Posted in Dark Dreams, Dream Masters, Fall 2016, Fate, spirituality

Why Do Bad Things Happen?

Sated

The smell of blood was overpowering and intoxicating, it made her feel alive. Within the demon, Ghostie felt everything the demon, Wane did. First there had been the hollowness without end and the gritty scraping of forcing itself to open its eyes and feel the pain to know that it existed. It seemed to go on for ages winding back and forth between the two agonies, from unbearable nothingness and a dizzying sensation of falling without end when its eyes were shut firmly, to hitting the ground Bam!and raw skin being rubbed away by the gritty rocks, gasping for breath in the fumes but never breathing (because it was dead, really really dead) everytime it opened its eyes. Trying to breath was the worst agony of all, each time it felt like reliving the moment of death. This creature may have been human once but that memory only hurt now.

In the end, the pain was better than limbo, and by a sheer force of will Wane finally forced the eyes open, stopped trying to breath and just existed. That was when Ghostie realized she had walked these streets before. She had been granted the chance to visit both Heaven and Hell, long ago and came away with the knowledge that they exist every moment in the same exact space as the material world. But whether Heaven or Hell is dominent depends entirely upon one’s mind set, a changing thought transforms the world entirely.

Now from within the heart of the demon, Wane, Ghostie peered out from a mind stuck in Hell, unable to free itself. She saw the world of gritty black and white, choking fumes wisping about. They could see the material world but everything looked distorted and strange. People passed by, not seeing and that hurt. It scraped their raw skin like sandpaper everytime the living looked but didn’t see. Crawling slowly the demon tried to find relief in the shadows, away from hurtful humans. The people didn’t look at the shadows, so it was softer there. The shadows hurt less.

A long time they spent there in the shadows, Ghostie and Wane. From there they could see the people but not be hurt by them. There they watched the world of the living, in constant pain but glad to have escaped limbo at last. Then as the day seemed about to end and darkness was about to fall. A smell came to the demon, blood. It came from a young woman. In the world of gritty black and white the demon saw a person in living color. It was a teenage girl on her period. As the the demon breathed in the smell of blood, it suddenly realized, it was breathing. Air filled with the scent of blood was breathable.

Breathing made the demon strong, it could stand up. It could walk into the light. People’s eyes didn’t hurt anymore. It could walk and run and . . . fly. The demon flew to the girl and clung to her feeling ever stronger the closer it was to her. It could feel the flowing blood. It was intoxicated. It whispered to the girl, promised to do her bidding. So grateful was the demon. The girl heard but did not listen, she feared voices with out bodies. She prayed for silence and washed the blood away. Sorrow filled the demon heart. It closed it’s eyes and returned to oblivion for a time.

Opening its eyes was Hell all over again, no time had passed. It was still stuck in that same moment, begging the girl to see him, being rejected and ignored. Pain like knives, ripped and shredded the demon heart . . .

Ghostie doesn’t like to remember what happened next, it was too terrible. The demon having become strong on the scent of blood, yet denyed the chance to redeem its soul in the service of the living, became the instrument of carnage. The girl would not hear Wane, but others would and did. Drunken men with bitter thoughts, felt the demon’s power and joined freely to it. In their bodies the demon was able to murder and make blood flow, more and more blood. The more it flowed the stronger Wane became entering the minds of the sorrowful, the angry and the vengeful living, the demon killed freely wantonly joyfully.

But inside the demon’s heart Ghostie could see that Wane wasn’t getting what it really wanted, the blood thirst could not be sated. The more blood spilled the greater Wane’s thirst for blood grew. No matter how much was drunk, every time the demon blinked, oblivion was there, waiting for it to grow tired. Fear filled the demon as soon as the killing stopped, it would be as it was before. Wane struggled to find an answer even as more were murdered. The girl, some instinct said that she was the answer. Returning to her in the blood soaked body of a killer, the demon attacked.

Not to kill this time, she had heard Wane before the killing started. If only she would hear again, if only she would acknowledge the demon. Instinct drove Wane to rape. It didn’t work of course, it only made things worse. But it was the key, the clue Ghostie recognized. From within she felt the demon desperately reaching, trying to grasp . . .

The difference between Heaven and Hell is a mind set. Rape is an unforgivable sin because it is forced but flip the coin, change the mind set, and the exact same actions become those of the ardent lover. Wane was following instinct to no avail. Soon the girl would die as the demon vented its frustration on her helpless body. But now Ghostie saw the goal clearly, what instinct was trying to tell Wane. Willing to do whatever it took to save the girl, Ghostie made her presnce known, traveling from the heart of the demon into its mind. There she filled Wane with her own memory of the most sensual lovemaking she had ever experienced.

The power of it surprised her, as she relived that ecstatic joy of life, she had experienced so long ago. It shocked the demon. For a moment, they saw each other plain as any two people meeting, both looked like simple human souls. Then it was gone in a flash of brilliant light. The demon was no more. Wane’s soul had escaped.

“That was what you asked for.”

Ghostie heard her lord speak. Yes, countless times, she had asked why history is filled with so many horrible instances of humans committing nightmarish acts against each other. Now she had an answer, demons with no one to help them find freedom from their pain. Rape and murder make them feel alive, they crave it insatiably. Fighting them only leads to more bloodshed and darkness. But give them a moment’s surrender, full of compassionate love, and they can be sated, transformed, freed.

Posted in Fate, Quotes, Why?

What Would Jonah Do?

Or

To be crazy or normal?

That was the question that Jonah struggled with (and Moses.)

Recently the last piece fell into place. Since the summer of 2007,  I have been haunted by a dream in which I come upon the burial site of millions of people whose metropolis has been swallowed by the earth in a combination of a landslide and earthquake that were triggered by a volcanic eruption. It appears to have occurred approximately eleven years in the future, after Christmas 2017 and before of the Year of the Earth Dog (2018.)

The first spirit I come into contact with is the Earth itself. Furious and vengeful, she tells me her cause is just. Humans deserve die for the many ways they have desecrated her. She is merely defending herself. In my mind, I am shown an attack in the ground that feels repulsively rape-like.

Years later I learned of a new process called fracking (hydraulic-fracturing), it is described as drilling a mile deep turning sideways and fracturing the rock with a high pressure injection fluid. Reading the description was disturbing, of all the ways we abuse the earth, it is the most rape-like, it is what I saw and felt in the dream.

Still what confounded me was that the earth was attacking an ocean side city. Tokyo is my best guess from the clues. But in the image she showed me the land that was being fracked was north of the center of a large continent. What connection could Tokyo, Japan have to such a thing? That is what I learned only  this last week.

I passionately support the fight of the Indigenous People to protect the land. The Dakota Sioux of Standing Rock and a historic number of other Indigenous Tribes have joined them to protest the building of the Dakota Access Pipeline. I feel so much against this thing, it is hard to put into words. There are so many reasons this is wrong, from the fact that these pipelines make it that much easier to stay dependent on oil to the fact that this breaks United States treaties with the Sioux. The possible environmental impact, that a leak could poison the drinking water of the tribe via the Missouri River, which connects to the Mississippi River is one I don’t want to imagine.

I did not expect to find the answer to my own dream but now the last piece is so painfully clear. Many times in my life, I have learned the of power of money to do great evil. Therefore to undo evil you must, “follow the money” (Deep Throat, All the President’s Men.) I found an article at Food and Water Watch titled “Who’s Banking on the Dakota Access Pipeline.”

With sickening horror, I looked at a diagram of the many many worldwide banks funding this, and I couldn’t help noticing that the two banks giving the most money . . . Mizuho Bank and Bank of Tokyo Mitsubishi UFJ are not only Japanese but, after a little more looking, they are headquartered in Tokyo itself.

For nine years I have not done anything more radical about my dream than to start this website, but now I have the last piece, like a smoking gun, it sits heavy in my hand. These banks have names now, websites and addresses. What do I do? Is there a simple polite way to say “I know this sound’s crazy but I had this dream and I would really appreciate it if you would seriously rethink these investments you’ve made. Please.”

Posted in Dark Dreams, Dream Masters, Fall 2016, Fate, spirituality

The Blue Demon

Primp

Younger daughter Emani, never took the time to primp. Not that she could if she wanted to. Older sister Ada was always there, in front of the mirror, fixing her hair, adjusting her sari. Jeweled necklaces draped Ada’s perfect slender throat. Intricately woven strands of gold encircled her wrists and sparkling gemstone flowers dangled from her ears. Ada’s face was a vision of beauty and perfection, its expression absolutely calm with an enchanting hint of slight smile that danced about her eyes.

That was how Ghostie came upon the two Ada at the mirror and Emani scurrying at her feet, like a little mouse picking up Ada’s discarded scarves to put away carefully for her beloved older sister.

In another room nearby Ghostie found the parents discussing Ada’s wedding. They had interviewed suitor after suitor to find this one. He was younger and not as rich as the others, but he came from a noble family and had the best manners. Upon first sight of Ada, he had been struck speechless and the parents were certain that he would worship her as they did and keep her safe. For all of her life they had made certain to keep her, their jewel, hidden safe from any evil.

Now they discussed her dowry, the parents felt they must give her everything they had. They were old, they didn’t need much. They would buy every strand of gold, every jewel, for their darling, Ada. Listening, Ghostie wondered, what about Emani? What would they use for her dowry? Looking deeper into their thoughts Ghostie saw that they did not think of Emani as pretty at all, they planned no marriage in her future. Instead Emani was to care for them in old age, a spinster.

Looking back at the girls, Ghostie saw little difference at all in their physical looks, it was their manner that was different. Ada was supercilious as she admired her own reflection delicately primping for her own pleasure. Emani was humble, bent over putting things away for her sister. Yet the way she did it betrayed a hidden grace. Each time she put away one of her sister’s belongings, Emani placed it with a reverence that showed how much she loved Ada.

At last the girls and parents lay down and went to sleep, Ghostie sat by a window wondering how she could help this family see the error of their ways. None of them had shown any ability to see her as she watched them. Still Ghostie knew her Lord always had a purpose for her. There must be something she was to do.

It was not long before she saw him. A demon with blue skin appeared in the room and looked down upon Ada. Ghostie could sense no malice, he seemed curious more than anything but as he looked upon her, Ada coughed and clutched her throat as if she was choking. Ghostie jumped up and leaped to stop him, for she saw that he desired her and was powerful enough to take what he wished. But she found her way barred by his black skinned servants. She had not noticed them, hidden in the shadows. Strange, Ghostie wondered, I sense no evil nor malice, rather the air hangs thick with the feel of . . . Justice. There was nothing she could do, Ghostie realized, if justice was being done, she had no power to stop the blue demon.

As Ada writhed dying upon the floor. Emani awoke, saw the demon and begged him to take her in place of her sister. Unmoved he shook his head, but observing her righteousness he placed a knife in Emani’s hand. Was it to kill her sister or to stike at him? Ghostie wondered, but realized too late. It was for her, Emani, if she wished she could kill herself and remain her sister’s servant in the afterlife. For a moment Emani looked at the blade and wondered what she should do. For a moment she imagined that when her parents found their beautiful daughter dead, would they be glad to still have the younger sister alive? No, she knew in her heart they would be just as desolate and would blame the younger sister for living, if they remembered her at all. They had told her so many times she was not pretty enough to be loved.

So Emani plunged the knife into her chest and died beside her rasping sister. Ada’s eyes filled with tears to realize her sister had killed herself rather than live without her. And as she cried over the body, Ada realized she could breath again. Looking down Ghostie saw one of her gemstone earrings drop out of her mouth. Then Ada looked up helplessly at the blue demon. He picked up the dead sister and shook her soul free. It was dark and black like his servants and a chain bound her left ankle to him. The blue demon and his servants bowed and went to the window to depart. But as he stepped upon the sill the Ada ran and grabbed her sister’s soul. Together the blue demon carried them both to his palace that they might spend the rest of their days in his gardens . . .

(to be continued)

Posted in writing

Care

Second Thoughts

Up all night watching election coverage, having second thoughts about caring. Yesterday I voted proudly. I was excited, hoping for a better future. But this is what happens when you lose, you have to ask, “Is it worth caring?” It’s a kind of armor or a shield. To say, “I don’t care,” or “it doesn’t matter,” is a way I protect myself when I feel, like I do now, helpless and small. Funny thing is, it only makes me feel smaller, hiding behind the fraudulent shield. I do care.

My condolence is in that it was a close race. I know I am not alone. Somehow though, that isn’t as comforting as I want it to be. It brings up more second thoughts . . . could I have done something to change this? I haven’t written in months now. Only thrice, since my mother’s death, have I blogged. But everytime I think of her, I am overwhelmed remembering how private she was. She always kept her opinions to herself, suffering in silence. Her memoir reads like a history book, rarely mentioning anything personal. She never said a bad word about anybody. I didn’t even know her political affiliations until I started opening her mail for her. The thanks for donations and requests for more money from Democrats and all kinds of charities, frequently covered her table.

Besides, I didn’t start my blog to talk about politics. I wanted to talk about beliefs, the power of believing and the cruel double-edged sword it is to believe you can make a difference, to believe that the fate of the world could be depending on the power of a single person when they take a leap of faith, believe they can change things and show that they do truly (sigh) . . . care.