I dreamt you went away;
Quite literally, you ran, in fact.
I woke to find you there yet;
Still beside me, corporally, intact.
I decided to ignore it;
The feeling, dismissed, the context abstract.
Whenever I try and picture anyone else’s eyes, I can’t.
Never have been able to, despite my great imagination.
Now hands; hands and nails, I remember.
How someone holds a cigarette, touches their lips, wears their rings, or bites their nails; that’s easy.
Even 25 years later, I can still picture some people’s hands.
But their eyes?
I’m ashamed to say, not even my kids
Recreate in my mind’s eye?
I can see them without trying.
I could paint them from memory.
Somehow, this means something.
The known unknown.
I have had quite the empowering and cathartic last couple of weeks chock full of epiphanies and cosmic 2x4s.
One, I shall not write into narrative for you voyeuristic vampires whom I love. It involves self growth and reflecting on past relationships.
But when it dawned on me, it went something like this:
Then, I read this on my FaceCrack wall:
A Wild Woman doesn’t want to be your Girly friend
Can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?
Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last kill?
When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?
Do you fear they will capture your soul?
Are you afraid to step into me?
The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.
So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.
Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.
You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.
If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.
If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.
I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.
I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.
So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.
There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.
A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.
She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.
She will see to it that you shall rise again.
She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.
(c) Alison Nappi 2015
The I saw this and wanted to go run. Dafuq, right?
This is all on top of a windfall at work, in my bank account, with my kids, with my love, with my friends, EVERYTHING. On top of the world and it is strange.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you are remembering something you previously thought or said when suddenly something specifically interacts with you regarding it? I’m sure it is some sort of confirmation bias, part of the reason that divining tools and/or oracles seem spot on… You hear what you need to or are supposed to or are receptive to… right?
Ok, so riddle me this, Batman…
You know that place between dreaming and awake? When you are still responsive to the world for the most part but also starting to dream? Yeah. So there I am, there being a subjective ethereal term… and I am remembering a conversation I had about a recent tarot reading and the continuing conversation about a certain song’s potentially related lyrics and how it was super sweet and what I wanted….blah blah blah girl crap…. fast forward back to dreamspeaking state….
and that song comes on.
It was kinda awesome. It even took me a second to process it actually was playing outside of my dreamy state. HA
Yes, I know it doesn’t mean anything, per se….
But it was badass nonetheless.
The trouble with me
is that I am always hopeful.
Every time I am proven wrong
I look disappointment in the eye
and say “Next time!”
Next time will be better,
Next time will be perfect,
Next time I’ll know better,
Next time it will work.
I always have it figured out,
before next time arrives.
I do the work.
I work on me.
I know what went wrong.
I know what signs to watch for.
My eyes are open…
open wider than my heart…
And then I remember,
if only in dreams,
How it feels,
What I want,
What I need,
What I can provide…
I am in love.
In love with the idea…
In love with the potential…
In love with the way you make me feel.
In loving you I love myself.
I see you
Through a looking glass, darkly…
That’s the trouble with me.
I thank you for that.
To the One who is constantly sending me the most beautiful and hopeful things, thank you.
I much prefer this explanation as the reason for certain feelings and dreams which myself and some of my closest friends have had as of late.
This is what I shall fixate my energy on.
And always remember, don’t ever forget: BE LOVE.
“Be love now” ~ Ram Dass AKA Richard Alpert….(my easter egg for the month 🙂
Be love sounds like believe….hmmm
I wrote this after a particularly, ahem, lucid “dream.”
It’s a song.
Enjoy the fruit of my 18 year old brain. 🙂
A walk with Jim
He was the lizard king
and I, the moth queen.
Attracted to the light,
we came out at night.
my reincarnate vision…
Close my eyes I can hear him…
this man I think I knew…
I see him…remember him…
Am I crazy or is this called Déjà vu?
He said “You’re drinking with the third.”
Could I have been the fourth?
A couple of bipolar casualties.
A poet and a shaman;
And me a hopeless romantic.
Only one of us was knowing
our vaccine was our disease.
He was the lizard king
and I, the moth queen.
Distracted by the light
we faded into the night.
© 1998, 2012
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up and ask yourself WTF, that meant something, what am I missing? A onetime friend used to refer to them as “cosmic 2x4s,” the things that the Universe uses to smack you upside your head and get you to pay attention.
Typically, I find them easy to self analyse, for example: I once dreamnt that I was shopping for onion which I knew made me cry so hard and I was afraid of cutting them, but I had to go through all sorts of trouble to go to this one store to buy this one onion that they hid in the store because it was shaped square and I could cut it easily, quickly and without looking. It was a mindless act that I had to complete because my family needed that onion for supper.
Suffice it to say, my ex-husband was represented by the onion.
Did I digress? A little.
The dream I had which I need your help dissecting is as follows:
I’m walking through somewhere I have never been, enjoying it until I start getting angry because this woman keeps walking in front of me and I can’t get around her. I finally yell and push past her, behaving very badly, flipping her off and calling her everything but a woman. Then I feel embarrassed suddenly and turn down a road I did not intend to go down, and walk into some sort of marketplace that appears to be like an indoor flea market or bazaar…It seems familiar, or at least the items being sold there do.
In between all of these different booths and set ups and tables are randomly placed merry-go-rounds, slides, gates, nets, stairs, things meant for playing AND obstacles as well. I am attracted to one store in particular that has a pentagram above it, which I am not wiccan in the ‘wiccan religion” sense, but I usually subscribe to many things found in a store that would be described as such…just to give you some context for interpretation…So I make my way over there, deciding I should find some crystals or a book I want. Getting there is difficult to say the least. The damned woman is back, standing in my way. I don’t want to make a scene in the marketplace as I notice I am the only person who does not look middle-eastern and I am dressed in a way that would not be ok in the middle east traditionally if I am noticed (how I avoided being noticed I have no idea). So I take a deep breath and decided to backtrack and go AROUND the woman in a big circle.
As I am doing this, I cross caution tape, end up in a room that has beds and NUMEROUS sleeping babies…I assume that this is where the vender’s children are sleeping. But in that same room is a huge tree that has one very alive red rooster roosting in the branches looking at me. His beady eyes make me very uncomfortable so I go up 2 stairs to find a huge beautiful cherry table with 5 chairs around it and for some reason I look under it. There is a rug with a depression under it and I know that if I was to stand on it, I would fall through.
I then go around and rip through this netting that is separating that room from some concrete seats that are set up like a roman amphitheatre. I sit down and quietly wait for something to begin, like I knew I was coming to this place for a reason.
This is where I woke up.
Go to work peoples.