Years ago, many years ago, I was in a bad patch.
I dreamed one night that I was in a dark corner of my basement and surrounded by 3 women. Who were chanting over me and honoring me. Gosh that helped.
I have had many dreams since. Driving cars, rummaging in attics, rummaging in basements. Always searching and releasing fears. I dream that I am flying above the earth, that I have the ability to soar.
I dreamed of my sister speaking to me from a heavenly tree, I dreamed of the cosmos.
Gotta love dreams
The other night I had another Goddess dream.
The beginning is cloudy, some strife, some sadness, some inner struggle.
I found myself lying on a bed, in a room that was reached by stairs. A man was sitting on a chair beside the bed, telling me how wrong I was, how I had done evil things. The thing is, all I had done in my dream was heal things, I healed furniture, people. I utilized help, but apparently by utilizing help I was being a whore. Whatevs.
Beside me on the bed was a soapy humanoid figure and I was trying to put her back together, trying to add pieces and parts to heal her. All the time though, I was being berated, told about my stupid, evil, errors.
However, Goddesses soon appeared, running in one at a time. Women from books I have read, the strong heroes. They proceeded to diminish the person berating me. Saying I was wonderful, a natural healer, a great person. The end, oh my gosh I love this end. The woman from the Ghostbusters movie, the one with the women, Leslie Jones, rushed in. shouting oh no you don’t you don’t hurt my girlfriend.
I woke after that, and I am still smiling, still joyful.
In my gratitude journal I wrote immediately,
“I have learned I can heal myself. I have the power and spirit of the universe in me. I am a Goddess.”
space-boat-inspirational-photo-creations-audrey-woods
The boy, a 15 year old with a diagnosis of autism, had been in the school this entire time, unarmed, frightened, the tweet a misjudged political statement on gun violence and the ability of “adults” to protect our children.
autism he has poor impulse control. And not thinking, thought he might be helping.
My sister Cheri was born a some decades ago on a stormy solstice night. My mother once told me that her middle name was Gale because she blew into the window during a snow storm. She is a storm, of goodness, and heart, and compassion. The Solstice is the perfect time for her to be born.
I have memories of May Day Macaroons, the only time our mother made them. I loved those macaroons, soft, warm and chewy from the oven. I loved their pure coconut sweetness.
tiny paper handle, filled with flowers and cookies, and hung on a friends door.
Tilly Evan Jones 