the toes on one foot.

THOUGHTS:
When my life is in an endless loop of the same thing over and over, all I have to do is ask for something different. I know it works because I’ve done it before. So, why am I hesitating to do it again?

The most recent (significant) example of this working for me was last summer. Shortly before I gave notice at my job I spent one evening saying over and over, “I don’t care what kind of work I do, as long as I enjoy it.” A few days after I gave notice my manager pulled me aside and offered me another role on our team – one that could potentially make a difference in at least some of the areas that had caused me to feel frustration.

Call To Action

I received a message the other day, but I didn’t hear it until now. I didn’t feel it.

It was a call from my mother’s cousin “Barb”, whom I’ve never met nor spoken with in my life. Barb was reaching out to me in hopes I might be able to get her in touch with my mother’s brother – her cousin. She got to me through my sister, whom she met at my mother’s funeral several years ago. (Why I wasn’t at my mother’s funeral is a story for another time.)

Sadly, I wasn’t able to connect her with her cousin – my uncle – because, as my mother explained to me when I was twelve, her family disowned her (and the rest of us) when she divorced my father. She went on to explain that her brothers were both very religious and so they didn’t believe in divorce. So…I was disowned by my mother’s family at the age of twelve because of a disagreement between my mother and her brothers. Sounds fair.

Barb and I talked for over an hour, and as it turns out we have a few things in common, i.e., her father discouraged/prevented her from communicating with her extended family; we both married quite young and subsequently divorced and then spent most of our adult lives single, feeling we were better off being fully responsible for our own destinies (or at least as much as one can be).

I believe things happen for a reason – and so, since Barb’s call last Sunday evening, I’ve been turning this over in my head trying to figure it out. Why me? Why now?

In the course of a morning meditation, it came to me:

For over ten years I’ve been sitting on a family-related project – my memoir. Over the years I’ve gone back and forth from feeling the story should be told to feeling I should keep it to myself. I thought I had put that argument to bed a few years ago, but now here it is again.

Since my early teens I’ve felt my purpose in this world was to write. So far I’ve not been successful at my attempts to erase the “you can’t earn a living as a writer” tape that has been running a continuous loop in my head since I first had the audacity to share my dream with my family some thirty years ago – trusting that they would be supportive.

But here’s the thing: I don’t just think I should be a writer. I know that I am a writer. And yet I find myself still working a corporate job (where, by the way, I write…business requirements).

The idea of going out on my own has been spinning in my brain for…ever. I have had two separate opportunities to transition into “self-supporting artist/writer” in the last ten years, but I’ve never felt really, truly ready, and so in both cases I spun my wheels in various other directions rather than focusing my energy on the thing I was put on earth to do.

So what’s holding me up from going out on my own? Whatever it is, I need to get over it. I feel that if I don’t take action now I never will. I turn 50 this year. It’s shit or get off the pot time, kids!

I’ve got a story to tell. I believe Barb’s call was yet another nudge from the Universe. It’s time for me to take that manuscript down off the shelf, dust it off and get back to work! My life story is one that should be told. If for no other reason, because I need to tell it!

(It should be noted that I actually wrote this piece on 6/29/11. I’m just now posting it on 5/12/12. ‘Nuf said.)

Dream: In Another Woman’s Body/Life

I am in a house that is not familiar. There’s a man in the house that I sense is my husband, but he doesn’t look familiar. He’s kind of nerdy looking, and I know the man I’m in a relationship with does not look nerdy. I get the sense that I have entered someone else’s body. This woman (the nerdy man’s wife) has straight blond hair. She is medium build. I must have seen pictures of the two of them together, but I also get a sense of her personality. She is a partier. She likes to drink a lot and carry on loudly with friends. Not like me at all. The man is balding with a slight pot belly. He’s not very tall – I’m guessing shorter than me, but I can’t be sure because I’m sitting. He is wearing drooping, khaki slacks and a yellow plaid short sleeved button down shirt over a white t-shirt.

I am sure the man doesn’t know what is happening, so I feel I should play along until I figure things out. I am sitting in a chair in the kitchen of the home; he has just entered a door from outside and is standing now just inside the door and a few feet away from me. There is at least one other person in the room with us and there is a conversation going on. I’m just sitting – not speaking – and observing him. I try to imagine if I could ever have an emotional bond with him; ever find him attractive. I don’t think so, but again, feel I should play along. We make eye contact, and he moves toward me. It seems like he has just come home and I’m wondering how he customarily greets his wife whose body I am inhabiting, so I hold my hand out toward him as he walks by my chair and he reaches out with his hand, giving mine a squeeze as he continues by. I get a warm feeling from the gesture, as his grip lingers for a second, and then he continues on his way, presumably to do whatever he does when he first arrives home at the end of each day.

Now I’m up and moving toward him in a room that feels like a living room. He says something to me and I respond. I don’t know what was said, but the end result is that I must go to the master bedroom to get something. I walk into another room at the back of the house only to discover it is not the master bedroom as I had expected. It is a mostly empty room with a workout bench on one side. I think to myself that I must recover quickly from this mistake before he notices. I come out of the room and my path back toward the living room brings to my attention a stairway that I must have walked past on my way by, but did not notice before. I think to myself that our bedroom must be upstairs, so I head up. He asks why I was in the other room and I tell him I thought I had left something in there. I head up the stairs to find the master bedroom.

In the next scene, I am on the phone with someone who I apparently know in my “real” life. I’m telling her about my dilemma – being in someone else’s body and not knowing why, wondering if I’ll make it back to my body or if I should work toward figuring out how to “be” this new person. I presume the woman whose body I’m inhabiting is now inhabiting mine. I assume everyone in this new life is seeing me as her (her body) even though I see me as myself. I hang up.

Next scene, I’ve shared my story with the man and he is understanding. He says he knew something was different about me by the way I had been acting / reacting to things. It feels like he is going to be supportive of me no matter what. Interesting observation that I didn’t get a sense that he was feeling a loss over his wife being displaced from her body. Instead, he was just as calm as could be and supportive of whatever I felt I needed to do.

When I awoke from the dream I was a bit disappointed. I wanted to see where this adventure was going. I thought maybe it could be a good premise for a fiction book. It’s been done before, but not exactly like this.

THOUGHTS:
My thoughts as I write this are that I am working toward major changes in my life around work, friends, family and romantic relationships. All of that would feel very much like stepping into someone else’s life. While the feeling in my dream was that I was taking a step back socially and economically (older home, geeky looking husband), it felt like something I could manage and would probably be very happy with. I got a sense of much love coming from the man, before and after I shared with him my story. It was a very comforting feeling being in the dream – after the initial confusion.

The idea that I would inhabit a partier’s body may represent a change I feel I need to make. While I’m not a big partier, I do drink more than I should at times. While I was in the strange woman’s body I felt calm and it seemed like a big contrast when put against the impression I had of her.

Mid-Slumber Visitors

I’ve had a few “mid-slumber visitors” recently. Each time I’m awakened by a noise of some sort. I feel like I’ve been in a deep sleep, but I’m suddenly awake and my eyes are directed to the place in my room where the noise has originated. There sometimes is also a visual queue – an image of someone or something while I’m still in my dream state just prior to being startled awake.

In my first experience, which occurred some time last week, there was no vision – at least not that I can remember – but just a very distinct noise. The noise was like the creaking sound a wicker basket might make if you sat on it. I was instantly awake and my eyes were on the woven seagrass clothes hamper by the window. Of course no one was there – just the two sham-covered pillows I lay on top of it every night before climbing into bed. I considered asking “What do you want?” but was too tired. My curiosity was not as strong as my desire for sleep. I rolled over, tossed around the idea of communicating for about another 10 seconds and then fell back into a deep sleep.

The next experience, earlier this week, included a vision of…something or someone…I don’t recall the image or really have any impression of it…I just know there was an image. And then a noise shocked me awake. This time the noise wasn’t anything I could define as belonging in my bedroom, as in the creaking of the hamper. The sound this time was more like a “pop.” And this time I “felt” a presence in the room – but just for an instant. My eyes were aimed at the corner of the room – where the noise seemed to have originated – but no one was there. Once again sleep won over any urge to explore the situation.

Last evening it happened again. This time I know the image that appeared in my mind before I was jolted awake was a person. And this time, when my eyes shot open they were aimed at the foot of my bed where I got the impression of the shadow of a person just fading away. They were not standing at the foot of my bed, but sort of floating over it in a way. It was almost like they had been sitting on the end of my bed slightly turned to their left so they could watch me. When my eyes popped open they faded away. I also got the sense that this presence was male.

These sorts of experiences have happened for me before, but not in many years. In those earlier visits I always felt the presence must be my mother. In one instance I was awakened by the kind of movement your mattress makes when someone sits down on the edge of the bed. When my eyes opened I had the impression of my mother, seated there – and then it faded. Another time I awoke feeling she had been standing at the foot of my bed.

Fear is never a component of these events – just a realization that someone is out there. I’m never sure if they’re wanting to communicate a specific message or if they just want me to know they’re watching. But I never feel threatened by them.

In my recent visits, my most immediate thought after realizing what just happened is, “I’m so tired! Why did they wake me?” I suppose at some point I’ll get around to asking them that question.

What triggers these sorts of experiences? I believe that when we begin to open up and expand ourselves spiritually, we open the channels that connect us more closely to our Spirit Guides. Back when my mother was visiting I was in that zone. I spent several years there, but eventually I shut down spiritually in favor of exploring a relationship. At the time I did not know I was choosing one over the other. Intellectually I knew even then that relationship and spirituality should not be mutually exclusive options, but that is how it worked out in this case.

The individual I connected with was not spiritual or religious, but did claim to believe in God. He mostly was a lost soul with an addiction who struggled every day to keep things in balance. We connected, I suppose, because we both needed something. He needed calm and balance, which I was able to provide at the time. I needed examples of unconditional love and “love of family.” That is what he brought to me. While it was not a conscious decision, I chose at that time to move away from my spiritual practices and just “let life happen.”

After that relationship ran its course I realized I had become stagnant in my life. I have since found myself back in a place where I feel the need to connect to Source and grow in my spirituality. And so now my Guides are beginning to make their appearances on a regular basis. For the last few weeks it seems as though each night I either experience remarkable dreams or get an overnight “nudge” from one of my Guides. I try to write each dream because within it there is always a message.

I feel I have begun a new adventure in my life. I’m very interested to see how this progresses.