I had the most amazing dream night before last. It started out I was in the midst of many different “people”, none of which I knew. I wasn’t me, tho, I was this round “ball” or entity~ I could see around me 360 degrees and knew from time to time what was in the heads and hearts of those around me. Who and what was around me were other entities, non-human, about 7 or so… in many different forms. They were magnificent creatures of conglomerations of other animals compiled together and children… beings manifested as children, but their souls were infact very old.
Two angels were the focal point and one in particular, the dark one, was laying on its back in what looked like slick black tar in a shallow black platform-type thing… imagine a box you get shirts in, now imagine it being a good bit larger and black. It was a “fallen” angel… and was laying down in the shallow box, with this black or dark stuff covering it. It looked like shiny, greesy, wet tar blanket over top of it. It was actually some type of blood or life force, from a creature that the “good angel” had to kill for the purpose of holding down the dark angel. (This sparked so much internal debate as I continued to observe what was going on.)
They were both of the same type and were actually kin, and I couldn’t help but wonder why and how the good angel could do what he did to the dark angel if he was, in fact, a “good” angel. The dark angel was trying to lift itself up out of the sticky tar to get away or fight and it was almost able to lift itself onto its’ wings elbows. The huge white angel was uncompassionate--- watching the struggling dark one and feeling nothing for it. It had purpose for it, but no other connection could be felt.
Instead, the light angel was taking the dark angel’s tools (chains it used in its attacks- and other weapons, literally, were its own body parts that it continued to regrow) to use as weapons against its own “side” in an upcoming war. The fighting between the two sides started out very covert—small skirmishes in places where one would expect violence~ alleys and crack house brothels. Addicts saw things, but either didn’t remember because of their stupor… questioned their own eyes/sanity or told someone and those they told just thought they were crazy. The fights erupted quickly and then died off just as fast and blended into our society as random acts of violence, like someone being killed in a home invasion or a drug dealer getting stabbed and left to die.
Some of “them” were warrior spies, sent in our homes and towns as children. Several of them around the black angel were these children warriors. We raised them, fed them, loved them and they stayed on for a while and when their jobs were done, went missing (literally… our society has accepted violence against children so much that it is not unusual to have so many vanishings. We just chalked it up to abductions never solved.) Some of these were legitimate abductions, but some of these were the covert warriors finishing their jobs and going back to where they come from. These things remained on a level that we attributed to our own tribulations, but the battle was beginning to spread to a size that couldn’t be hidden any more.
The light angel had to keep the dark one angel alive, just for what it could offer in defense even though it was EXTREMELY dangerous- and it looked it. It was what the white angel looked like if it were dead and decaying. The difference being that the white angel had a human-ish face and the black angel had a dragon-like face, fierce and viscious. And it was pissed off. It kept trying to raise itself up on its “elbows”, but kept slipping down into the muck and then it would howl, hiss, shriek and wail. It would play dead (or very tired) and then try to slip its tongue out slowly, quietly and then lash out really long and wrap around something- to tear off a body part (like your head) or to grab a weapon, preferably its favorite, chains. It used to be with the white angel and did its job with it, but it’d fallen because it wanted to do its own thing—causing a conflict amongst those where it was from. It wasn’t kicked out for being “evil”, but because the harm was to the purpose of why they were there.
It was obvious the white angel was a soldier by its countenance and feelings, or should I say lack of them. Even I, who was scared and knew the dark angel didn’t think enough of me to waste the time ripping me to pieces, felt for it because of its suffering, but the white angel did not. It was beautiful, majestic and terrible~ seeing it took my breath away. It was white and glowing and wasn’t solid… the wind blew sometimes so hard that it would blow me and the other creatures away (we had to hide in the rocks), but It stayed there and was separated by the wind, blurring and separating and then coming back together again. Lights were around it, on its wings, its hair, its white robe and it had a huge sword that looked like silver, but was made of something different, stronger and indestructible.
Its lack of emotions came through psychic knowing everyone had… and if you were on the list to die, it would kill you and not look back. No regrets, no second thoughts, no anger (or very little), no compassion, very little empathy. Most of this is due to the fact that it had no judgement… it never determined something to be evil so it didn’t get mad about it. It didn’t judge something to be good, it just was. Because there was no good, it seldom got what we would consider happy, but was never exactly unhappy. It didn’t have what could be called anger, but fierceness and intensity: when it fought, storms gathered and tore the landscape apart- earthquakes, tornados, hurricanes. Hence the wind we had to hide in the rock’s cracks for safety. It just deteriorated, separated and then re-assembled and kept on.
Oddly, it knew exactly what the beings were going though when it killed them- or shook buildings until they fell and died- but didn’t hurt because of it. It was as if it was above feeling, emotions weren’t part of its make-up because, besides the lack of judgement, the feelings would create conflict for it and it wouldn’t do what God needed to be done. Not like a psychopath because psychopaths want more for themselves, this being was selfless--- was a glove over the hand of God.
The dark angel started like the white angel, they were the same type of creature, having been in wars (it did the dirty work) and worked for God, but *fell* and now, in contrast, had a huge self and loved to get one over on someone else in its favor in the war. It had emotions~ RAGE, despair, and spite. It was "wild".
It took my breath away, too, it was terrible and awesome, and horrifying. I just stood there, watching~ being completely aware of how little I meant to any of these creatures. They moved around like I wasn’t there, almost stepping on me and kicking me out of the way sometimes. They knew I was basically powerless and not a threat at all, so me being there had the same effect as your neighbors pet. The “good” guys allowed me to hang around and observe, and I thought might be able to help in some way.
Me? I was a ball of existence. I saw in 360 degrees and tried to stay out of the way. Sometimes I saw the battles raging off in the distance, could see the fighting and could see the time changing and knew what the culmination would be. I hopped around on the rocks and hid, sometimes trying to touch one of them.
The other creatures were part animal and part human, children (who had very old souls). Sometimes the creatures and the animals would have to ‘switch’ spirits because some things this little girl could do inside the lion’s body and some things the lion could do by itself. Sometimes they changed so often that it was like musical spirits ;)
The creatures acknowledged me there, the children especially, because they were accustomed to being with us as one of us. I was concerned for their welfare, but it was obvious that they were much more secure and well adapted than I and I was the one who had something to fear.
I saw the battle, the figures at the right of the scene were jet black, color and lightless. The figures at the left were many and multi colored- animals, people, mixtures of the two- I met an eagle person and someone with cat claws, literally. They were fierce and intelligent. The setting had old cars not running any more, almost like a ghost town where humans resided…. But not anymore. I could tell that it was into the future many many years from now, but not exactly knowing when. People still were here, just not at this place. It was perhaps Utah… where rocks were abundant and cliff sides were pretty flat.
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All of that aside, I had just finished telling Stephen about the dream and we both agreed, that was one helluva dream. We went out front to walk around and I felt pretty bad- had a big dizzy spell and Stephen helped me back in the house.
Stephen walked around to the back sliding glass door and saw our dark little pet, our sweet little Chicky, laying motionless in the pond. Our light bodied pet duck was standing there by the pond looking at her. Stephen grabbed her out of the cold water and we tried to save her, but we were too late. The pond looked just like the shallow, black container in the dream.
What did the dream and reality have in common? Two winged creatures, (both bird-pets), one held down and weighted down by another's life force (the fish water) and the inability to get up. They were also "born" together and grew up together like siblings. The light winged creature may have knocked her into the water and was both unable to feel for her or get her out.
The rest of the story? Who knows. Maybe it has meaning or maybe its just an artist's fantastic imagination working at night.
If its a coincidence, its sure an odd one.
Its interesting how many things are linked together, just like the Mandala. Interestingly, Stephen asks a funny question and when I investigated it, it came down to Hildegard Von Bingen. On her birthday. Today, I study mandalas and run into.... the name Hildegard Von Bingen. I have her CD, called Vision. See picture and link below.
Hilde is a 12th century Christian Nun who had visions and was a voice for many in her time--- something that was basically unheard of back then.
She may have been the inventor of opra, was an artist, teacher, counselor, medicine woman and musician. She was an abandoned child, I believe even given away to the church as a tithe. She ended up being more of a gift than anyone could have imagined and created art, music, poetry, herbalism, medicine and spiritual literature, volume upon volume.
She'd have been called many things in our time-- ADHD, hypomanic, schizophrenic~ but above all, she was considered HOLY, maybe because she had the audacity to fly her freak flag
She should be studied in history, but no one ever hears of her, except me :) She pops up now and then and I've been given to paint her and what she might have been.
She used Mandalas~~~ so the mixture of the two may be something that can be translated into a painting.
Just remember, Jesus was a rebel, too.
Some wonderful things have been happening recently. Little and some not so little coincidences have been occurring more often than not~ for those of you who don't know, I'm a person of very strong faith. Sometimes my tastes/choices may appear to be at odds with faith, but in actuality, it is a testament to my belief that a loving Creator has made me who I am, experiences, tastes and all.
Either way, the forging continues and I'm blessed to see the alignments move together to work out in ways only Faith can illustrate. If fear is the opposite of faith, I must have been in hell. It was such a dark period- strike that, a LONG, dark, bleak period- that still my interior is trying to understand. Through the confusion, I've come to a place where I can be grateful. Not for all of it because the pain was so intense... but I'm here to say that my strongest understanding of God has come from being WAY pissed off at God.
The idea might not be thought of fondly, especially if God is thought of as the father figure that needs to be coddled to be accepting (or otherwise try to not bruise his ego) but the truest measure of faith might be to show your ugliest and know that you will still be loved wholly. Nothing I can do will jeopardize this. Nothing you can do, either. I don't understand the pain~ maybe Jesus didn't, either in his case, except that maybe I needed it to be moved in the direction that I needed to go. Lord knows I was a stagnant recluse before this. Maybe Creator knew what type of stubbornness s/he was up against and then perpetuated the motivational flame under my butt?
The force had to be greater than the opposition, didn't it?
I don't understand all the things my Creator has- or had- in store for me, but it is true that I jump before the net is there and somehow I'm caught, safely. Even when I'm convinced nothing's there and am so low that I don't care if SPLAT is what happens next.
But this faith has gotten second nature and it, the net, appears- magically- for this, my gratitude is as immense as the stars in the sky. Just somehow it seems that the exact moment when something is needed, it is supplied~ its no secret to me what is going on, God is working (as always) but in more obvious ways~ recently. Its gotten so that its commonplace, like a best friend popping over. "Oh yeah, that's God. Hadn't ya'll met? He's here all the time."
Case in point--- the beautiful, warm hearted Tracy from MS Art Supply donated a watercolor paint palette, and the need for it popped up the next time I was at the GCWCFNV. They just had a new person arrive, who was a watercolorist... Most of the time in a situation like that, women leave their abusers with only the bare necessities~ those of us from the coast aren't unfamiliar to leaving in a hurry--- mandatory evacuations aren't unusual to us. But what if the hurricane was your husband and he was the category 5? Catastrophe being inevitable, you have to leave your house, lose what you've worked for (or else you'll die) to grab what you can and leave. Your beloved watercolors, if he's allowed you to have something to love besides him, is overtaken in the surge of fear and left by the wayside. Maybe even destroyed from the fury of him having no control over you anymore.
So, I had left the watercolor palette at home the day I met her. Thought of her, but didn't say anything because the center has a quick turn around, so no one ever knows if the same folks will be in one group from the next. But sure enough, there she is at our next session.
So here she is and I'm getting the palette out of the bag... now get this- it was her birthday. Who could have arranged such a perfect coincidence? God was making sure that she had something to hold onto, no matter what or where she was. Ack, it makes my eyes tear up every time I think about it.
This is a small series of coincidences, but God is in the details, remember? Denise Williams and I are talking about what needs to be done for the Moss Point high school students. Just a conversation, how much stress are you under, girl? This needs done, tell me about it, that needs done and oh- yes, I need to call so and so. Damnedest thing- she says, "you know, I need to go to Lowes and get some of that lumber pieces they have left over for drawing boards." I say, "Well, thats funny, Stephen and I have to go to Lowes in about 10 mins to get something for the shed. I'll ask for you when I get there-"
We chuckle and move on. She says, "There's a nice lady in Gautier, Magnolia framing gallery, and she said we could have her pieces of scrap matt board."
"Thats funny," I say "I've got to go there Wednesday and I'll ask her then, too." A raised eyebrow!
Then, we get to talking about Tuesday being art club day. I'm scared, thinking of how I'm going to get the kids' art classes going and this, too. Guess what? Apparently the club is supposed to happen because attendance is down and this leaves room open for moving on to older students. Coincidences, coincidences.
The lumber is ours for the taking, thanks to manager Ryan :)
Went by Magnolia framing and Mary was out sick :( But I'll be back over there this upcoming week.
OK--- here is the end all be all. For years the number 333 comes up for me. Folks joke about it with me that its half of 666, but for me, its a sacred trinity- three of threes. The star of creation has 2 triangles, a third one if you add the tertiary colors. I woke up at 3:33 a.m. three times in a row. My Dad's fema trailor had 333 on its side and the GCWCFNV's P.O. Box is... you guessed it... 333.
So, I guess I'm supposed to work there and that is what spurred me onto do what I'm afraid of most for them and the cause I believe in, public speaking. At one of their conferences- Stormy Seas- I go do "Art therapy and how it heals and helps traumatized people to communicate". Its on this website somewhere :)
So, I get there and do my thing. Pretty good, too, I couldn't believe how it felt like something else took over and I got into it and just let it "flow". The response was wonderful and I felt high.
A while later, I met Donna's (from the rec center) sister Tonya for the second time (those of us with "artist brain" know how this is possible) and--- come to find out--- she was at the conference. I didn't know she even knew about it. She didn't know I did this type of thing. Hey, neither did I.
So, we got to talking and come to find out she is also a Believer like me, saw odd things like me, and she was moved by what I said and wanted to write about my experiences in her book... she was looking for an artist to do a cover for her book and just knew if she waited long enough that one would come along. Lo and behold, there I am. Sure enough, ya'll, here it is. This is an awesome cause and a wonderful lady~ her heart is as large as all the oceans put together and I'm honored to have met her and had something worthy to contribute.
Tonya Moye's Book, From the Heart of the Broken
But then one of the most influential, loving and accepting people in my life came to be in this manner, too. What a thing that we would meet up? On the day that I was at the Art House in Ocean Springs, this nervous natured petite lady came in and was asking about a tutor for her daughter. I wanted to do it soooooo bad, but this was back in the day before the upswing out of depression. I didn't know if I could finish it once it started, didn't know if I could keep up. She gave me her number, it was obvious she felt my apprehension and was wanting me to feel at ease- and I did, not something that happened too often then.
So, months later (yes, it took that long to gain courage) i called and then went over there to meet Annie. After one meeting, it was obvious that she'd get into MSA (Mississippi School of Art) without much help from me, but what I could do was offer what a college professor would be looking for in a portfolio. ZOOM without question, Annie got in!
come to find out, in many ways, Lisa and I have much in common. In other ways, she's been a mentor, supportor and (ha ha) instigator. She might even talk me into Motherhood.
These folks have evolved into family. Who knew one day that someone can evolve into someone indispensible in your life? And then, she was the one who supported me into the gutsy moves that started Art with Heart and all these other things? None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for Lisa's patience and curiosity
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